THE VERDICT

‘Just missing the ‘T’ for it to be a complete burnout. ‘

I suspected it before I heard the verdict. I’ve been there, done that. It was one thing that scared the heck out of me. Emotions, body, sight and sound...everything goes numb.

The vacation opened the valve that was so carefully kept closed. Although spoiled generously by the kids who were with me, I was too tired to enjoy it as I should. To be sure there was better sleeping and eating than I did at home, and hours of solitary reflection in a beautiful setting, but it all seemed to be surface only; nothing was being felt deeper where it was needed. I began to worry.

Although the house smelled like a stable when I arrived home (Smooch is still not fully house-trained), the welcome received from the doggies was all anyone could want. It took me more than an hour to return their enthusiasm, wash the floor, and go for a short trek with them outside.

Then a bonus – Suzie was here! This wonderful best friend called to tell me her house in this area had been robbed, so she would be around for a couple of weeks to deal with police, claims, etc. We’d be seeing each other on the ‘morrow. I crawled into my own bed that night feeling that my worry was a false alarm – I was much better – things were going to be okay.

The next morning, I sat my desk and stared at a piece of blank paper. But wait ...it wasn’t blank. There was writing on it, numbers, but I couldn’t understand a damned thing, and couldn’t remember what I was supposed to do with it. My brain shut down. Okay, so I was tired. I moved away from my office, went for a walk with the delighted doggies, came back and snuggled up with them on the couch. A snooze should put me on track.

I went back to that paper four times during the day. Each time I looked down at it without picking it up, then walked away. It’s not that I didn’t want to do the work; I actually couldn’t even force myself to touch it again.

What was worse was that I didn’t care.

The visit at Suzie’s helped some. She fed me, chatted, made me laugh. I watched her watching me, but also knew she wouldn’t pry, but would wait for me to tell her what was wrong. I didn’t...not that night. I decided that it was back to the ‘one step at a time’ thing, the ‘tomorrow is another day’. I could make it happen. I always do.

And it worked, for a day. The constant ringing of the telephone became a white noise. An added request from a client, and my mind stopped. The hamster fell of its wheel. I turned everything off – telephone, computer, fax, the radio, even every light in the house, and went to bed. I stayed there for the rest of the day and the night. I remembered to feed the dogs around 3 AM. By this time my kids and Suzie, who had been trying to contact me, were getting frantic. I was sinking into a fuzzy cloud of grey. Fred came home and found me crying. I didn’t even realize that I was until my daughter texted for the umpteenth time and warned me to get back to her or she’d be coming here.

It was a wicked few days and the diagnosis just confirmed what we already knew. Steps needed to be taken. The first thing was food and sleep. Suzie made sure I ate one good meal a day, and I was in bed, at least relaxing, right after a short walk with the dogs. The client’s added request was refused definitely; two more clients are with other accountants now, and most of the income tax forms were farmed out to be done elsewhere too. I kept some work – I do need income – but the load has lightened. I get up from my desk every other hour and drowse. Slow but sure is the ticket now.

And I’m SMILING again!!!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.