Summertime Sadness

The one about balancing (or not) all the things.

Jun 23, 2023

If you’re in San Diego area, this pizza is from Wayfarer Bread, just fyi! It’s the best.

Hello from the point in the year where I find myself desperately trying to reclaim that feeling of summer break — that no alarm clocks, Pepperidge Farm chocolate freezer cake in a friend’s yard, luxuriously lazy day sorta buzz. Ironically, I barely realized this past Wednesday was the summer solstice; I hadn’t even realized we’d already tiptoed over to the point in June where the longest day of the year lives, but we did. Come to think of it, as recently as this week I’ve found myself writing September (??) as the date.

It is most definitely not September yet, friends.

We are most definitely still in summer. The beginning of summer, one could argue.

It sorta feels like September in my brain, I guess. That busy, go-go-go of a new school year sorta feeling, even though I’m obviously not in school anymore. My body feels like we blew right past summer break, and just continued the usual grind.

Earlier this year, I purposely stepped away from freelance writing (and really, pitching editors) in order to devote the increasingly smaller pockets of free time I have to writing this newsletter and to another creative project I’ve been working on. And yet, more often that not, I find myself feeling too fried to do anything meaningful with that “extra” time. By the end of most weekdays, my brain just can’t think very hard about anything anymore, never mind string together something eloquent and hopefully interesting.

I’ve watched stuff accumulate on my to-do list to the point that I created a “worry list” for myself in the notes app of my cellphone. (In other words, I simply wrote down all the things I was worried about but couldn’t get to in the moment or potentially do anything about.) It actually made me feel better — highly recommend, especially if you have anxiety. Speaking of anxiety, I’ve found myself at a weird juncture with my blood disorder, and it’s been kicking my butt a smidge more than usual; it’s usually a mix of peaks and valleys, and lately I’m feeling stuck in the valley more than I care to be. I won’t use it as an excuse for any of the above, but it’s certainly another layer. Layer on layers, you know?

All that to say, since moving this spring, I’ve been struggling with how to balance everything. Trying earnestly to figure out how to do all the things I want to do — like meet more people in my new city, try new hobbies — along with all the things I know I must do (like meet never-ending deadlines at work), and then, of course, also squeeze in all the things I absolutely need to do… you know, get to bed at a proper hour, go to a doctor appointment, etc. Work has been the kind of busy where I just don’t ever feel like there are enough hours in the day — where your eyeballs are staring into the blue light glow of a computer screen for 10+ hours (they say that’s super healthy for you, I’m pretty sure). Where you wake up in the middle of the night realizing some random thing you were supposed to do but haven’t quite done yet and end up having to email yourself a reminder at 3am. That plus all the other non-negotiable life things on my to-do list each day leave me feeling like I’m sort of treading water most weeks. I can go a whole day during the work week without once stepping outside during daylight hours.

Maybe you’re nodding along and thinking “Uh, yeah, isn’t that just normal adulthood?” But maybe you’re not. And maybe it’s not.

I hesitate to talk about all of this — this struggle to stay afloat — and have considered scrapping this post a few times now. I’m hyper-conscious of the fact that my life is simpler and potentially more privileged than many others, for a number of reasons, including that I don’t also have small children in the mix. (I have seen and heard how my friends who are parents also struggle to fit it all in, often burning the candle at both ends. Parenting is no joke.) But actually, that’s why I decided to talk about it here — not because I feel compelled to complain or think my life is somehow harder than someone else’s, but rather because I don’t think we talk enough about how universally challenging being an adult is, no matter what your life situation. We’re allowed to admit we’re overwhelmed or in a trying chapter of life, and someone else’s tough chapter doesn’t necessarily mean yours is better or worse, or deserves to be acknowledged more or less. I don’t think there has to be some barometer we’re measuring our suffering against. We can all appreciate that life is freakin’ hard, for everyone; the difficulty just shows up for different people in different ways and in different seasons and regardless, your struggle still counts. It’s still important. Sometimes I have to remind myself that there is no suffering Olympics; no one is out there trying to win the gold for most exhausted human or person dropping the most balls from the air. There is no trophy for pretending life isn’t excruciatingly complicated.

Anyways, all that to say, here I am, waving at you from my little canoe on the lake that is starting to sink a teensy bit. I feel like every week, I’m out there, in my canoe that is filling up with a little bit more water at every turn, trying to smile and shout, “It’s fine! It’s summer!” Scooping out the water while more pours in, wishing I was somehow better at mastering adulthood and doing all the things on my list, and as quickly as the voice in my head says I should. Wondering, frankly, what to do next, and trying to make the best of it til then.

So Many Somethings

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