As I hit snooze for the 5th time that morning and asked myself what could possibly have gone wrong since I closed the laptop on work the night before, I realized that I was done. I had logged over 12 hours per day for the past 2 weeks, I had spent no time with my son and his behavior showed it. My daughter was whiny and defiant. My husband was detached and probably a little afraid of me. I had stopped responding to friends and family weeks(?) before. I was more withdrawn and reclusive than ever, even considering my introvertedness.
Why do we think we have to do it all? Why do we push ourselves until we’re physically and mentally ill, then push further? Like most of us, I’ve read the articles. I asked for help, but my boss did not listen. It’s a temporary spike, she said. But I’m drowning, I said. I’m dropping balls all over the place.
And I cried. And I made more mistakes. My acid reflux was so bad that I vomited acid every night. I snapped at my husband and kids. Finally, when I started having panic attacks, I called the EAP. They listened to me. They suggested a counselor and referred me to a local therapist. They suggested I take a leave of absence. I hesitated. I have a chronic illness and I have never taken a leave of absence. (I was once in ICU for 3 days, and returned to work 2 days after I was released.) Now they want me to take leave for stress. What? I have too much to do. I don’t have time for a leave of absence.
A few days out of the office and I saw what I couldn’t before. Hindsight, right?
And, here I am. I am on leave. And I realize that everything is a mess. Where do I start? The house? My psyche? My kids? My marriage? My other relationships? My career? I start this journey now. I can’t wait to see where it takes me!
What I Don't Say 