At ten pm on a Monday, I found myself sprawled out on my untidy, infrequently-vaccuumed floor, surrounded by mountains of clothes, my laptop, a disarray of flashcards, and several accounting spreadsheets.
I was desperately trying to study for my midterm but was interrupted by the click of my doorknob, and my roommates Gabby and Sara let themselves in.
“Hey, we should talk about our living situation for next year.”
“Of course,” I said, distant, trying to find a good stopping spot. I was slightly irritated that I had to take a break, but was still appreciative of the arrival of company. They took a seat on my unmade bed, I shut my laptop, and we began to discuss.
“Obviously we want to look for a smaller place, it’ll be cheaper,” Gabby begun, “but we just want to know where you’re at.”
“What do you mean?” I said, puzzled.
Unsmiling, Sara said, “We’re just afraid that you’re not happy living here. Like, with us.”
“That’s not true!” I exclaimed, stunned. “Why do you think that?”
“It’s because you’re never here, and when you are, you’re in your room,” replied Sara, cautiously.
“We want you to live with us,” assured Gabby. “We love you. We don’t want to break up the core three. But, is this really what you want?”
“Yeah. And we hope you don’t feel attacked by this or anything, but we just want to know—’’
“No, no!” I interrupted. “I don’t feel attacked at all! I feel loved, actually. I appreciate you coming to me.”
Immediately I knew what the problem was—it wasn’t my roommates at all.
The problem is that I am an overcommitter. A serial yes-woman, if you will.
From term to term, I find myself constantly busy. This quarter is especially challenging, with me taking 18 credits, working part time, and doing loads of extra-curriculars.
The life of a college student, am I right?
Unfortunately, I’ve missed many nights at home because I had to work or perform, and have even found myself stuck at the library until the wee hours of the morning, multiple times a week.
It’s my own fault. I chose to tack on the minor, and to take 18 credits. I chose to run three programs, and join college choir. I chose to work.
And these are my consequences—strained relationships, and ultimately, missing out on the love and laughs at home. My schedule was so packed that I was focusing more on my work than on doing life with my girls, and experiencing and enjoying college.
It was then that I decided that it was time to reprioritize.
“We’ll find a three bedroom next year,” I promised. “I love you guys. I’m so sorry I’m always gone, and I’ll try to be home more. It’s just hard, with my schedule. But don’t let my busyness make you think that I don’t love being here.”
I’m now taking steps to say yes to less. Or, rather, say yes to the right things. When being busy gets in the way of my relationships and quality of life, it just isn’t worth it anymore.
