That was the sound of me hitting the wall.
I’m all too familiar with the idea of hitting the wall during a workout, but it’s a pretty rare occurence at work. I’m used to powering through, even during crazy times, on deadline, under pressure. A big diet coke, some Hershey’s miniatures snuck from candy bowls scattered around the office and a few laughs with my project team are usually enough to keep me going.
As I’ve learned over the past month, “generally” and “usually” don’t apply right now. My team at work has been gunning to finish a report over the last week, with lots of writing, editing, more writing and more editing. Yesterday, the clock was ticking loudly, and then my wireless mouse broke. I went to check in with my boss, broken mouse in hand, and that’s when the dam broke.
I’ve never been one to shy away from crying at work, however taboo it may be. Life happens at work–very often at work, in fact, when you’re there for most of your waking hours–and it’s not always pretty. But yesterday was the first time I can remember actually crying over work. I had to admit that my brain fog is slowing me down, that I’m not working at full speed, that I needed help. It was really, really hard.
But then the help came, along with some palpable relief for having admitted what I’d been fighting for weeks, and my brain fog lifted a bit. The report got done–it always does, somehow–and I made it through today tissue-free. Tomorrow may bring lots of laughs, or more tears–it’s tough to predict, these days. But maybe I’ll stop short of the wall this time.