In the last month or so, I’ve been making some big changes to create space in my life.
Partly, I wanted to add things back into that space–things I value, but which have consistently gotten pushed out by things that were “urgent” but not important. At least, they weren’t really important to me.
Partly, I just wanted the space itself–some unstructured space in my life to think, to ponder, to breathe. What I call “figuring crap out time.”
What I have learned over the last few weeks in particular is that nature abhors a vacuum. I must have vastly underestimated how much pressure I would experience, as things attempted to shove their way into the space I’d created. To a certain extent, it was like opening a closet door and having its contents come crashing down on my head.
I didn’t know that there was an invisible queue of “stuff that wants into my life” waiting for a door to crack open a bit. They bum-rushed me a bit, I’ll admit.
So what now?
I catch my breath. I reassess things. I push back again, and create the necessary thinking space to figure out what gets in and what doesn’t. I have some hard conversations with some people who apparently had all kinds of plans for my time, or at least had some expectations for it that we probably should discuss.
And then I brace for the next wave.