I was lying on my orange couch staring away into space which contained a tv, usually seldom turned on, and with a cordless to my ear containing C's room noises and him. It is just past dinner time, and on tv are the after-dinner shows, about China's great wall or something. I am spacing out because I am terribly sick with a runny nose from allergies, and intoxicated with Fenfedrin to combat said runny nose. I feel terrible.
As I space out, I have an epiphany. I realise that the only way to control worry (over work) is to overwork. As you get work done, you have less to worry about. Once everything is planned, acted on and delegated, the work becomes again the excitement it is meant to be, instead of anxiety. This means acting tough, working despite the lack of rest, and despite sickness, and despite other commitments. Tell yourself you can rest later, eventually. Overworking is the only way to control worry.
It makes so much sense that I wonder why I never motivated myself with this logic before.
The most interesting insights come when I need them most, praise God, and they come when I simply sit or lie down doing nothing except just being alone with my thoughts, if any.
Why did I rest when I was tired, or spend all those mealtimes on weekends frolicking out of home and away from the office. In the end I get whiney and I sleep like crap, because I should just be an overachiever and have a less anxious kind of sleep.
But tonight is really not the night to continue working, alas, overworking is easier said than done, and I am still a skiver. I am going to bed soon, to continue sleeping worriedly, making anxious grunting groans as C says I do, and will blog more when I am better and can stop sneezing at the table. I will apply my newfound revelation tomorrow.
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