One more day. One more day of working at my computer only to realize that I've made a mistake, or have been staring at the screen without producing anything, and realizing I truly don't give a shit about it. Of thinking of the many responsibilities I've postponed or flat out neglected and realizing I have no intention or will to do them. Of physically hurting every day knowing that it's a direct result of stress, lack of sleep, and the pressure of being depended on so heavily at work.
Today I basically snapped at a colleague when he was trying to postpone until tomorrow my directions to fulfill a favor I'd asked of him, since I know that someone has to be my backup while I'm gone. After dropping everything for others or multi-tasking constantly to help out for years when my colleagues couldn't get to something, I saw red even though I had no right to do so since I'm asking for his help. I'm obviously at the end of my rope, because I've had every one of my colleagues ask me if I'm okay at least once in the past two weeks and I've lost my temper at my colleagues four times where it was noticeable.
My boss and department have been amazing in accommodating my sudden leave, which makes me feel appreciated, although embarrassed that I'm that transparent about not doing well. Even the bankers have asked about my health, which means I really must look terrible, or my aura of apathy and exhaustion even reaches them (and that's saying A LOT). My colleagues and clients deserve better than the less than half-assed job I've been doing for the past year and I think this is the first step.
Do I think I won't burn out again? No. I'm realistic about it, especially knowing the intricacies required for truly stellar work, the mental fatigue that accompanies it, and the lack of resources to do our jobs well that frustrates and adds to the pressure. Add another stressor and yes, I might break again, but each time I go through this I'm trying to make it easier and learn to mitigate or delay a crisis if possible.
So I return to work tomorrow, finishing up the rushed transfer of responsibility that accompanies giving a little more than a week's notice for a three week unpaid leave, and hope it all works out. I've told work that if they need, they can call me or I can come in if I'm not in NJ, but I must be so bad off that they make it sound like it would have to be a giant emergency to even call me. My colleague who lives seven blocks away even offered to come over any time if I need anything (she's a really kind person; she offered to bring anything I needed when I had the flu too).
When that happens, sometimes I worry about what I must look and sound like for people to be that hesitant to contact or stress me. Then I realize that 75% of me really doesn't care because I've given up my pride and accepted a sort of defeat. I think they hear the resignation in my voice, the barely suppressed rage in my sharp retorts and cynical outlook, my pain in the suppressed gasps when I shift the wrong way and scar tissue pulls and flares up.
Yet in another way, this is a victory, not a defeat. I'm doing what I need to and putting myself first. I've finally allowed myself to be honest about how the year has affected me and let myself rest mentally and physically for a change. I'm choosing to see my uncle for the first time since my aunt's funeral, to see my other aunt who I haven't seen since August, and to spend time with my parents in NJ for the first time since June, which was the last time I was healthy and rested enough to even contemplate the two hour trip. When that is the scenario, I'm sacrificing too much; not just my health, but also the family relationships that can be turbulent, but can also support you when you're not strong enough yourself.
One more day. I can do this.
Today I basically snapped at a colleague when he was trying to postpone until tomorrow my directions to fulfill a favor I'd asked of him, since I know that someone has to be my backup while I'm gone. After dropping everything for others or multi-tasking constantly to help out for years when my colleagues couldn't get to something, I saw red even though I had no right to do so since I'm asking for his help. I'm obviously at the end of my rope, because I've had every one of my colleagues ask me if I'm okay at least once in the past two weeks and I've lost my temper at my colleagues four times where it was noticeable.
My boss and department have been amazing in accommodating my sudden leave, which makes me feel appreciated, although embarrassed that I'm that transparent about not doing well. Even the bankers have asked about my health, which means I really must look terrible, or my aura of apathy and exhaustion even reaches them (and that's saying A LOT). My colleagues and clients deserve better than the less than half-assed job I've been doing for the past year and I think this is the first step.
Do I think I won't burn out again? No. I'm realistic about it, especially knowing the intricacies required for truly stellar work, the mental fatigue that accompanies it, and the lack of resources to do our jobs well that frustrates and adds to the pressure. Add another stressor and yes, I might break again, but each time I go through this I'm trying to make it easier and learn to mitigate or delay a crisis if possible.
So I return to work tomorrow, finishing up the rushed transfer of responsibility that accompanies giving a little more than a week's notice for a three week unpaid leave, and hope it all works out. I've told work that if they need, they can call me or I can come in if I'm not in NJ, but I must be so bad off that they make it sound like it would have to be a giant emergency to even call me. My colleague who lives seven blocks away even offered to come over any time if I need anything (she's a really kind person; she offered to bring anything I needed when I had the flu too).
When that happens, sometimes I worry about what I must look and sound like for people to be that hesitant to contact or stress me. Then I realize that 75% of me really doesn't care because I've given up my pride and accepted a sort of defeat. I think they hear the resignation in my voice, the barely suppressed rage in my sharp retorts and cynical outlook, my pain in the suppressed gasps when I shift the wrong way and scar tissue pulls and flares up.
Yet in another way, this is a victory, not a defeat. I'm doing what I need to and putting myself first. I've finally allowed myself to be honest about how the year has affected me and let myself rest mentally and physically for a change. I'm choosing to see my uncle for the first time since my aunt's funeral, to see my other aunt who I haven't seen since August, and to spend time with my parents in NJ for the first time since June, which was the last time I was healthy and rested enough to even contemplate the two hour trip. When that is the scenario, I'm sacrificing too much; not just my health, but also the family relationships that can be turbulent, but can also support you when you're not strong enough yourself.
One more day. I can do this.
posted by AnonymousX at 10:27 PM
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