I'm rereading "Remarkably Bright Creatures" by Shelby Van Pelt for my book club.  One of the lines near the beginning of the book caught my attention and resonated with me.  "Tova has always felt more than a bit of empathy for the sharks, with their never-ending laps around the tank.  She understands what it means to never be able to stop moving, lest you find yourself unable to breathe."  When I read that, I felt it.

I'm retired now.  I don't have to go to work four days a week.  I can relax, but I can't relax.  I try to relax and I am getting a little better, but I push myself all day long.  This morning I started making tomato sauce at 6:30am, while Jack watched TV.  I took the dogs, one at a time, for long, hard walks.  I did laundry, shopped for groceries and then had some lunch.  It's afternoon now, almost time to pick up Jack and I'm tired.

I keep moving, stay busy because why?  I'm the same at work, just keep going, don't sit down.  Is it a Protestant thing?  A Calvinist thing?  That I'm only worthy if I work and produce something?  Did I miss out on Catholic and Jewish guilt, only to be sadled with a Protestant work ethic?

I've never really thought about it before.  Is it a Protestant work ethic or is it ADHD?  All I know is that I have a hard time sitting still and because I'm a judgy type of person, I think less of people who are able to relax and sit and enjoy life.  Sigh.  

It never ends, does it?  This looking in the mirror at oneself.  Oh, and I judge myself for being judgy too.  

People (I mean myself) are weird.  I'm weird.  Probably not any weirder than anyone else, but still weird.