Work stress is putting a damper on what would normally have been a lovely “local summer” day, here at the Jersey Shore. Boys and I went to a new playground at the beach this morning and had a blast, but I knew I had work waiting for me when we got home. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.
It’s a new freelance client, a large agency with a good reputation. I really want to wow them with this challenging assignment. Of course it comes with an impossible deadline and I’m working in a vacuum. Usually this type of work comes with a partner who you can bounce ideas off, and bitch about the crazy ask. On my own, and in this particular moment, I’m feeling quite insecure. A little insecurity is normal at this point in the brainstorming process, I’ve come to expect it. But right now, I feel even more handicapped than normal. A little fragile. Not quite myself. Not sure what to expect.
So I’m procrastinating, here instead.
If it weren’t for this minor drama turning me into a ball of stress, I might be looking for healthy, active ways to fill the flat and dangerous vacuum of my Saturday afternoon and evening. But I feel tied to the computer and my thoughts. My brain needs to perform, but half of it feels tied up in resisting the temptation to go grab a “well-deserved” Saturday evening cocktail. I mean, it’s almost 5-o-clock!
I just need to push through, knuckle-down and do it. Maybe a trip to the gym could be my reward for getting some thinking done this afternoon.
Last night’s bonfire with the husband didn’t end well. He slowly drank himself into the chair while I tried, in various light-hearted ways, to engage in conversation. Attempts were met with increasing reluctance and finally, mockery. I just got up and left. Felt angry and trapped. Was I overreacting? Maybe. Was he acting like an ass? Maybe. Will he remember it today? No.