Tagged: Stress

Dec 10

How My Notebook Saved My Sanity

Lately I’ve been feeling swamped with work. While the Summer found me struggling to make ends meet, the new season brought with it a different type of windfall. This is exciting for sure, considering that just under a year ago, I left my full-time gig as a staff editor at Entrepreneur magazine in favor of launching into the deep pool of freelance entrepreneurship and already I’ve secured contracts for enough revenue to replace my editor’s salary.

But I want more. To go beyond replacing my previous salary and the feeling that I am constantly working.

It was easy to exercise regularly and maintain a strict eight-to-four, no working-on-weekends schedule when business I was mostly prospecting and negotiating. Now that the fruits of that labor have come in, I’m struggling to find balance between work and life — the main reason I chose the freelance path to begin with.

So I begin looking into project management systems and productivity tools. But these usually add another step, something else that I have to factor into my workload, and ultimately the return is just another time suck.

And then I started just writing things in a notebook. After so many years of writing for the internet, including this here blog that doubles as my personal journal, I had gotten away from physically writing things down. The trouble with this was that my dependence on a computer or some other form of technology left gaps in my ability to simply jot down notes, reminders and ideas. When I started writing things down, I was able to unpack all of those thoughts and have something to reference in the future.

I started using my notebook to sketch out editorial plans and calendars, to outline proposals and jot down project ideas. The result of this mind-mapping strategy is that the ideas and plans are nearly completely formulated by the time I sit down to translate them into working documents, whatever form those documents may take. Where before I kept a running list in my head, now I write to-do lists for the day in my notebook and feel accomplished by the end of the day when I have crossed most of the items off.

After just a week of doing this, I can tell I’m going to need another notebook. But most importantly, my brain feels less cluttered and I am feeling less overwhelmed.

How’s that for a back-to-basics solution to my productivity problem? I wonder how many others out there find that the are able to organize their thoughts, and manage time and energy better by simply writing things down?

Image © Daehyun Park

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Jul 20

Is Summer Over Yet?

When I was a kid Summer vacation meant long leisure days of fun in the sun. Swimming all day, running around the park in my swim suit, a trip to the water park and Magic Mountain. It was a beautiful time.

As an freelance entrepreneur and mother, its a different story. I rather dread the Summers because now I have to figure out how to keep the kids occupied without having to spend hundreds of dollars to send them to day camp. They have all the Summer fun, but I’m frustrated because my work space has been invaded and in order to get anything done, I have to go to the coffee shop or spend the entire day in my room.

And I hate it.

Don’t get me wrong, there are some things to enjoy about the Summer, the most important of which is that the boys are together. But that means brotherly fights, refereeing those fights, and really being challenged as a parent. On top of it all, my teenage brother usually comes to visit and the fact that food seems to go SO fast.

Put it all together and you have a recipe for one stressed out work-from-home-mama. Especially when I come out of my room and the kitchen is piled up with dishes and there’s flour everywhere from some stupid “flour fight.” (I know ridiculous, but they did at least try to clean it up).

I’m over the whole Summer thing (except for the weather) and ready for the kids to go back to school.

Can I get a witness?

Image © AshleyCampbell Photography

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Feb 19

Pushing past fear lesson 1: Stand up for yourself

Earlier this week I talked about pushing past fear…well this week I got past one major fear which was not taking any more shit at work.

No…no…contrary to popular belief, one need not be a bitch when deciding not to take any shit (though I did snap at someone; don’t worry I apologized). Rather it means standing up for yourself when you know you deserve more. When one door is slammed in your face, you just find another one to pry open.

I’m being a little dramatic but it was truly a challenging week. If you follow me on twitter, you probably saw my very unhappy tweets that probably seemed completely out of character…

Stress does strange things to a sistah, what can I say?

Without going into details about what was going on, let’s just say that I was able to circumvent one obstacle and find someone willing to help me find a workable solution to my problem. The truth is that I’m not worried, whatever will be will be and I’ll not be a passive observer in that process.

Here’s to not being passive in my own life!

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Jan 08

Today Was a Stressful Day

Today was one of those days. Not the kind you know you’re going to hate. Nor was it the kind of day you hope for at the end of the week.

It started out alright. I had a nice talk with a business consultant and got to the office early. The was a deadline looming and I was hoping I could knock it out and go home early to be with my boys. I was fooling myself. This project was massive and there were lots of tricky things in the preparation.

The project dragged on forever. I worked through lunch, and walked into the house to see my kitchen spilling over with dishes. I needed to get dinner on and help the kid with his science project before sending him home on Sunday.

I may have just left work but I was still working. I just wanted to sit down.

But I couldn’t.

The kid offered to wash the dishes but gave up after only completed half. So set him to work on his science project while I got dinner on. It’s just that he needed help. I didn’t have any notebook paper and he was having trouble organizing his report.

So I had to sit down and walk him through it, while he complained about being hungry. We did however work through his whining to get his assignment done, I got dinner on, cleaned the kitchen and by the end of it I was in a crappy mood.

And I forgot to do my baby step for the day. *sigh*

Oh well. Tomorrow’s another day.

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Feb 06

And What Am I Supposed to do From an Hour Away?

Sometimes I really miss working from home…for a number of reasons. One of those reasons was being able to take care of daily things for the kids and still work full-time. That benefit is that when something goes wrong, I get a call from a teacher…I can handle it. Case closed.

Not so easy working and hour from home. Especially when you child kicks another in the back and the principal tells you that your kid needs to be picked up right away.

There was of course the initial shock of hearing that my child did something so ridiculous, then my brain went WTF! Who…can I call to pick this boy up?

I stammered, “I’m in Irvine…” sort of thinking out loud.

“Oh,” said the principal. “You’re at work…?” He read me the people on the emergency card. “Can any of these people come get him.”

“No…” The wheels were still turning. I knew my sister was still at the house, but she didn’t have a phone. I could call the neighbor girl babysitter to let my sister know I needed the boy picked up right away. I told the principal my sister would be there as soon as possible.

I made the call and I guess I didn’t express the urgent nature of the situation because when I called back 20 minutes later, neighbor girl hadn’t even gone to tell my sister anything…She was all “Oh I was just heading…” And What the hell?!

Through grit teeth as polite as I could muster, I told her the boy was waiting at the back gate and it was very important that someone pick the boy up immediately. At this point I didn’t care which one of them did it; the sister, the neighbor girl…There wasn’t time for relaying messages and shit like that when some coachee is standing at the gate with your kid.

Neighbor girl assured me she’d go pick him up right away. I thanked her, took a deep breath and went to a meeting. Cut to an hour later, I have multiple missed calls on my cell, from both the school and the neighbor girl.

Are you freaking kidding me?! Seriously?

She still hadn’t picked up the boy, hadn’t gone to tell the sister that he needed to be picked up…hadn’t done a thing. Said some shit about not knowing which gate to go to…It was all screwy and bottom line was that the boy was staying at school.

After work and happy hour with other editors, I called the neighbor girl in response to a text message saying she wanted to talk. She vomited her frustration into my ear asked for her pay for the week and hung up. I called back and tried to talk to her but she decided she was busy and I told her I’d talk to her later.

I almost didn’t talk to her. I almost just let it go and vented to my sisters my own frustrations. Had I not come home to hear that I had apparently cursed the neighbor girl out. Now I might have sounded short and stressed out, but sometimes things are just urgent. However, I was at work and I know for a fact that I did not use any profanity in any of those phone calls.

So just to clear the air and make sure the neighbor girl knew that I was a real bitch, I knocked on her door and asked her why she was telling people I cursed her out. Of course she back-peddled. I’m grown, she’s a 17-year-old who thought she was grown. There was no intimidation mind you, just a conversation about what really happened. An apology from me for being short with her on the phone, but it was important and she just didn’t seem to get it.

I saw her roll her eyes when I started to lecture, so I stopped.

“Anyway,” I said cutting myself off. “I just wanted to get everything out in the open so we could be done with it. No love lost…” I saw her crack a little bit of a smile. I smiled back, “Can I have a hug?”

We hugged and I told her to take her skinny ass in the house before she caught her death of cold.

Phew! And can you believe that there was more crap that fell on me today?

I’m tired…

Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.

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Dec 23

Why Can’t They Just be Happy?!

I was going to write something heart warming about my son being home for the holidays. I’ve missed him so and I just wanted to be positive about the whole thing. It sucks wasting precious time on negative energy…but dammit, this visit is much harder than I anticipated.

I wanted us to spend time together laughing and cherishing the few moments we have…He’s only going to be here until the 31, not even two full weeks. Instead I’ve been mediating silly misunderstandings between the boys, which I suppose is normal, but I just wanted them to hang out, have fun and love each other.

Well…when I walked in from work today, my sister was yelling at the boys about roughhousing too much. They had spent what little dry part of the day outside but were still bubbling over with energy and she wasn’t having it. Apparently they had been wrestling and doing what boys do. The problem is that the little one couldn’t really hang and kept getting hurt…which is precisely why I hate that sort of play in the first place.

After I dealt with the initial drama I thought everything would be cool. The boys went into their room to play and were fine for a while until I hear the E yell “I’m sorry B! I’m sorry!” Then dramatic sobbing.

Dammit! What now?!

Breathe…breathe…

E was sitting on his bed still boo-hooing. I resisted the urge to grumble inwardly as I walked over to the bed, hearing B’s voice but not being able to figure out where he was.

“He’s under the bed mom,” E said.

“What’s wrong now?” Unfortunately my exasperation came through and the water works on E were going again. “What’s going on?”

E squealed something about B being mad at because he’d accidentally hurt B’s finger… sobbing

B interjected, “But I’m not mad. It’s just… indecipherable sobbing

What the hell?!

“Come from under there, and both of you…stop crying,” my voice was getting louder, but I didn’t want to yell. They were hysterical and needed me to be calm. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

B: He hurt my finger, but it was an accident and he keeps saying I’m mad…and I’m not,” he squeaked the end as he held back the tears; lip quivering.

E: I said sorry, but he’s still mad at me sobbing

“He said he’s not mad,” I snapped. “How frustrating it must be that you insist he is mad, when he keeps telling you he’s not.”

B: This is why I play alone! Every time I play with someone they get hurt! huge dramatic sob

I felt like I was in some sort of warped universe. I had no idea what was going on. B obviously wasn’t talking about his finger being hurt and E was just upset because he thought he had hurt his brother. B kept saying, “I’m not used to playing with other people,” and my heart was breaking because all I wanted them to do is play and enjoy each other’s company.

Me: You have to be able to play with your brother-

B: But I can’t play with him because he’s just going to get hurt…

M: Stop focusing on something that’s over and move on to the next thing…

‘Round and round we went, until I just held them both close to me, shushing them. “Stop, stop, stop.”

Finally B pulled away and said “I just need a few minutes alone.”

“Ok,” I stood up and reached out for E’s hand. “But B, don’t wallow. Use this time to calm yourself down. I’ll check on you in a bit.”

I didn’t have time to go back to check on him before he came into my room, where E and I were slightly distressed about not being able to console B.

B: Can I talk to mom alone please?

E gave his brother a hug and smiles as he closes the door behind him.

B: You know how I was telling you that I’m used to playing alone? (I nod ) Well it’s because I don’t have any friends…the kids, they all make fun of me…”

So now we get to the root of the issue; he’s an outcast. Well, not much you can do about that other than develop thick skin and sharp wit with which to confuse any potential bullies. I told him that I understood and that he would have to be real strong. Let them hate, because people who pick on others only do it to feel better about themselves.

We had a nice long talk, followed by a group hug. We ate dinner, read a bed time story and now I’m exhausted.

Add to all of this that I forgot something really important for my mother, which I don’t even have the energy to get into…

All in all, an emotionally draining, shitty evening. sigh

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Dec 10

Conference + Bum Knee = A Hard Damn Day

You all know by now that I’m hard on myself. I hate being sick, I hate not being able to do things…I am the Modern Super Human Earth Mother after all; obstacles be damned!

Well, sometimes it just isn’t that simple.

My knee collapsed as I was walking into the grocery store last Thursday. It hurt a little but I didn’t fall or anything, so kept it moving. The next day I was walking with a limp and my knee was definitely swollen. Saturday morning, I put my feet on the floor to take my morning pee and nearly fell; something was definitely wrong with my knee.

I spent the next couple of days laid up in the bed and on Monday I went to the Dr, where I was told that my joints looked good, there were no broken bones…my knee was just swollen and inflamed because it wanted to be. Oh, that’s just lovely. rolls eyes

The next day I was scheduled to work a conference. In hind sight, I probably should have asked if I could be excused from the conference and just gone into the office. Being the super woman I am, I was determined that I could handle this event.

And I probably could have if Murphy hadn’t been so set on kicking my ass.

When I arrived at the venue, the parking directly underneath was blocked off and I was directed to a structure nearly three blocks away. I parked and slowly began walking to back towards the entrance, all the while racking my brain trying to remember if the Long Beach Convention Center had elevators. I had been to the convention center many, many times and couldn’t for the life of me remember ever seeing an elevator, so I began working my way up the first set of stairs I could find.

I made it up the first and second flights triumphantly, only to be daunted by two more; one with at least 15 steps. I sat at the bottom of the third set and took a couple deep breaths before painstakingly inching my way up. Going up stairs had never been so hard…I was sweating and exhausted and still had one more flight of stairs to conquer.

Panting I stood there looking at the final set of stairs, my brain fighting itself…

You can do this…Shit I’m tired…Just one more flight and you’re there…This shit is so hard…You can do it!

I stood there for a few minutes trying to hold back the tears but I was feeling broken and the dam had reached its limit. The tears mixed with the sweat as I looked up the stairs feeling defeated. Folks began offering empathetic comments as they passed me on their way up the stairs.

“Well that hardly seems fair,” on guy remarked noting that the venue should have had an elevator.

“Do you need help,” said one woman, stopping to rub my back. I was simultaneously comforted and embarrassed.

“I think I’ll make it,” I said avoiding her eyes. “Its just so hard…”

She found my gaze, looking for some assurance that I was ok.

“I’ll be ok,” I said lying through my tears and pained expression. “I’m sorry.”

She rubbed my back a couple more seconds. “Don’t apologize, just take your time.” And then she was off.

Just as I worked up enough energy to make my way to the top of the final flight of stairs, another editor from the magazine showed up. It pained me to see the sympathy in her eyes, but I was glad for the company. She cheered me on all the way to the top and stayed with me as we walked into the venue, only to find we had to go up some more. At least this time there was an escalator…

When we arrived at the registration table, I was sweating profusely and unsuccessfully trying to put on a happy face.

“You shouldn’t have come,” said the guy running the event. “You look like you’re in an incredible amount of pain.”

I looked at the ground. “I would have been fine if I hadn’t had to climb the stairs,” I said with an uncomfortable giggle. My face flushed with heat as I felt the sympathetic stares of the staff on me.

He put his hand on my arm lightly, “Are you ok?”

“It was really hard…” and I turned away feeling naked as the tears fell once again. I dried them away quickly and took a seat, half hoping he would send me home, half wanting to be useful.

The rest of the day was spent sitting in the back of a ballroom watching presentations with my leg propped up on a chair. After the last session, I looked for someone to give me a ride to my car. Since everyone was still busy with conference duties, I made my way, resolved that I wouldn’t cry again. It took me nearly 30 minutes make a five minute walk, but I made it. Once I got into the car, I allowed myself a 30 second release, dried my face, started the engine and drove home where I locked myself away for the rest of the night.

Yesterday will go down in my mental history as one of the hardest days of my life.

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