remember that time 10 minutes ago when I microwaved a hot dog, a bag of popcorn, poured some wine into a coffee mug then stood and devoured all of it like a literal barbarian? oh, and while I was inhaling my dinner of champions, my fickle blood sugar was as high as Nappy Roots at Fat Frogg in 2010. stellar. don’t worry, I bolused the crap out of that bad larry. (the blood sugar, not the rappers….) anyway, my recognition of this moment was my humorous and utterly pathetic acceptance of today’s overall degree of difficulty. the final score of February 19th, 2014 is TODAY: 1, Libby: 0.
on your average (week)day, I hold myself to high(ish) behavior and appearance standards. and by high I mean: I pick my clothes out the night before work so I remember to wear undies like a big girl, I test my blood sugar before every meal and workout, I’ve never been more than an hour late to work, I’ve never left the house without mascara on, and I say thank you to everyone. you could literally be a homeless man outside my door, hand me a piece of trash in the morning, and I’d still say thank you as if you handed me a fresh grilled cheese from Roxy’s. anway, I’m digressing.
right before I left work tonight, I could feel my eyes drooping down my face like I was made out of pizza dough. my cheeks were hot, my temples were throbbing, and I thought to myself, “holy jeepers, every teeny tiny ounce of my being is exhausted right now. uncle! I cry uncle!” so then I left the office, went to the gym to run off any lagging powerpoint-related frustrations, came home, and raised my white flag. I then procured my 5-star meal comprised of all the major food groups, free of dyes and preservatives, and loaded with super foods and health helpers. jk, but it was my last ditch effort to survive this dreadful wednesday. and, on top of that, I have approximately zero guilt that all the while my blood sugar was well above a place it belongs. I’ve never been particularly combative with embracing my point of pre-burnout, and tonight, I just shook my head, welcomed it with a smile and a big dollop of ketchup on my hot diggity dog.
sometimes, it’s really hard to realize that for a day, or maybe a week, or maybe even a month, you just…couldn’t pull your shit together. maybe there are too many moving parts in your universe at the moment. you could have had a bad horoscope so your energy is off. perhaps you hurt your knee at spin because you pedaled too hard to keep up with the skinny bitch in your class so now you can’t work out. could you have possibly over done it on your credit card bill this month? or, like so many people all over the world at any given moment… maybe you got dumped? (sorry, #emo.) whatever the circumstances are, all I’m saying is, if you’re fried, be gentle with yourself. let yourself have a weak moment. watch an ellen degeneres cat video online, or go on buzzfeed and take a quiz about how many Justin Biebers you could take in a fight (I got 16…so much for being a Belieber…)
work is always going to be there for us to do, how to tackle it is always going to be a challenge given our schedules and our overwhelming desire to play instead. we’re always going to want to be better, stronger, faster than the next guy or gal in our peripheral vision. but by pushing ourselves until we’re running on mere fumes is, in my opinion, the least productive route we can take.
being conscious of when you’re about to reach a level of the tired-spectrum that hovers close to bat shit insanity is a valuable life skill. it’s tough to balance all that life throws at us, but our best defense mechanism against the unknown and the tumultuous is our mental and physical health. as soon as we breakdown to the point of exhaustion, we stop living our lives the way we really want to. we do weird shit like microwave hot dogs and call it a meal. we stop working out, we don’t drink enough water, we stop laughing, and we treat others like they’re the culprit of our own fatigue – thus perpetuating a cycle of the blame game, and one-upping…it’s bonkers.
so, if, like many of us, you feel like you’re nearing your breaking point (sidenote: we actually have a bottle of rum in my office called ‘the breaking point’ for when shit gets real…it’s effective, and I highly recommend it as a coping mechanism.), take a good look in the mirror. if you look like a you got in a fight with floyd mayweather, you can’t stand up straight, your voice is raspy, you just yelled at someone who brought you a coffee, and you’re blood sugars are as random as your mom’s emoticon use, it’s time for you to check yourself before you wreck yourself.
if it means we throw an oscar meyer in the microwave at 10:15PM once a year, so be it. now go get some sleep, let the little stuff go, and we’ll start over in a few hours. sweet dreams.
ps. yes, that photo is mine.