My brain has reached maximum capacity.
I have so many important things crammed in my head that I’m starting to lose bits and pieces of important details.
Such as deadlines.
Moving the wet clothes from the washer to the dryer.
The list goes on.
I read once that women are better at multi-tasking but the cost of being able to juggle multiple things at once means that we cannot give our full attention to any one thing.
I feel that in my soul.
Currently, I have two back-to-back novels to finish with excruciatingly close deadlines, a new advertising campaign to oversee, contracts to sign, graphic design clients waiting in queue, a book signing event, sporting events to attend, multiple projects with the newspaper in various stages of completion in addition to the regular assignments I do each week, and sandwiched between all of that, the people in my house expect there to be food in the fridge and toilet paper in the bathroom at all times.
I’m going to get real with you — at the end of the day, I don’t have much more to give.
There’s simply no more room for anything. Even the thought of showering seems like a lot right now. (Don’t worry; I drag my carcass to the shower even if I don’t want to.)
So when my editor asked me what my column was about this week, the expletive that popped from my mouth with the realization that I’d completely spaced this week’s topic was immediate and sincere.
To be honest, I’m stretched to the max but as I started to spiral into this black hole I realized, aren’t we all? I mean, isn’t everyone balancing their mental health on the edge of a razor these days?
As a GenXer I’m comfortable with a certain level of apathy and let-it-burn mentality but even I’m starting to stress over life lately.
Collectively, people are starting to suffer from compassion fatigue, mental exhaustion, and physical strain.
Let’s face it — we’re freaking tired.
We all need a vacation, or a quiet room, I’d take either at this point.
Tempers are short. We’re all one incident away from turning into rage monkeys barreling down the highway in two-ton killing machines, screeching at the top of our lungs, “Nice blinker, jerk-face!” as we call for the complete and total annihilation of the offender’s immediate kin.
I mean, whoa.
We need to take a breath. Smell the roses. Let things go.
Because at the end of the day, we’re blessed to have the privilege to complain but we need to take better care of ourselves.
Life isn’t about living to work.
It’s about tacos.
Let’s get it right, people.
Kim Van Meter is a former full-time reporter for The Oakdale Leader, The Escalon Times and The Riverbank News; she continues to provide occasional columns.