|The next time I hear a celeb has passed out "due to exhaustion," I won't be so quick to cock a skeptical eyebrow.|
Last week, my body exacted payment for all this work.
Very dramatically, I collapsed. Blacked out and bumped my head. When I came to, like a movie, faces hovered over mine asking if I was okay.
I was rushed to the ER, strapped to an orange chair with wheels, rolled into the ambulance van, and given a battery of tests. The $5,000 prognosis? I was tired. Oh, and I need to drink more water.
I've spent the past few days doing major reassessment. I've always prided myself on "doing the work," and I've always believed the "I worked to get where I am" narrative. But I've come to realize that working yourself into the ground does not lead to success.
Work implies control. But the truth is, success is a confluence of so many factors, besides the work you put, in that are completely outside your control.
It's been tough for me to accept this. But I have to. I have bumped against this lesson my whole life, and particularly in the last year and a half as I've driven myself at dizzying speeds to get where I want to go faster. ("Faster," twin to "impatience," is my problem.) It's time to learn this lesson once and for all.
I'm working on it. Slowly.