The past couple of weeks have seen me running around like a headless chicken. In as much as headless chickens can run with the blood spurting out of their cut necks like geysers. Anyway. Taken on some work which involves content writing. Some layouting. More work that came my way which wasnt really something I enjoyed but took on anyway because, as usual, I thought, what the heck. Its work. I might come to like it and wait to get into office to do it.
Barely took me a month to tire of it all. The stress. The constant pressure. The complete inability to devote any time to the child. The rapidfire greying of the hairline, and the lack of time and energy to get out the colouring kit and colour them strands back to levels of lost youthfulness.
After a particularly hectic weekend (one in which I had been standing all day all of Saturday organising a navratri night in the society premises and sitting all of the next day on a not very comfortable bench, padded though, as part of the audience in a Kaun Banega Crorepati shoot), I experienced,what greater souls have termed as enlightenment.
It was a sudden blinding moment. One in which the truth blazed in front of the dark, dank, stressed out screen of my mind. Words written in 40 foot high letters lit up with bulbs. “It is not worth it.”
It really was not worth it. The stress. The pressure to deliver on deadline. The stretching of time into elastic bands in order to finish whatever task it was that I had for the day. The sudden whiny clinginess of the child who was refusing to behave whenever he saw me around. It was not worth it.
Have decided to cut out the crap from my life. The Cultural Committee membership was the first to go. Don’t have the bandwidth to deal with kitchen politics and backbiting. Some other assignments that I dreaded started the day with. A project I had taken on, but was proving immensely taxing rather than fun.
It feels like a load has been metaphorically lifted off my already rounded and slouchy shoulders. I did some metaphoric shoulder stretching to relieve the sore muscles.
I’m getting back to what I really enjoyed doing. Namely writing about things that interested me. At my own pace. In my own style. With enough time to lotus eat. And blog. And read books.
In short, am back to being a kept woman again.