Busy Bee.

It started earlier in February. 

Well, truthfully, it actually started before that, right after the New Year.  

The pace I mean. The hectic dive into both work (an immediate, exhausting trip out to San Diego for our national sales meeting the first week of January) and school (with just 24 hours at home after that week in CA, heading off to ten days in Ithaca to jump start our second semester.)

From there? Well, there's been no stopping.

I knew, when I decided to pursue a graduate degree at a pretty prestigious school while continuing to work full time (lets not forget the part about how I am now managing two discipline lists as one person, where there used to be two people on payroll for my job) that the work/life balance would be tough, that I'd be tired a lot, that I would have to be very careful with managing my time.  Sometimes I worry that I start to sound like a broken record; going on and on about how tired I am and how there's never enough time for anything and I'm stressed out and oh did I tell you about how tired I am yet?  I have moments where I almost want to tell my own self to shut up already because...yeah, Kel we know you're in school and working! We got it!  We heard you!  Goodness knows I am not the only person in the world who has a lot on their plate so why am I still talking about it?

And yet, it's where I am right now, these winter days of 2016, in my second semester, in my life.

Last week, I got up at 4am to catch a flight out to Milwaukee.  That was, if I had to pinpoint it, the beginning of the end.  Sure, I have been plenty tired before in my life.  Who hasn't?  But after this most recent week on the road, I returned home on Friday, in a state foreign even to most previously worn out self. 

My parents have always said that I hit a point where I need to stop, drop, and recharge my batteries.  I have been that way all of my life.  Used to be, that I would sneak off to my Dad's house for a weekend when I needed an escape.  He would call my visits my recharge retreat, letting me sleep until noon without comment.  These days, I (sigh) cannot even seem to find the days to get down to my NJ sanctuary.  And we all know I'm not the best at shutting myself away on my own.  (There's something about another human being around that makes me feel better about doing nothing.  I don't really know why that is, but it is.) 

But here it is, after my long winded essay on various states of exhaustion have been discussed ad nauseam. 

This is hard.


Right now, in my life, this is very, very hard.

I hate to complain and I feel sheepish even typing this post because oh my God, Kelli, just deal with it! We're all effing tired!

And yet, for me, the most difficult thing is that I don't even recognize myself in this state. 

I used to be so calm, so grounded, so reasonable with myself, with my time.

Where did that girl go? And how do I get her back?

Last week, I nearly had a meltdown over a stupid shopping bag.  Like, didn't even know who I was that I could get so annoyed and angry with a clerk the way that I did when she refused to give me a shopping bag.  (In my defense, she WAS being a bit of a moron and my company HAD just spent almost $1500 at her venue and yet she refused to give me a shopping bag to carry some of my items because I "hadn't bought anything".) STILL though.  On a normal day this would, yes, absolutely frustrate me, but I'd likely be able to pull a Tay Swift and shake it off much faster than I did on Thursday.

On Sunday, I only half-watched the Oscars.  Me.  The Academy Awards, my favorite night of television, and I just sat on the couch more annoyed at how long the show was running over than oohing and aahing over anyone's gowns or acceptance speeches.

And today, after I realized the replacement laptop battery charger I had ordered online was the wrong size (because of course I managed to lose the charger for my school laptop last week!) then hunted a "universal" one down at Best Buy only to find it was not, in fact, a "universal" charger because my computer will not "read" the charger, (WTF) I started texting my Mom in a panic.  I had found my tipping point. 

She called me.

I started crying.

She knew.  She said she could just tell from my texts that I was about to lose it.  (God, Moms are good like that aren't they?)  So I cried.  Mom listened.  I apologized for crying.  For complaining.
 Because I shouldn't have anything to complain about. I believe these are what they might call first world problems. Pursuing an Ivy League graduate degree while traveling and working? Oh you poor thing.

And yet.

Here I am.

When I hung up the phone with Mom, I texted her and thanked her for listening.

She wrote back, passing along some sage Mom advice.  Advice I know already in my head and my heart, advice I have actually GIVEN to my nearest and dearest myself. I suppose that that's the thing about advice. Sometimes, it just bears repeating. 

I wrote Mom's text down on a post-it note and stuck it to my bathroom mirror.  Deep breaths. You and me, Kel - my head and my heart - we are in this together.

(I'm rocking a great top knot though, huh?)