When Play Becomes Work

Most of us, if not all, come into this world bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Throughout adolescence, I was always excited to start the next new thing. I felt a fervor for my hobbies and the life I had ahead of me. Somewhere down the line, I had lost my shine. I lost the passion I had for the smallest of things, and my days were filled with the mundanity of academics. My drive to get shit done was overshadowed by worry, stress, and anxiety about the future. I lost touch with the things that I truly loved.

And somewhere down the line, I found it all again. I rediscovered my affection for writing, reading, art, people, and life. I didn't wake up dreading the days, weeks, and months ahead of me. I could lean into the activities I loved to find my way out of a dark place. For me, journaling or picking up the literary fiction novel I was in the middle of was a break from reality. It was a break from the constant stream of projects, tests, due dates, and resume building. Writing and reading had become my escape from all of my worries. I was able to completely vomit my thoughts onto a blank sheet, and once I turned the page, I no longer had an elephant sitting on my chest or a marble in my throat.

I have always found it hard to draw the line between work and play. Ever since graduating college, my days have been vacant for anything I want to do. I could take a day trip, sleep through the afternoon, explore different corners of Boston, whatever. The world was my oyster. Instead, what I've been gravitating towards is finding joy in writing and reading. I adore the feeling of time passing by at the snap of a finger because I can't put down a good book. So, I made a plan. It went a little like this:

Write and publish three blog posts every week.

Read at least five books every month

Send out at least ten job applications every day

Training for runs every day

Etc.

At a glance, it doesn't seem like much. Considering I had ten hours a day of my own volition, it felt like I could bang my to-do list out in two hours, max. Boy, was I wrong. Between wanting to sleep in, scheduling and attending job interviews, spending time with friends, cooking, and more, it didn't really leave me with the freedom I anticipated. For me, writing an article can take a quick thirty minutes or a couple of days. If inspiration doesn't hit, I can be found staring at a blinking cursor for hours at a time. At the end of the day, it's fine if I didn't finish writing an article. My life didn't implode and the world hasn't stopped spinning. But, in my head, everything has gone askew. My plan is thrown off balance and now I need to catch up.

Having a to-do list isn't bad. In fact, it's not the reason why I feel as guilty as I do. The list is what keeps me on track, and it's what keeps me sane. It's a way for me to visualize my goals. The problem I struggle with is giving myself grace. I have found there are certain things I can quantify, and others I can't. For example, in the past, I used to be obsessed with mileage when I ran. I would bear down on myself if I didn't hit my goal for the day. I felt like a failure if I was too exhausted to hit my daily five miles. News flash girly, you were burnt out. Once I stopped putting a number on my runs and purely pursued them based on how I was feeling and paying attention more to duration rather than length, I found my love for running again. I understand for some people, specifically runners who are training for races, this method isn't very realistic or ideal. But it works for me, and that's what counts.

However, when it comes to reading and writing, I find that quantifying the amount I need to complete within a time period helps me retain focus. If I were to only write when I felt like it, I don't know if I would ever make the time for it for a long time. I would constantly be in a reading slump if I didn't have the desire to reach and even exceed my goal. So, the problem here isn't that I don't need the numbers. The problem is that I have a difficult time accepting the fact that it's okay if I don't reach my goal within the timeline I gave myself. I beat myself up if I don't have at least three writing proposals I'm in love with each week. Guilt consumes me if I've gone two weeks without finishing a book. It sounds silly, but the pressure I put on myself eats me up.

So, what's the solution? In theory, the easiest thing to do is to stop giving myself such hard deadlines. Let the creativity flow when it does. Let the passion emerge on its own. But, despite my own boundaries, I value the lists. I need the lists. What I need to do is practice giving myself grace. Allow me to fall behind and realize that nothing changes if I do. Is it not more harmful to burn myself out than it is to give myself time to revel in the things I love to do truly? Obviously, this is all easier said than done. Learning how to be patient with yourself isn't a walk in the park. It's something that I have been constantly working on in all areas of my life. Patience for yourself and for others is an important skill to have. So, despite all the obstacles and burdens and deadlines that are present in your life right now, take a breath. Stop being so hard on yourself. Everything will work out, all in good time.