When I actually sit down to think about it, I find that long weekends are both a blessing and a curse for me. I often find that I don’t spend the gift of the extra day off doing anything terribly productive. On Monday, I was finding that I actually wanted to be working. That’s not right. It’s no wonder I’m stressed or wound up very frequently.

I need the time off. I need opportunities like this to recover. I don’t normally take time off for myself, so I need these forced days. Thing is, during the recovery phase, I get all twitchy and restless.

It really is in my nature to be in constant conflict with myself. I don’t think I’ll ever get to a stable point where I’m just content (for a very extended period). There’s always something to do, or some new goal to strive for. That’s a good thing to a point. Of course, it leads me to feel guilty when I can’t take on the weight of the world. Truly, I feel like I could always be doing better and reaching more. Sometimes those sentiments turn negative when I feel like a lazy fat-ass slob that can’t seem to get his shit together–which I know is totally off-base.

As a friend told me a while ago…I just need to “be.” There’s that part of me that has to wonder whether “being” is sufficient enough. I guess, once in a while I have to indulge my better self and tell that nagging voice to just STFU.