Workaholic

I find myself reminded how important it is to write and be present. How important it is not to be like my father? There are so many ways I want to be like him. But being a workaholic is not one of them. And yet I find myself feeling guilty if I say no. As if I am denying the universe what I've asked for. If it will backlash me in some way. I'm beginning to realize the fallacy in this thought process. It's a big piece. How do I have fun and make money? How do I find the balance in the dance of life. It feels as if I am sweating every ounce of my energies out into the world. I'm losing my soul the constant drum of the beat of commitments. It felt so unbelievable real to experience fire ceremony, to be reminded that who I am at my very core is a shaman/wiccan priestess. That is who I am and when I get bogged down by other commitments I lose the connection. I need to remember that I do not need to take every commitment that comes into my life. I do not need to work myself into the ground. I'm loosing chances to connect with those who I hold dear. I want dearly to connect with friends before I leave and start my new life. Romanticizing the thought of Portland is sticky. It causes a false sense of security. What if I let go and accepted that though my father was a workaholic that I do not need to follow in his footsteps. The next phase of the grief, breaking negative beliefs that my father passed onto me.