As much as I don't love that this is true, there is a predictable pattern that unfolds before I find myself sunk back into my workaholism. It usually goes something like this: I forget how much I love my life when it is spacious and I have the time to read the novels, play with the grandkids, and go for drives with the husband.
I forget to think carefully before I say yes to some other contract, project, or exciting shiny thing that is happening in our She Recovers community. I realize that I am going to have to juggle more than I want to juggle.
Then I get anxious. I start juggling more than I want to juggle.
I feel inadequate, I fear that I will let somebody down somewhere along the way, and I pick up speed, moving into hyper-competent mode. I get up earlier and stay up later to work.
I begin to burn out. I remember I am a workaholic, and I stop.