Last week was brutal. And by brutal I mean frustrating, devastating and all around, blech. On Monday I felt so overwhelmed with life that I asked my secret bff (the counselor) for an impromptu appointment. Luckily she had a cancellation. I visited her after visiting my papa in the hospital, who had recently had a stroke and we later learned mini heart attacks, too. I was also just on the mend from an awful case of bronchitis yet only took off about an hour off of work because I had too much to do. A new hire I desperately needed didn’t work out after just one week and I felt like I was drowning in every way. I was exhausted, stressed and seeing my grandfather so sick put me over the edge.
My counselor, as usual, let me vent — my ultimate Vent Sesh — and gave me some helpful advice. I’m so the person who, for better or worse, is always thinking 10 steps ahead that I create stress around things I cannot control and things that might never happen. She reminded me that I need to focus my energies in each moment on the things I can control. For example, at 10 pm I cannot find a new hire so stop stressing. At 7 pm is the limited window I get to spend with my daughter so enjoy it, see my husband, eat dinner, put the technology away and soak in the moment. Per usual, wise words and even though I left with the same stresses I walked in, I felt like life was more manageable again.
Twelve hours later, life didn’t want to give me a break: our old house that we’re renting (we moved in January) flooded due to the washing machine. All the floors have been torn up, lots of calls to insurance, GE, contractors, our tenants, you name it. THEN, on Wednesday morning, waking up completely drained and exhausted I got the worst text ever at 5:57 am: from my dad: “Call me when you can.” My gut knew what this meant. A minute later I was convulsing. My grandfather passed away.
If you’ve been reading here for a bit you’d know that my other grandfather passed away less than three months ago. I couldn’t believe it. The week spun by. I delivered, between tears, my first eulogy and deeply cried as military did the most beautiful flag presentation to remember my papa, who served our country during World War II. I listened as my grandma, his wife of 67 years cried her heart out, and yet I tried to accomplish work between it all. Owning a business doesn’t give you the breaks being an employee does.
To make matters worse, I ran scarily low on my nerve medication that essentially enables me to function, and I learned the tooth that has been bothering me for six months needs a root canal. Really? Awesome. I had enough. You wonder in those moments who thinks you’re strong enough to handle all of this at once? When do we get to say, wait, time out, I need a break from life? Just a few days! I recall now sitting in my counselors office thinking I couldn’t take it anymore, and yet… here I am after all this crap. And yet, I’m still standing. My only small relief is knowing that my grandfather led such a full life; what pains me more is the reminder that so many die before their time.
While I can’t take a life break right now I am working to find mini time out moments that energize me. Time with friends, quality time with my husband and daughter, alone time getting pedicures or simply laying in bed catching up on magazines. A warm bath, playing in my closet, anything! How do you handle things when things seem like there’s just too much to handle??
SWITCHING GEARS + REMINDER: Do you have a #ventsesh you want to share… good, bad, learning experience, emotional, just a vent? Simply share via Twitter with the #ventsesh hashtag, or participate in our first Vent Sesh link-up next Wednesday on June 20. If you’re a blogger, let me know in advance and you’ll be included on the June 20 Vent Sesh. Not a blogger? Email me at email@example.com with your Vent Sesh and I’ll post all reader entries that afternoon in one post. Yay!
Vent Sesh’s are my cathartic way to share, vent, breathe a little easier and selfishly, I’ve found such reward in connecting with other women. I am hopeful that all women that comment on these pots — or simply read them — find a sense of comfort and relief in knowing that there are others out there who can relate, even on days when they find it’s hard to believe that’s true.