For as long as I can remember, I have been a hard-driving, take no prisoners workaholic. My senior year of high school, I was voted “Most Likely to Succeed” and although I have enjoyed some pretty terrific successes in life, I have never trusted them. My current position is fantastic and those who hired me consistently praise my work product, my work ethic and how the serious way I take my position shows in my performance. But, if someone says, “May I see you in my office a moment?” my mind immediately launches into a spinning reel of every recent action to determine why I am in trouble. Note: I have never actually been in trouble when called into a meeting and my boss has consistently said his goal is to help me downshift because my top speed is entirely too fast to be my daily rate.
I have done things like complete law school in two years with two small kids, worked full-time with small kids and a deployed spouse, or worked three jobs when my husband was off work on disability so my kids could eat and stay in their private school. I have faced immense loss that is so personal I do not even discuss it anymore. And NONE of those things have ever precipitated a decline in my general health.
It’s been almost four months since something happened that rocked my entire world. I’m not trying to vagueblog on purpose, but what precipitated the fallout isn’t the point of my post. Sufficed to say, it shattered pretty much any notion I had about life as I knew it and left me reeling.