Work Life Balance

You know you're overworked when:

1. Your son bursts into tears and tells you how much he misses you -- and you live with him
2. You meet a friend for a quick salad/glass of chardonnay at a restaurant in your hometown -- and you feel like you're on vacation 

Flickr image from John Lam

California Stars

Customer satisfaction survey data tabulation. Net promoter scores. Employee focus group facilitation. Screening job candidates. Travel. Email newsletters. Secondary industry research. Market size. Growth rates. Testimonial ad campaigns. Outbound telemarketing vendor sourcing. Competitive analysis. Expense reports. Financial trends across business units.

Not complaining. Just need a nap. And more hours in the day.

I'd like to rest my heavy head tonight
On a bed of California stars
I'd like to lay my weary bones tonight
On a bed of California stars

Ageless Beauty

According to a recently published study revealing the secrets* to looking younger, I'm hosed.

Bad news: Sun, smoking, alcohol and stress can add years to your face

Good news: Additional weight fills in and softens wrinkles

As a stressed out, cocktail imbibing, ex-smoker with a strong proclivity toward sunny beaches and/or hammocks, I'm not poised well. Once again, there goes my modeling career. However, as luck would have it, I can somewhat offset the effects of aging simply by continuing to overeat. Yay!

Bring on the cupcakes!

*Are any of these illuminating research findings really a surprise?

Mini-weekend: Day 18

Spent Tuesday afternoon with my neighborhood girlfriends and all of our kids on the Sam Patch. Son #1 was beside himself with anger.

Son #1: I don't like to learn during the summer. I never wanted to go on this boat. What part of this remotely sounded like fun to you?

Me: We're outside, in the sunshine, with friends. That's fun to me. And we're experiencing the canal firsthand, rising up and down as they fill and drain the locks. It's cool to see from the water instead of the shore.

Son #1 was not convinced and spent the entire ride inside looking out the window.

Yesterday was spent in a wave of appointments including taking Son #1 to the acupuncturist to treat his Tourette's. When home, the vinyl siding dudes were pounding on the house. No respite. I felt like I needed a vacation from my vacation.

In the car on the way to my hair appointment, I heard the latest Cracker song that they performed while here a few weeks back. As I planned my escape, it suddenly became my new favorite song.

"Baby you need a break so lets just run away."

Cracker - Turn On Tune In Drop Out
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Weightlifting

My girlfriend Melanie just posed the following question to her Facebook community: if you're in therapy/counseling, what do you think makes a good therapist?

My answer (assuming quality is a given): shared values/a shared belief system and someone who doesn't put his or her own labels on what you're processing.

I was in counseling a few years ago when I thought my life was falling apart. In retrospect, I believe this woman contributed directly to my rapid decline. On my first visit, I made a comment about how I wasn't sure if I really wanted to engage in counseling. In response, she said "Believe me when I tell you that you need it. If I ran into you as a stranger at Wegman's, I would be able to tell by your body language how depressed you are."

I should have been appalled at her direct hit but instead I was shocked at myself. Really? I must be way worse off than I thought! So I went back.

A few months later, I was describing a watershed moment in my marriage that was a quantum, positive shift in my perspective. Instead of allowing me to claim my breakthrough as my own, she said, "Don't misread that emotion. You're not feeling love; you're feeling guilt." And down I went. Again.

This woman was divorced, "never been happier," and spent session after session extolling the virtues of freedom from baggage. She also weighed at least 250 pounds. Can happiness and freedom co-exist with excessive weight? Isn't that the proverbial cover that people hide beneath? Perhaps I'm reading too much into that.

The final straw came one day when I was sharing with her another turning point in my life. I had read Mark 4:35-40 when Jesus calms the storm and it hit me like a ton of bricks. The disciples were professional fishermen who were on rough seas all the time -- yet this storm was so huge that they were freaking out. They thought they were going to die. Somehow, through all of that, Jesus was sound asleep at the stern. How is that possible? Worse yet, doesn't he care?? When they finally woke him up, he said "Peace, be still" and the water became completely calm.

That rapid shift must have been even more shocking to them because then, as the verses say, they were even more terrified. Dead calm after life-threatening seas. What the . . . ?

For me, it was just the antidote I needed. Yeah, my life was out of control. My work, at the time, was on major overload. But more importantly, if I claim to be a believer, isn't Jesus on my boat? I may feel like he's asleep but I'm not going to capsize. I am not going to capsize.

I felt a huge weight lifting.

When I recounted this life-altering insight with my then-therapist (on what was to be our last session), she responded slowly in a serious tone, "The difference between you and that parable is that you're on your boat alone and no one is helping."

What? Wait . . . what?? So I have no God? And no family that supports me? No friends who love me?

Man, have I been a patsy or what?

Mini-washout: haikus

mini-weekend thwart
heaps of data analyzed
workday almost done

eighty-eight worksheets
performance v. importance
gap analysis

revenue decline
profitability down
op costs sloping up

count if cell not blank
vlookup tables galore
i've become a bore

Under Pressure

I snuck away from my desk for an hour this a.m. to see my massage therapist. I went on a whim to see him for the first time maybe six months ago because I had an afternoon free and he had a cancellation. Nothing wrong, per se, just stressed and in need of a massage. I've been back a few more times for the same pseudo-reason. More indulgence than medical. Or more mentally restorative than physically therapeutic.

Today, different story. I've had what I thought was a pinched nerve in my upper back. I've also been unable to breathe for a few weeks due to my "chest pains" which I attributed to stress. Apparently, they're both related with one compensating for the other. The primary back/shoulder issue is what he called "anterior scapular rotation." (Or something like that!)

So instead of a full massage, he focused on applying pressure to specific areas affecting my range of motion and ability to breathe. All upper body: chest, ribs, neck, shoulder blades, upper back. Long, burning pressure combined with slow arm movement until the fire subsided. New area, one cm away, repeat. Wash, rinse, repeat.

I'm probably going to be pretty darned sore tonight but I'll tell you one thing: I can already take a deep breath. Cannot wait to be back to "normal." There's a light at the end of the tunnel.

Woman on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown

Much of Saturday was spent in an ongoing cycle of "he said that I have the worst memory," "he called me stupid," "he stepped on my foot," "he's annoying me" and on and on and on. The only respite from the constant stream of fights and telling on each other was when I sat between the two kids during Monsters vs. Aliens 3D. Instead, I had to fight my anxiety over Son #1's constant flow of verbal beeping throughout the movie which I'm convinced is Tourette's given that he also has a million other ticks that go along with it. We'll leave that diagnosis to the professionals. I'm hoping I'm wrong.

Yesterday in church, the two kids were fighting over who got to snuggle with me and pushing each other off my lap. Son #1 cleared his throat approximately 700 times. When church ended and I was in the Fellowship Hall having (rather attempting to have) a latte with Meg, Son #1 tried to keep Son #2 away from me by putting his arms around me and, in the process, spilling piping hot coffee all over my hand. I started to say, "God D -" and stopped myself not nearly in time. It hurt like hell and my hand immediately turned bright red. An older gentleman in a suit came over with a napkin and I quickly recovered. About two minutes later, Son #2 came over, shook my hand to get my attention and said, "mama, mama, mama, mama, he just said . . . " and the remainder of the latte spilled all over my other hand, arm, pants, floor. I was fit to be tied. I threw the empty cup out and stormed out of church. We are NOT, I repeat, NOT going to Maggie Moos today.

I made them ride home in silence. When Son #1 spoke up and said, "well, none of this would have happened if you didn't have coffee with Mrs. J." I freaked and let a blood curdling scream out. "That's enough. Your rude behavior is not MY fault." I continued with a thick, loud stream of "I'm sick of your fighting, I'm sick of fighting with you every week to go to church, I'm sick of . . . " (Note: That should make them want to go to church now, right?)

My heart was pounding. My blood was boiling. The kids were crying. And I thought, "I'm taking my stress out on them." I've been having chest pains for two weeks and now I thought my heart was going to explode right out of my chest cavity.

Instead of going home, I drove to Tinker Park and said, "We're going to go for a walk in the woods and you're going to focus on the things you love about each other. We're not leaving until each of you comes up with 10 things that you genuinely love about your brother." We walked in silence until Son #2 piped up, "I love it when he lets me play with him." Good start. Followed by much continued silence.

They could each only come up with three things. Not one was compelling.

We walked past a half dozen deer along the trail who did not even glance in our direction. We stopped and listened to the bull frogs. And we walked the labyrinth which has meditation stones placed throughout with words such as "obedience," "reverence," and "honesty." When we got to the center stone, I made us hold hands in a circle and I prayed that we could open our hearts and be more loving. I reiterated (as I've been saying for weeks now) that the world is a difficult place where people can be cruel; our family should be a place of respite from all of that (not a place of stress). We need to bolster one another -- not tear each other down. I apologized for my primal scream and I told them a million things that I loved about both of them.

Can we go home now? Yes, and I'm checking myself into the psych ward STAT.

Mini-weekend: Day 10

Wow, ten weeks and going . . . well, strong might not be the right word. But going nonetheless.

Today, I spent over two hours at the Elizabeth Wende Breast Clinic. I have to say, if you need to spend so much time in a lounge awaiting test results from a fairly painful squish-your-boobs-into-pancakes set of exams, this is the place to do so. Nice, white cotton robes. Fireplace. O Magazine. Big tank of tropical fish. Hot teas. Back massages. If I didn't know any better, it would have felt like a few hours at the spa.

I followed it up with a trip to my chiropracter -- who I love, love, love. He's a professional miracle worker and also very interesting, motivational, spiritual, compassionate, funny, intellectual, musical, etc. One time, I was walking out and I said to his wife Dawn, who was working the front desk, "I love your husband." She replied, "Yeah, you and about a million others. Get in line!" We both cracked up.

Today, in the waiting room, a business man walked in who was worried about missing his flight. I offered to switch appointments with him since I was in no hurry as it was my day off. He gratefully accepted, asked where I worked and (of course) knew my boss. Small world. Small town. Small favor. Hope he made it to the airport on time.

Lastly, I had the pleasure of meeting with a furnace sales rep. I didn't realize how much I needed a new furnace. Now my wardrobe is complete. What's another $3K in this money pit? When I went to sit with my new friend Alan at Chase, he shared horror stories with me of clients who have $100K in credit card debt. I rarely take pleasure in others' misfortunes but it did help me to put my situation in better light. New furnace, new front porch, new siding, new windows, new countertops: not optimal but at least it's not being spent on crack whores.

We'll have to win the lottery to afford that kind of luxury.

Beast of Burden

Matthew 11:25-30, "For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

Like an ox that doesn't realize there is a stream at the end of the trail, I cannot see where God is leading me so I'm stubbornly holding myself in a bad place. And I am having a hard time remembering that God is carrying the yoke with (or rather for) me. I have to keep repeating that phrase from Matthew today to remind myself that life is only truly unbearable if I do not believe that God can refresh me, replenish my soul and lead me beside still waters.

Now to find a green pasture in which to lie down.

Light at the End of the Tunnel

I have a client who typically says at the end of his presentations, "I'm the only thing standing between you and happy hour . . . with that said, does anyone have any questions?"

Today I have to attend a meeting on a sales commission structure that we developed for a manufacturing client, write a terms & conditions document for a new business venture, develop one side-by-side comparison of a boutique client v. their nationwide competitor for a sales pitch, review/edit an RFQ for a website redesign, complete some remaining secondary market research for a client presentation, attend a client meeting to review a software application they're considering, pull together some interview questions to kick-off two strategic planning projects and have a conference call regarding a contract we wrote months ago to support a fledgling business partnership . . .

These are the only things standing between me and my four day weekend in NYC! Yippee!

Hold on to that Feelin'

From my co-worker Scott who is leaving me for greener pastures . . .



(Taken on his cell phone in the Park Ave. neighborhood.)

Riddle Me This

Q: What happens when you're too tired to carry your laptop home even though you have heaps o' work to do?

A: Why you freak out, shower and come to work at 3:30 a.m., silly.

Isn't that what everyone does?

In God We Trust

In the sermon at church yesterday, our children's minister made the connection between the "fear" everyone is feeling during the current economic crisis (yes, Governor Palin, I was listening) and our collective inability to trust in the Lord completely.

"No one can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth. For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they?" (Matthew 6:24-26)

He went on to comment on how "In God We Trust" on our currency is more than just outdated lip service to our nation's motto (I'm paraphrasing but you get the point). It's a constant reminder that we need to put our faith in the Lord and, as a result, we'll be less anxious. In other words, no matter what happens, God's got our back.

"So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself."

This sermon came right on the heels -- pun intended -- of a week-long search for the perfect dress and shoes for my girlfriend Kim's wedding! Never mind the wallet when you can wear Calvin Klein's finest six-inch heels this side of the Bowery. (Note: These looked ridiculous so I put them on for a joke. Joke was on me; they're cute as can be. I'm just not sure I can walk.)

Never to be worn again unless the economy takes me to flophouse ruin? Then I'll be adequately prepared for the oldest profession in the world. Well, at least my feet will be . . .

Snow White

While I don't have a New Year's resolution, per se, I joined Weight Watchers yesterday to take off the 15 pounds I gained over the last two years. I also began taking my vitamins again and added, per my acupuncturist's request, TwinLab's Cod Liver Oil with Mint which she claimed was like a tablespoon of whipped dessert but I think tastes, oddly enough, like cod liver oil with mint. This in combo with my DDR "workout," should leave me feeling less stressed and on top of my game once again.

So cheers to 2008 being the year where little birds sing at my shoulders and bunnies come to rest at my feet. Where the sun is always shining and my step is light and breezy.

And my fingers jump for joy at the sound of my keyboard gloriously typing business and marketing plans . . . or, better yet, a money tree begins to grow in my yard and bear fruit.

Yep, this'll be the year.

Greetings from Delray Beach

Growing up, we were not encouraged to relax. "Don't just watch TV; fold some laundry while you're sitting there." It was truly decadent when we went up the stairs without carrying something that needed to go up.

Today, it's hard for me to simply go on vacation without feeling pangs of insecurity. As much as I love lounging in the sun, reading books, swimming in the ocean (which is, by the way, the perfect temp right now) and pretty much doing nothing, I feel guilty. Not that it stops me from doing it; it just stops me from fully enjoying it.

Yesterday, I noticed that I was practically levitating while I was on the beach. My body was so taut that it wasn't even sinking into the sand. I physically had to keep relaxing my body: one part at a time.

When my girlfriend told me that it might rain tomorrow, my initial thought was, "That would be kind of cool because I have a company valuation that I need to complete before Monday." And, yes, with only a small carry on to my name, I still brought the financials with me. No need to pack cute clothes when I can carry work with me.

The worst part is that I offered to cancel my trip last minute if my boss would pay the cancellation fee. Why? Because I think I need to drop dead first before I am entitled to a vacation. This was offered even after my acupuncturist told me last week that she could barely find a pulse and my vital signs were worse than in all the years she's known me.

So here's my prayer for continued sunshine tomorrow. A work-free day filled with solitude and gratitude.

Lucky Me!

My boss just came into my office beaming, "In the 15 years that we've been in business, we've never been this busy!"

Paycheck aside, I have only one thing to say: Jane, stop this crazy thing!