Boundaries

This week has made me aware of how easily disturbed my boundaries are. It is hard to fit in all the things I want to do, need to do, feel that I should do and it is my resonsibility to do. Given time to reflect and plan I can figure it out: I have redrawn my trusty 'week-planner' form with bold lines around the boxes indicating my desk-time, time to answer e-mails, blog, sort out the money and so on; I have reviewed the weekends between now and Christmas with a view to giving each one a clear goal (time with friends, mum's time alone, family time etc.); I have put plans for Christmas in place put in alternative family visits. It is all fine until my son wants to discuss brain tumours when I have five minutes before I am due out or when someone expresses sadness that they have not seen me as much as they would like or I realise that I've not 'phoned someone in a long while but I only have a half-hour to spend by myself or on the chatting with them. I let the boundary get pushed, the bold line blurs, I squeeze something in and leave late.
I cannot believe, no matter how tempting, that I have more to do than anyone else. I wonder if I am too greedy for time to myself: time to run and paint and blog and read and all the other stuff I'd love to do. I know that I revisit my decisions over and again, wasting energy and peace, in a desire to make everyone feel happy, usually resulting in those very people being blasted with harsh words and resentment. I would to be able to capture these wriggly, slimy uncomfortable feelings of guilt and irritation and exise them and perhaps pinning them down with these words and exposing them to the light may begin to rob them of their power.