I’ve often been known to “over-commit”. I put that in quotation marks because it’s not something I personally believe it, but the phrase has been thrown at me by many different people, at many different points in time, over the years, I’m beginning to wonder if it’s true.

With my job, I don’t exactly get much time to relax on a daily basis. And because my job requires a high level of mental alertness, I’m usually quite drained by the time I get home. So I’m mostly unable to do anything else after 6pm. Occasionally, I’d arrange to meet up with friends, or go for dinner with colleagues. Most of the time, I just want to go home and do nothing. Nothing significant, at least.

Then the weekend approaches and I’ll have all these little things to do that can seem overwhelming at times; mostly because I’ve completely exhausted my weekly capacity by then to do anything that is even remotely challenging. Then I’d have all this guilt inside of me, wondering why I can’t even put aside a few hours each week to get these things done. And I’d hate myself for having all these feelings.

At this point, everything becomes emotional. I’d read an article about a girl meeting a celeb, and I’d want to cry. I’d read about a person buying her dream home, and I’d want to break down. Yes, it all seems a bit much, especially when you click on those links and see exactly what those two were about, then you’d probably wonder why I’m such a sook. I can’t explain it myself, but it’s like I can feel the emotions that these people are going through, and I’m just so happy for them y’know?

Yes, I don’t even know what I’m talking about.

I guess it’s just one of those days, huh?

So my visit to Brissie wasn’t as long as I would’ve liked (mostly because I have this little commitment called “work”) still, it was a good trip. After all, the main purpose of this trip was to catch up with everyone and hang out with my girls. And even though I treasured every single moment with them, it’s also made me realise that they’ve all grown older without me.

Don’t get me wrong, we’ve not grown apart. I’m just no longer a big part of this life that they are now forging. And y’know what? It hurts. It hurts that I can’t be there to offer help during times of crisis, or share in their joy when they (finally) announce that they’re expecting or even something simple like offering my opinion when they’re choosing a piece of furniture. I just really want to be there for them. But I can’t.

I’m still grappling with the fact that they’re so far away now and we can only meet up as often as we’re able to travel to each other’s cities. And y’know, just as I hate not being there for their big moments, I also hate that they can’t be here to share mine. (Dia & Nessa, you girls had better stay local!)

The new semester begins tomorrow. It’s back to the routine of waking up before 6am & spending about 10 hours at work each day. Explain to me again why I’m not feeling excited?

So I’m leaving for Germany this Friday night (4th), will be back on the 13th, then I’m off to Brisbane to visit my girls on the 16th, and will be back on the 23rd. With a schedule like that, one would think that I’m almost like a jet-setter. Alas, this faux jet-setter had a ton of administrative work to contend with (and is – believe it or not – still contending with) and is frustrated to the point that she can’t wait for the whole shebang to end just so she can go on her ACTUAL vacation and relax her days away in good ol’ Brissie.

I kinda feel like I’m cheating on Germany.

You see, I love planning for trips and doing all the research, and I can get all the admin stuff tied up without any whining. But it is completely different when it’s a matter of work and you have to be accountable to plenty of neurotic folks who insist you plan for the worst. Not that it’s bad or anything, but it’s unnerving and it makes me think of too many worst-case scenarios than I’m legally comfortable with. Scenarios so unlikely that I’m surprised they didn’t ask us to plan in the event of a plane crash. Or what if we encounter an accident on the Autobahn? Or get collective food poisoning? Now why aren’t we planning for those? Can you tell I’m irritated?

I hate having such feelings. I should be looking forward to learning and appreciating the history and culture of the place, but because everything leading up to the day of our departure has been such a chore, I’m not sure if I can give Germany its due. I know I’ll go back one day and really see it the way it intends for me to, but I’m upset that it will now be associated with all the crazy paperwork that my colleagues and I were made to do. And we all know that’s not a good first memory of a place.

So please forgive me, Germany. I promise I’ll do my best to not let my own “baggage” get in the way of our relationship.