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All Work and No Play

March 26, 2013

About a year and a half ago I left the madcap world of consumer banking to join those free spirits over in not for profit health insurance. My workplace talents, for better or for worse, are in the nebulous field of information management (“database stuff,” I will tell you if you go dead in the eyes when I use my real title). I like data. I never went to prom. These two facts are unrelated, but together they give pretty strong clues as to Who I Am.

The insurance gig is like family to me, in all the good and bad ways at once. It’s a smaller company, so I can make more of a difference within the company, and the company strategy really does lend itself to improving the health of my beloved economically disadvantaged and disproportionately diabetic town.

Unfortunately, everyone was swamped even before PPACA – Obamacare, if you’re nasty – and keeping up with regulatory mandates forcing sweeping changes in IT has been… a special opportunity. Like having the opportunity to try to regrow a limb under water while a shark gnaws on the one you’d thought was yours as recently as five minutes ago.

To finish setting the stage: I adore my bosses and am close friends with several of my peers.

 

All this adds up to this: ALL I FUDGING DO ANYMORE IS WORK. I love it while I’m there, which is good, because I’m there until I get hungry-tired-burnt-confused-all-of-the-above  at night. I get home late, can’t unwind, eat crap (tonight was a whirlwind tour around my condiment selection traveling on a bed of pecan Nut Thin crackers (which I heartily endorse, especially for the gluten free set)). Then I can’t get to sleep in time for my Solid Seven Hours, leaving me to choose between grogginess and skipping yoga in the a.m. Boo.

All of this came to a head on my flight to Costa Rica a couple weeks back, which left me in tears in a woe-is-me-what-am-I-doing-wrong-with-my-life-wait-is-this-PMS-no-I’m-living-wrong-but-also-yes-probably-PMS-too kind of way. You know. The usual. I was able to unwind on the trip just fine (I’m only stress junkie on my mom’s side of the family), but on the way back I got a little nervous about my re-entry into normal life’s atmosphere. I’m not looking to burn up/out/in any direction.

I purchased a book in the airport on the way home called The Happiness Project,by Gretchen Rubin. I haven’t finished it yet, but it’s gotten me thinking: What do I like to do? How do I like to be? How do I hate feeling and what brings the crappy on? While I haven’t committed to doing a full on Happiness Project of my own, I do recognize that I need to give some love to things that aren’t work (for instance, I’m covered in cats right now… that must count for something, right?). So maybe I’ll write about my progress. Hopefully. If it makes me happy.

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