work/life balance
I’m writing this tinyletter at lunchtime in the thin strip of park of Gordon Square. I am surrounded by students and UCL workers, people sat on blankets and jackets, some like me sat straight onto the grass. We cover nearly every inch of green. Sun-seekers on a hot, clear blue London day. I’m writing this in the 15-minute space of time between a meeting with my Dissertation supervisor and my work lunch break. Tonight I will go to a lecture, tomorrow I will prep for an interview, Thursday I am back at uni for an Editorial Meeting, Friday I have drinks with ex-work friends I have not seen in months. At the weekend I will make a pilgrimage to Liverpool for my annual Eurovision party with some other friends and their two children. It's a visit I look forward to each year.
Working, writing and studying is a constant push and pull between “Am I working enough” and “I should take a break?” I ping pong between obligations and start to resent any extraneous demands on my time (and then resent that resenting since it's often things I would normally enjoy). I live two weeks ahead of myself. My calendar is booked up way ahead in advance. The joke I tell to my friends about booking in with me more 6-weeks ahead of time is getting less and less funny the more I tell it. I often mistake tomorrow for today, existing in a space yet to come rather than the one I'm in. I only seem to be able to remember things if they are in my calendar or written down onto a post-it note. Everything else gets lost.
About once a week I have a conversation with my gf that follows a set formula: you’re working too hard, she will tell me. I don’t think I am, I will say back, I just have a lot going on right now. I foresee myself saying this for the next year at least until my degree is over. I honestly have no idea how you tell if you are working too hard or not enough: if it's self-care you're practising or you're being lazy. I know so far I have managed to keep all these multiple plates spinning and I tell myself I work hard. Others say that I do too, but it doesn't feel like that when it's 2pm on a Sunday and all I've done is play video games and put a wash on. I’m writing this now as I walk back to my office where I will switch off the other part of my brain that is worrying about uni and writing and if I’m getting anywhere fast enough and think instead about different deadlines: purchase orders to be sent out and book proofs to be checked.
The tiny narrative that I'm writing now is that sometimes we can only do so much. I nearly didn’t do a tinyletter at all this week. But I wanted to write something if only to record a snapshot of my story so far, myself in the messy in-between of my week, pulled between obligation, expectation, work and my passion: a drive to write that keeps me going even when I think I can’t anymore. There’s a lot of power in recording ourselves and writing things down, no matter how haphazard. At least that's my hope for tomorrow and the day after, and then who knows where I'll be.
If you have a tiny narrative to share please get in touch at thetinynarrative@gmail.com