I waited all day to get a green light to go to work this evening. And when I got it, I went a little nuts. I researched every piece of information I thought I might need, I called and left messages all over the place, I worked out schedules and plans. And then, the boss called me and slowed me way down. He reminded me not to let this become a 24 hour a day job. He said he doesn't allow work to take away all of his weekends. I shouldn't necessarily expect listing agents to call me back on Sunday evenings, and I shouldn't necessarily run myself into the ground working at times when no one else is. I need to put some boundaries in between my work and home life. Wise words on deaf ears. I've never been very good at figuring out where to draw the line.
Many times over the years I took on part time jobs. Few of them ever stayed part time. And my full time jobs involved a lot of overtime, usually unpaid. I have a hard time saying no when someone assigns me a task, especially when I'm being paid to do it. I always want to add in more and more hours every week. When I was younger and stronger, maybe this was not always a horrible habit to have, but it has caused me many levels of heartache over time. When I was pregnant the second time around, I was working as an independent contractor for a publishing house, and typically spending between 50 and 55 hours a week there. I ran myself ragged, and when the baby was born and I made myself go back in to work full time three short weeks after a very complicated birth, I paid for it with years of bad health. I didn't know at the time that it was a lupus flare. I just knew that I was always sick, always hurting, and always tired. My mental faculties suffered greatly as well. My mind was less flexible during those overworked flare times. I repeated this pattern (but without the birth and subsequent trauma) at multiple jobs. I came home exhausted and cranky and I lashed out at my family in the most inappropriate of ways. I ceased being able to roll with the punches, and I had no idea how important it was to slow down and take care of myself when I was so tired. For that matter, I had no concept that I was even allowed to do so. I didn't think I had the right to expect to rest once in a while.
I'm a little torn with how to address it all, knowing what I know now. I have to take care of myself. I don't have any excuses not to do it now that I have been diagnosed and I know what the direct implications of overwork are. I don't have the strength to do it anymore anyway. I get winded and dizzy at the dumbest things. Climbing stairs or walking in from the car can be challenging at certain times. So I know overwork is bad. But I have to pay my dues in this business, or I will never get anywhere. And as a real estate ingenue, I don't know that I can demand weekends off. I don't have a regular 9-5 kind of job. I need to work when it comes in, especially since it doesn't present itself every day. I don't know where to draw the lines. I'm not even sure which hand is holding the pen to start drawing them. Am I allowed to set these sorts of boundaries already?
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