I've got three live's worth of stuff going on.
Despite my efforts to simplify, simplify. Yes, gentle reader, I have been trying to simplify! Don't scoff so.
And yet, even with my apparent failure to simplify, I'm mostly at peace, and happy. I seem able to separate the busy-ness from my sense of self and self-worth. Sure, I'm deeply concerned about the cat on death's door, and Nick's 12 year old hormonal stuff (are we bound for a 5150? Hope not!), and Xena's overwhelm, and whether the roommates are going to stay or go, and whether I'll earn the money to pay the mortgage, and how will I build the coalition for redeveloping the house through creative re-use...
But all that is stuff that's tied to the world of cause and effect, and is therefore secondary to whether I'm right with God. All of it is in service to my life's true purpose. It's like going to a feast, and the table is filled with more things than I can count.
Ah, there it is: it's not that I'm not juggling too many things. The proper metaphor is that my life is a banquet, and I can't possibly fit all this onto my one plate. But I can have fun trying to!