Finding Balance Amidst the Shitty Little Lurker's Visit
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Chapter 1: Embracing Free Time
This week started off wonderfully. With my major projects taking a pause for the summer, I found my inbox quieter and my to-do lists more manageable. The upcoming weeks feature fewer meetings, allowing me more breathing room.
With this extra time, I no longer feel rushed. I can indulge in reading during the day instead of squeezing it in at night. I finally have the chance to watch that movie I’ve been meaning to check out. I can even fit in workouts later in the day without the usual constraints.
But then, out of nowhere, he appears—the pesky little lurker.
I’ve worked hard to cultivate a balanced life, though it can be an ongoing challenge. Despite stepping away from corporate life and dodging unhealthy projects afterward, I still grapple with guilt when I’m not busy. It's part of my nature, intertwined with my OCD tendencies, forming habits that are tricky to break.
At the peak of my busyness, all I craved was the time to read, relax, travel, watch films, and enjoy moments with my family. Now that I have this time and have achieved a better balance, I still find myself dealing with that annoying little presence who keeps intruding.
I’m not entirely sure who this figure is or how he managed to invade my space, but he’s been lingering around this week, much to my chagrin.
I’m an early riser, waking up around 4:30 am without the need for an alarm. This routine has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. I typically make my bed, draw back the curtains, tidy my already organized room, and prepare my green drink and coffee. After a refreshing swim, I catch up on the news and write on Medium, aiming to accomplish a couple of significant tasks each day.
By 2 pm, my day is usually winding down. With my projects in a summer hiatus, I often find myself done by 10 am. As I write this at 8:05 am on Friday, I anticipate wrapping up my work by 9 am, leaving me with eleven hours of free time ahead.
Initially, this abundance of free time feels liberating. Some of my most cherished days are those when I have nothing pressing to attend to. Monday was delightful, Tuesday was enjoyable, but Wednesday was somewhat lackluster. Thursday, however, felt like an eternity spent in limbo.
I sense my wife and kids are aware of my restlessness. I often venture into my wife's workspace and casually ask, “What are you up to?” The response is usually delayed—“Just working.”
“Want to do something together?” I inquire.
In this moment, I’m placing my happiness in someone else’s hands. If she agrees, everything is wonderful. If she declines, however, it feels like I’m left with that lingering, unpleasant sensation (and I’ll let you look up what a durian is).
A few times this week, she had to decline due to her commitments, as did my daughter. And that little guy just followed me around, mocking me with a childish giggle.
In a yoga class I attended, the instructor guided us to close our eyes and lean slightly forward and then back. This exercise illustrated how we often feel unbalanced—leaning forward represents the future, while leaning back symbolizes the past. We can easily find ourselves perpetually falling into the unknown or the unchangeable past, but true balance exists only in the present.
Yet, there are moments when the present feels off-kilter—manifesting as boredom, lethargy, apathy, or simply one of those days. Sometimes, we require a gentle push to step out of our funk and recognize what we truly have.
This morning, as I browsed Medium, that little companion was perched next to me, smirking. I nudged him away, but he merely lingered behind, peering over my shoulder. Then, I stumbled upon two inspiring articles.
Melissa Gray wrote a poignant piece titled Someday, while Michele Maize penned a motivating article called Getting Out to Live. Both resonated with my current state, nudging me toward a more positive mindset. I already embraced their messages and sought to live by them.
However, knowing the right path doesn’t always mean we choose to follow it.
My little lurker was visibly unhappy. He handed me the remote for the Apple TV and my iPhone. I tossed the remote behind the couch, giving him something to occupy himself with for a while. With my phone in hand, I opened Google Maps and picked a destination I wanted to explore today. I invited my wife and kids to join, but they had their own plans.
That was perfectly fine; I relish my own company. They have their activities, and the little pesky lurker can sulk at home, watching Netflix.
As for me, I’ll be enjoying some time on the beach.
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