Oops! I did it again...

Hello. My name is Samantha Stevens and I'm a workaholic (cue canned laughter).

Sigh. And I was doing so well, too.

Every time I hear the word "workaholic," I react strongly. It doesn't exist in my mind. It's clearly something people can control (when you finish work, go home and relax), and in today's economy, with the dearth of employment, how can it possibly be a problem?

But it is--for me anyway.

December 2011: Sam had quit all extraneous jobs and, knowing she had to recover from major surgery which took place on November 28, 2011, did not accept another teaching contract at the university.

And within three months I have accepted other contracts, jobs, gigs--you name it--so that I'm now working 55-60 hours weekly once again. I have no idea how this happened. Nor do I have any idea why my email is tempting me with two more very nice contracts to which I have not yet responded. I think I'll take one of them. It doesn't begin until June and will last only a couple of weeks.

See? That's how my mind functions. "I'll just take one more contract...it's not very long-lasting...it pays well...I like what I'll be doing..." I'm ridiculous.

There is good news:

1. My tax deadline is approaching at which time I believe I will reclaim Saturdays as non-work time (or do-housework time, as the case may be).

2. Most of my performance contracts will be over by mid-May, so at that point I should have some more personal time opening up.

That's it, I guess.

I'll be honest; the thought of having spare time is giving me panic attacks. It's good that I'm seeing Therapist in a few weeks. Maybe he can help me. In the meantime, I think I need people to teach me how to play again. I need to learn how to waste time and stop being so anal about reliability, promptness, and organization. I'm back in that mode where, if' I have five minutes to spare, it needs to be utilized on some project. I've forgotten how to daydream and I don't remember the last time I really laughed about something--the kind of laughter which leaves you weak, helpless, and joyfully tearful. I'm not sure I even remember how to do that.

So I'm going to finish what I began (six more weeks of working 55 hours or more), I'm going to try to exercise restraint and stop looking for more contract work....

I just deleted my list. It had things on it like: read more books, take long walks, lie on the grass and look at the sky, go out to lunch with friends--you get the idea.

Even looking at that last sentence makes me feel like I'm going to throw up. I have a real problem. I need to solve it.

Guess what, Sam! Workaholism is real and you're the poster child!