I don't so much mind the overstimulation leaking onto other areas of my life, but lashing out at the person I love most is the saddening, sobering consequence of a pattern continuing for far too long. Not only are the tasks not handled, but I come home irritable and no fun to be around. It's a lose-lose.
We can’t care about everything at 100% intensity. We just can’t. The physics of the soul won't allow it. And yet, I find myself terrified of the alternative.
Our culture, and often our own psyche, demands constant peak performance. But a peak implies that there is a work-up to the top and a descent back down. Without that structure, its simply a plateau. In seasonal living, we flip this narrative.
