I used to want to become an actress. And believe me when I tell you that I would have done anything to make this dream a reality. My first stage performance was through the community theater's rendition of "The Best Christmas Paegent Ever." I can't tell you what the story was even about, but what I can tell you is that I was absolutely committed. I practiced for hours. I stayed late at rehearsal. I stayed up late in bed dreaming of stage lights. I made sure that my singing was flawless and my one line of, "there's a fire!" was performed with the most genuine emotion an eight year old can muster. Call it crazy. Call it passion.

My dreams of being the next child celebrity lasted until about high school, where I decided that my passions can not be confined into one talent. I joined marching band, the broadcasting club, theater, debate team, radio, and the competitive speech team (laugh now, but guess who isn't afraid of public speaking?). I balanced these things. I stayed late at school, I practiced in my down time, I wrote scripts, and edited sound bytes. I'm not entirely sure if I did these things solely because of passion, or because of a need to constantly be occupied with something. More than likely, it's a combination of the two.

I'm notorious for biting more than I can chew.

And this is really fine. I've always tried to make it "fine." I rearranged my schedules, sacrificed sleep, and joked about my "chaotic schedule" until I convinced myself that it was actually funny. While I have very fond memories of the time I spent engulfed in my hobbies, I also have not-so-fond memories of pushing my face into the tear-soaked carpet of my bedroom floor, wishing I didn't put myself through so much; begging for just a few minutes of rest. At eight, at fourteen, at seventeen, at twenty-three, I have been forced to consistently remind myself that I do not need sleep. I do not need rest. My passions, my drive, and my desire to do something meaningful was greater than the limitations of my physical body. I just needed to be superwoman. Because that's super reasonable. I need to do it all.

And I definitely still try. I jam pack my schedule with obligations. And truly, I love it. I love what I get the opportunity to do on a weekly basis. I love feeling the value in my work. I love knowing that these experiences are building blocks of the woman I will become. It truly is rewarding.

But I'm exhausted. I'm on the verge of another carpet-ridden cry fest. It really is one of those, "what-do-I-do-with-my-hands" kind of feelings. I quite literally don't know what to do with myself, sometimes. When I have downtime, I'm making plans. When I have a moment of rest I'm looking for something else to do. I consistently fall back on my default: "this is what it takes to become the person that I want to be." Sometimes I really do believe it. But lately, I'm starting to believe that that idea is a load of crap.

I often find myself right back at this place. This place of having to choose whether or not I'm going to cry, change, or simply "suck it up." This is the place where I am usually forced to remind myself that there is a method to my madness. This is the part where I typically convince myself to deal with it because this is who I am. This is what is necessary. This is what it takes to become a valuable woman. It usually works. But now, I just can't do it anymore.

I'm done.

If being a 'valuable woman' and 'following the path I'm meant for' involves endless work loads, I don't want it. If these things involve dark circles and lost friendships, I don't want it. If these things do not incorporate even an ounce of rest then I don't want it.

But I'm not exactly sure these things actually involve my loss of sanity. Because this seems to work out for everyone else. While I am no advocate for comparison, I just can't help but notice that this seems so much easier for other people. Normal, everyday people wake up from a full night's sleep, have restful weekends without consideration to what they have to do in the upcoming week, and end up becoming entirely successful. Seriously, Why is it so hard for me to realize that rest is just as essential as everything else I do?

Honestly, I don't know. It could be my own insecurity. It could be my own "perfectionist" nature. It could be the fact that I have always seen myself as a tenacious actress, ready to fit whichever role I was needed. And while I have a thrill for the stage, I need to remind myself that there's a reason actors "take 5." There's a reason humans sleep. There's a reason I'm running on empty after a couple decades worth of running around. I'm not superwoman. I do not need to do it all. And when I don't "do it all," I will still be valuable. I will be okay.