choosing the lesser life

There comes a time when you realize that you are doing more harm than good with all your crazy late nights, your too-early mornings, your pushing through, your endless yeses.  So your house is clean and the laundry is done and meals appear, from somewhere.  So what?  So you finish all the projects that you took on, you finish most ahead of time, you finish, triumphant, but really, why so many projects?  So you make a checklist, a physical checklist, and you furiously bam things off, one thing after another:  see? see? see?.  What were you thinking—or not thinking?  Is life some kind of competition?  Are you racing anyone but yourself?  Does it matter?

Do you realize what you have been doing to a body that was not made for this?

Do you know what the consequences are?

Over the last two months I have had my comeuppance—a body in revolt.  I have, also, been exceedingly lucky.  I've had some lessons to learn.  I have learned them.  I have had to make some choices.  They are getting made.  Less of this, thank you.  And less of that.  And more time with friends.  And more laughing with my husband.  And more living right now, as opposed to waiting for later.  And more dark, cool evenings, just hanging out, listening to my son.  (He tells me stories.  He cautions me.  He makes the world's most perfect sense.)

I like the sound of a lesser life.  I'm privileged to be able to choose it.