Ado Annie

Inspirational song: I Cain't Say No (Oklahoma)

For most of my life, at least since my teens and definitely since I became an adult, I was incapable of saying no. I don't mean that in the strictest literal sense, but in the sense that if someone had a project or a favor, no matter how busy I was, or how little interest I had in taking it on, I would agree to help, spearhead, or completely accomplish anyone's request. I frequently failed to complete all of the quests, when they were beyond the scope of my talents or when my workload absolutely wouldn't allow me to do what needed doing. I always said I'd run the newsletter or plan the party or make the costumes or drive the carpool or stay late to clean or collect all the money or, or, or... Some of these things gave me useful life skills that I'm still employing to this day. I'm rather proud of many of the projects I completed and organizations I ran or helped run as an executive board member or committee chair. The time I donated has been invested in rewarding endeavors and I am pleased to have been able to contribute.

But.

I have overworked myself. I have felt the flood of stress hormones gush into my bloodstream, creating the sensation of literally being punched in the face. (Does this happen to anyone else? When you're overtired and overstressed, and someone comes up with something you can't escape, do you feel the agony smash you in the face all over, like diving face first into a pool of jam that hurts?) This year, the Rotary peach sales were easier than last year. We had one day, and I was only there from about 10 am to 2 pm. Last year was 3 hard days of selling. In both occasions, I avoided the sun as much as possible. The distribution of peaches this year was this past Saturday, and on Sunday I felt horrible. I ached everywhere, I felt nauseated, I was moody and wanted to cry like a child. I recognized it as overexposure to the sun, and I stayed inside and rested. It's one of the few times I could directly tie the result (feeling cranky and sore) to the cause (standing for four hours on asphalt, with reflected sunlight), and was able to immediately address the problem. More often, I keep working, keep taking pain killers, drink, cry, fall behind, hide from my responsibilities, or avoid phone calls and emails so I don't have to admit I've overcommitted again.

Until today.

I am not saying that I've cured myself completely. But today I made a first step. A very nice Rotarian, one of the first people I met when I joined, asked me whether I'd like to be on a steering committee. I really don't even remember what it was he asked me to participate in. I found myself saying very politely that I am stretched very thin, and while I am very flattered that he came to me and asked me to do more good works, I could not take on anything new at this time. I felt so grown up saying that, and I knew at once it was the right answer. No isn't an insult. Sometimes it's just no.

I have been thinking for almost two weeks that I need to tell my managing broker and our volunteer coordinator that I don't think I should attempt to create my own volunteer project this year, because of the same level of overcommitment. They stopped making the projects mandatory, but I had intended to put one together all the same. If I do anything, it will probably be very small, like a "make fleece blankets for the homeless" level project. Until I clear out some of the big things I'm working on, even that seems overwhelming. Until today, I wasn't sure I had the backbone to admit to not being up for a project. Maybe now I can say no after all.