One night recently, as I tried to fall asleep, I started thinking about my so-far disastrous health journey this year. By the numbers: I have been sick three times in four weeks.
Yes, three freaking times in four weeks.
First the cold. Then the sinus infection. I had exactly four days of feeling on top of world – and then I got food poisoning. I won’t go into the nasty details (which were bad enough the first time around). Suffice it to say that on that long first night, I ended up changing clothes and cleaning the bathroom – twice. Just what I wanted to do when I was praying at the porcelain god.
At first, I was afraid I was going to die. Then I was afraid I wouldn’t. I hope I never go through that again.
Four healthy days in 30 is a personal “best,” although I use the term loosely. I generally don’t get sick at all. Maybe I’ll get a cold every 3-4 years, but rarely is it anything serious enough to require doctor visits or prescription drugs.
This year, clearly, is different. Why?
A lot of it has to do with the stress of my mom’s final days, her funeral, flying more than 6,000 miles in an aluminum tube with a thousand people of questionable health, getting stuck for 34 @!&*# hours in Dallas-Fort Worth, below-zero temperatures, blah blah blah.
Going from a cold to a sinus infection seemed like a natural if regrettable progression. But the food poisoning on top of it, out of nowhere? As I lay there, watching the ceiling fan’s blades spin overhead, I wondered what the hell was going on. A nagging voice insisted that the confluence of events was merely what was floating on the top, that I needed to do a deeper dive. So instead of looking at the causes (because who really knows, right?), I decided to look at the result:
I stopped.
Damn near all-the-way-to-zero stopped, for days at a time. Those days when I forced myself, I managed just a couple of hours of “go” before I quit.
When is it time to stop?
Bam! Bam! Bam! How many times do I have to bang my head into a brick wall before I pay attention? Three apparently is the magic number.
I decided to slow down – before my body forced me to (again). To think more before I act. To stop rushing. To make sure everything I do is meaningful and takes me to where I want to be. Satisfied with that answer, I finally drifted off.
A week later, my recovery from the food poisoning has been slower than I would like. In a way, that’s a good thing. It’s like a sea anchor, stabilizing my life during heavy weather, keeping my head pointing in the right direction.
These last four weeks (may they never be repeated!) have not just forced me to rest and take better care of myself. They have sharpened my focus considerably: Where am I headed? Is that where I really want to go? Why am I doing what I’m doing? Is it the most important thing I can be doing? Is it taking me in the direction I want to go? What needs to change?
Because I’m thinking more, instead of blindly doing, I am completing better, more meaningful work although in terms of quantity, it seems like less. I don’t beat myself up for being “unproductive.” I’ve stopped pressuring myself to be busy all the time. I tell myself, “You’re doing exactly what you need to be doing right now.”
As Henry David Thoreau said, “It’s not enough to be busy, so are the ants. The question is, what are we busy about?”
Six questions to ask yourself
So I will ask you the same questions I’ve asked myself:
- Where are you headed?
- Is that where you really want to go?
- Why are you doing what you’re doing?
- Is it the most important thing you can be doing?
- Is it taking you in the direction you want to go?
- What needs to change?
How do you know when it’s time to slow down? Please share your answer in the comments.