Mostly, the word "perhaps" just makes this song start playing in my head:
It will probably be there all day now.
Maybe you'd prefer it in Spanish? This one's really good:
Now that we have a soundtrack, I have a thought.
Maybe the problem with me is not that I'm not good enough at managing my time, as I have suspected. I keep thinking if I can be more efficient, more streamlined, more productive, more...something...I'll be able to cram it all in. I'll somehow find myself with enough hours in the day and enough mental space to tackle all the things I want to do.
Today, though, I wonder if perhaps this is never going to be true.
Today, I think that if I found myself with an extra hour every day, I would fill it with something. I'd read another book or learn another language (I'm learning French on Duolingo, and it's great- if you're on there, I'd love to follow you!). I'd take up another instrument or start making rosaries fast enough to open an Etsy shop. I'd write that book that's been floating around in my head for three years now, or polish up some articles and submit them to magazines. I'd mop the kitchen floor more often. I'd edit my photos and learn more about how to take my camera off auto and run more miles.
Perhaps the issue is not a lack of time. I have the same number of hours in my day as you do, as anyone does. Perhaps the issue is my expectations of myself- so high! always aim high! no, a little higher! Perhaps I just don't know how to sit still.
Or perhaps I'm afraid to sit still.
Being busy and productive is the hallmark of mental health, right? As long as I'm moving forward with pep and vigor, I'm not sliding backward into a mire of yucky feelings. I'm not giving anyone a reason to think I'm lazy- least of all myself.