TOO MUCH STUFF

There are a few recurring themes in my life. Alongside the crippling lack of self confidence, the quiet dependence on others, and the umpteen reasons why I'm utterly, utterly terrified of loneliness... is the propensity for doing too much stuff.

I'm doing too much stuff. And when you're doing too much stuff, you really have one choice of two options: give something up or collapse into uselessness. 

That's what they tell me anyway. Every now and again they look at me with concern and then they very firmly say the thing that's blisteringly obvious but looks like it isn't:

"You're doing too much."

"You're heading for a burnout."

"You need to look after yourself."

"You do know you've got paint in your hair?"

And I nod my head and listen while thinking about what to give up and how disappointing it will be. Pretty soon I'm spiralling into my own long list of internal failures and the whole thing feels heavier than carrying it all did in the first place.

But the voices don't stop. They echo through the ages of my life, familiar and stern.

I wish I could just do one thing. I wish I could just be so focused on one particular area, that I could say 'no' to everything else and be alright about it. It's easier said than done though isn't it? I like to help, I like to contribute and I like to be good at lots of things. And I am rubbish at multitasking.

I told the choir team that I have four major projects going on outside of my full-time job. They all told me off. I asked them what I should give up. They said whatever I felt was right. I made a lousy metaphor about dishwashers and then Simon said he had to go home because it was a quarter to ten. I felt rotten.

I'll be alright. I mean I'll figure it out and then have a holiday where I can walk through the hills and read Winston Churchill or something. But that seems a long way down the road. And there's nothing to prove I won't be here again eventually.