Choosing me

Last night, in a battle between what I needed and what others expected of me, I did something scary, unusual, selfish, and long overdue:

I chose myself.

My new job has been good, but hard. More travel than I expected. More managing competing priorities than I expected, too, although I really should have seen that one coming. So much holding of other people’s baggage that I have no space left to even acknowledge, let alone tend to, my own.

Yet, I was not planning for the night to unfold this way.

After a long day of in-person and virtual meetings in New York, I was back in my hotel room for a video appointment with my psychiatrist. She prodded a little more than usual into how I was doing. It made me uncomfortable, honestly. I am a person who wants to be a “good patient.”

Her:
“So, how’s everything been since we met last? I know you tend to take on a lot.”

Me:
“Oh, yeah, I’ve been good. Meds are working great. New job is hard, but you know, it’s fine.”
”Yep yep, still trying to workout 3 days a week. Eating pretty well…well, except for today, when my food consisted of a giant scone and a free cookie that was in my hotel room.”
”No, my sleep isn’t great, but I’m sure that’s just because of all the travel. It’ll settle down soon. It’s all just normal stuff!”

Of course, she knew I wasn’t telling her the whole story. So she kept pulling on the strings on of what I’ve been trying so hard to ignore, and eventually, it came fumbling out.

My nervous system is frequently overloaded.

I feel caught in the middle, much of the time. And not just at work, but at home, too, between my husband and my teenage daughter, who I think sometimes speak different languages.

I don’t walk on eggshells with my new CEOs, but it’s not because I’m not afraid that I’ll do something wrong — it’s because my heels are already so callused from previous experiences that even if there are eggshells underfoot, my skin is too thick for them to register.

And yet…despite all my ignoring and thick skin, I was triggered yesterday, anyway.

A Slack exchange filled with miscommunication, assumptions, defensiveness, and good-intentions-expressed-poorly (I still try to give folks the benefit of the doubt) made me feel as though my judgement and character were being questioned. It wasn’t an outward attack, like I’d experienced from my previous CEO. But regardless, some of those same feelings of fear and panic came rushing right back.

At first, I did what I’ve conditioned myself to do: shake them off.

I sat at my hotel room desk for a moment, composed my thoughts, responded in (what I hope was) a calm and logical way, acknowledged the complexity of the situation and concerns, and offered some alternate ideas and solutions.

I took a deep breath, bopped into my last Zoom meeting of the afternoon, chipper and ready to help.

I ate more of my free cookie.

I straightened my hair, re-did my makeup, and got ready to meet my team, and a few client partners, for a fancy-ish dinner of schmoozing and professional pretense.

But as I applied my eyeliner and stared at myself in the full-length mirror behind the bathroom door, everything in my body said NO.

NO, this is not what you need to be doing right now.
NO, this is not a good way to feel.
NO. Full stop. No.

I was on the edge of tears, entirely overwhelmed, and the only thing I wanted to do was curl-up in a ball and hide in my bed.

I have never missed a work event like this before, so I laughed-off the urge as silly. Frivolous. “Everyone is expecting me to be there. Not going isn’t an option.”

And yet, I didn’t get dressed. I just sat at my desk, trying to figure out how to pull my shit together enough to be decent company, let alone to be the confident, leader-y persona I needed to be in front of my team, my boss, and my clients.

The answer was a really tough one: I couldn’t. And maybe more significantly, I didn’t want to try.

So, for the first time in my 21+ year career, instead of putting on my “big girl pants” and meeting everyone else’s needs…

I chose mine instead.

I texted my boss to tell him that I’m sorry, but I’m not going to make it to dinner.

I got into bed, put on a podcast, and spent far too long browsing GrubHub before ordering a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich from a diner next door.

I worked on a project that I hadn’t had time for earlier in the day. (Yes, it was work, but it was something that was important to ME.)

I took a gummy, floated on imaginary boats for the next few hours, and fell asleep hugging my pillow.

I chose me.

This morning, as I’m writing this, I have to be at another meeting in an hour. I have to get out of bed, take a shower, iron my dress, and put those “big girl pants” back on. I won’t lie and say that I’m looking forward to it, but I will say that I feel much more calm and regulated than I did twelve hours ago. I don’t think I’d be in the headspace for what’s ahead today if I hadn’t given myself the physical space last night.

I am proud of choosing me.

Maybe, now that I know the world won’t come to a halt, I can figure out how to do it more often.