Let me tell you about the time I lost my mind. I don’t mean mind losing on the scale of thinking my baby had a tapeworm or lacking balance. I mean a prisoner-of-war style mental breakdown that involved crying inconsolably.
In my boss’s office.
If I'd had any, I would have revealed corporate trade secrets or matters of national security.
It was two years ago, around this time of year, which is always stressful. There is a period of time from right after Christmas until around the time the daffodils bloom that I have a really hard time keeping it all together. I like to think of it as The Crash. In the history of my relationship with Dave, 12 years this May, I cannot remember a year that we didn’t experience The Crash. There are a lot of contributing factors that cause it (the weather, the Christmas let-down, etc.), but it leaves me feeling like my life is woven together with spider silk and I’m either going to get completely tangled up in it or it will all just blow away in the wind. I’m barely holding it together during this time.
So, two years ago, in the middle of The Crash, I was newly pregnant with Luke. In my experience, the first trimester of pregnancy is like walking around in the drowsiness of a codeine cough syrup fog. I could, and sometimes did, sleep anywhere at any time. It’s what the hormones do to me. That was all well and good when I was pregnant with Ella because I could come home and sleep, but when I was pregnant with Luke, I had an 18 month old Ella.
And she was sick. Very sick. We had started our year with a very fun birthday party at the McWane Center, and unfortunately, brought home an unwanted party favor. A nasty, nasty sinus infection. At that point, Ella had already started having ear infections, and so of course, she got another one. And so did I. I cannot remember ever having an ear infection in my life, but after doing my best to get rid of that sinus infection with Sudafed and Tylenol for two weeks (because I was pregnant and couldn’t take anything else), it moved into my ears and I had to call my doctor for antibiotics.
We were both sick, she was not sleeping, and this was the time when she started having apnea episodes because her adenoids were too big. Her sleep went from bad to tragically worse. She was waking up every half hour because she would stop breathing. I was sleeping with her because I was terrified and it was the only way to get any rest at all.
Work was extremely busy, as it tends to be at the first of the year when everyone is back from vacation. It was so busy that I would come into the office at 8 and barely move from my desk until after 5. I had to remember to get up to pee. And eat.
Seriously, I was probably not even qualified to operate a moving vehicle.
It was at that point that The Crash reached its peak –a stupid fight with Dave about something ridiculous. I don’t even know what it was about. But he is the best friend I have in this world, so when I’m in a state of mind like I was then and we cross up, it’s like someone just yanked the rug out from under my feet.
That’s where I was one morning when my boss found me sitting at my desk (in a cube farm), staring vacantly at my laptop, trying not to cry. He said something to me, probably, “How’s it going?” since that’s his usual greeting, and I lost it. I couldn’t speak; I couldn’t look up; I couldn’t not cry. He basically pulled me out of my chair and into his office so I could lose my mind in relative privacy. He waited until I got myself under control enough to talk and asked me what had happened. And I unloaded all of the above, with all the details I left out here, and then I cried some more.
I was so embarrassed, and at the same time, I couldn’t even care.
I have a wonderful boss. He told me to pack my stuff and work from home, and take a nap.
I did – that time, and many others when the exhaustion of pregnancy and toddlerhood was pushing me toward the brink.
The point is, when you are about to reach your wits end - with tooth brushing, sleep deprivation, poop cleaning, shoe putting on, whining, fit throwing, nose wiping, medicine giving, you get the idea – you need a break. A real one. One where you get to do something just for you without a kid hanging on you, while someone else takes care of your normal responsibilities. It might be a couple of hours of nap, or lunch with a friend, or a long soak in the tub, whatever, just take it. You’ll be better for it, and so will you kids. And so will your marriage. And your work, and your entire life perspective. If there’s any way to get one, take a break.
Don’t be me, blubbering like a fool to your boss. Take care of yourself.
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