Monday, January 23, 2012

The Burnout

Up until eight months ago, I was "successful".  I graduated from a great school (UC Berkeley) in 1999 and proceeded into on a high-paying, stable career.  I was a high performer at work, ate a healthy pescatarian diet, enjoyed ladies nights with a close circle of friends, dated the "right" men, and worked out  4-5 times per week (including weight training to promote and maintain bone mass, of course).  I traveled up to 85% of the time for work, maintained a full social calendar, and continued to strive for the next great thing on my list of things I "had to" accomplish (i.e. an even more fabulous apartment in San Francisco, a promotion, more lean body mass).  Then, in November of 2010, I burned out.

One Sunday afternoon, as I sat watching "Elf", the floor dropped out from under me.  I suddenly felt as if I'd been hurled off the top of a roller coaster; my stomach lurched, my heart started pounding, and my extremities went numb.  I never even took Advil if I could avoid it, but I was so scared that I headed to the ER where I remember telling the nurse, "I'm so sorry to bother you, but I think I'm dying."  The hours I spent as the panic attack was diagnosed were the scariest of my life.  Every time the monitor changed color, I was sure it meant that my heart had stopped and I begged my boyfriend to fetch the doctor.  I sat helpless on the hospital bed bargaining for my life.  Some thoughts I remember having:

"None of what I've gotten myself so stressed out about (i.e. the salary, the "success") matters."
"I've wasted my time and I haven't helped anyone."
"What if one of my loved ones ends up like this without anyone there?"
"I'm not ready."
"I want one chance to eat pizza and to enjoy it without mentally punishing myself... and now I can't.  I wasted my life's pizza."

I attempted to return to my normal routine Monday morning, but I struggled with chest pain and other physical symptoms for months.  In June 2011, I quit my job and began the process of figuring out what to do next.  I was 34 and in full-fledged third-of-life crisis!



2 comments:

  1. Hi Alyssa!
    I hope you're feeling better now. I also felt better after reading this post. Indeed, misery loves company. Haha. I think success is always relative. Maybe it's not the goals we accomplish but the experiences we get while chasing after our dreams. I wish to read more from you.

    Jean

    ReplyDelete
  2. I can relate to this post! Check out my blog: http://onethirdoflife.wordpress.com/

    ReplyDelete