Crash and Burn

Every once in awhile, like today, it dawns on me that I don't necessarily approach life in the most healthy way.

I usually realize this when I get clobbered like I did today. When I get out of bed in the morning and realize I am so exhausted or so physically ill that it is simply not going to be possible for me to do anything more than lay in bed and read or, ahem, write on my blog.

You see, I live my life like it is the world's biggest competition and I simply have to place in the coveted top slots. I also live my life like it is a speeding train that I have to run to catch up to and then jump on and hold on for dear life.

A good friend of mine once observed, "You don't live life, Patti, you ride the shit out of it."

And, sadly, this is nothing new. I didn't develop this approach to life from living in DC for a decade, although it certainly stimulated it. I have always been like this and, approaching 40 in a few years, it appears that my body and I need to have a serious conversation about how this isn't going to be working for us anymore and that modifications must be made.

Back when I was in my twenties and even early thirties, I was able to go full-throttle this way. My approach was to cram as much experience into 24 hours as humanly possible. Luckily, I have always coveted alone time so I didn't burn out on people as much as I could have but I made up for it in other ways.

After a long day at work I thought it was perfectly acceptable to stay up until 1 or 2am and read newspapers, blogs, political commentary, emails, and, Dear God, the evolution of Facebook really didn't do me any favors...

I would follow this routine day-in and day-out for about six weeks and then all of a sudden crash and burn in a very big way. I tried to time these crash and burn episodes around weekends but, unfortunately, it never quite worked out that way. I would wake up, as I did this morning, with some horrible flu run amok that I'd been ignoring or just so exhausted that keeping my eyes open hurt and then I would take to my bed for three or even four days to recover.

Highly, highly, unhealthy, I know, but I just never really learned any other way to be. I threw in some yoga and meditation classes to try to calm myself down about five years ago but, although they helped, the peaceful state of mind they induced was abused. Instead of coming home from a yoga class, taking a bath, and heading to bed early, I would use my newly found inner peace to get online and read about other people's inner peace. Then I would compare the two and see if I needed to supplement something in case my inner peace was lacking. Which led to more research, which led to more time awake than asleep, and which fed into the whole nasty cycle again.

This time around a friend caught me in the act when she noticed the Maalox bottles.

She was sitting in my car and happened to glance down and see one in the center console. And an empty in the backseat. And the Tums in my purse.

"Patti, you realize that you have at least three or four types of stomach medicine around you at any given time and it has been this way for the past week. They're on your desk, on the kitchen table, by your bed, and, now, all over your car. What the hell is going on with you, Ebola virus?"

Nothing, I assured her. Minor stomach upset. It's going away...

"Minor? You have enough drugs around you to deal with the digestive disorders of an entire herd of African elephants, and you think that is minor?"

I ignored it and made a mental note to hide my little Maalox addiction in brown paper bags in the future.

However, realizing that perhaps this wasn't the best way to deal with things, I decided to go cold turkey for a day or two and see if that niggling little stomach virus had cleared up on its own.

Well, guess what? It hadn't. Not in the least bit. Not even a little, tiny bit.

In fact, waking up at 5am this morning, my body decided to go into a revolt the manner of which I have not experienced in a long time. Trying to get dressed for work and take a shower seemed to be tasks on par with running a 10K marathon. I knew it just wasn't happening for me. I went back to bed after sending an email to the office.

As I was lying there, trapped by my body, I started to think about how this crazy approach to life has had other negative repercussions on me as well.

For one, it is a real sticking point with my boyfriend who simply cannot understand why I stay up all night on weekends.

"Well, I can't stay up all night on weeknights because I have to go to work so now that I have a chance to stay up all night without any repercussions, I want to do it!" I told him.

"But aren't weekends for relaxing? You know, like going to bed early, sleeping a little late? I mean, aren't you tired at the end of the week? Why not just go to bed? Why not just go to bed to be with me?" he asked.

I was about to reply, "Because I might miss something!!" but didn't.

It's very difficult to explain this condition to someone who doesn't have it.

Of course I am tired. Of course I "want" to go to bed. But that never wins out over wanting to stay awake and see what might be happening next.

But today, when I crashed, I realized that some reconsideration might be in order.