I remember it like it was yesterday. The creatures coming toward me on the screen. Looking like they were being pulled by an unseen puppet master. No expression. Some had missing flesh. Human, and yet not human. Zombies. The living dead.
I couldn’t watch any more. I leapt from my seat and ran from the room. I used headphones to block out the sound, and began reading a book to try and prevent nightmares. I didn’t want to dream about “Night of the Living Dead”.
You see, horror movies have always scared me. I’ve never seen Jaws all the way through. When I was a kid, I used to run out of the room every time the Wicked Witch of the West came on screen in “The Wizard of Oz”. And I am especially freaked when the characters are former humans who have been turned into something else – a werewolf, vampire, or zombie. Human and yet not.
A monster is scary enough because it could attack and kill or hurt you. A formerly-human monster, though, is MORE scary. Why? Because it could turn you into one of them, and use you to hurt everyone you know. The terror of knowing I could possibly become a monster like that was more than my sensitive soul could bear.
So imagine my horror when I became a zombie myself. At least figuratively. When I was living my own version of “Night of the Living Dead”.
It started the day my husband suddenly died – insomnia. I was in a complete state of shock and couldn’t sleep at all. Sleep continued to elude me as I grieved. And I kept working. It continued when I began to come back to life. I was fine during the day, and then couldn’t go to sleep at night. So I did what any red-blooded Type-A American would do. I decided to make myself productive since I was awake anyway. I told myself I was being smart.
But I wasn’t. Not only was I not sleeping, but my diet deteriorated too. I was so tired that I didn’t have the energy to cook as well as I had before. And exercise sucked out what little strength I had. All I did was walk for about 15 minutes a day.
My job was great, but it was a pressure-cooker. And I took everything on myself. I actually told myself that my life was ruined anyway, so I might as well help others on my team have a decent life. I protected them at the expense of my own health. And I kept not sleeping.
And so I became a zombie. I joined the Living Dead. Those who go through the motions every day, and their heart and soul aren’t in it. Those who deny the signals – or dare I say screams - from their body saying, “I can’t take this anymore!”
I went to work. I led my team. I performed Gilbert & Sullivan. I spent time with friends. I sang in church. I thought I was perfectly normal.
Those closest to me knew otherwise. A few tried to warn me that I was overdoing it. They had no idea what was going to happen. And neither did I. I was just a little tired. All I needed was to catch up on a bit of sleep and I’d be fine.
I don’t know about you, but I felt I was responsible to keep everything together. My team. The technology I supported. Our church music group. You name it; I was responsible for it. I couldn’t see how I could possibly stop. I couldn’t see any other way.
And then I crashed. Big time. My body had had enough. I couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t think. Couldn’t take care of myself. My body was shaking from exhaustion. I felt anxious. It was an extreme response to my body’s trauma.
Now I had to stop. It wasn’t an option. I was reduced to a shadow of my former self. I finally looked and felt on the outside what my insides had been crying. I was no longer the take-charge, in-control, get-‘er-done woman. I was shaking and spent.
It took a very long time to come back to life. Almost 2 years in fact. And I had to learn how to live. I learned how to take good care of myself. I learned my limits. I learned that weakness is actually strength, that resilience doesn’t mean superhuman, and that service shouldn’t come at the expense of your own health.
In the process I found that there WAS another way. That I didn’t have to be responsible for everything. That being part of a team was actually better and more fulfilling. I also learned that I couldn’t have it all. I had to choose. And the choosing would open doors I hadn’t dreamed were possible.
So to you Type-A, take-charge, get-‘er-done woman or man, I say this: wake up! Don’t be among the Living Dead. Live fully alive. There IS another way. A way that includes self-care, vibrant relationships, beauty in each moment, and success in the workplace.
Maybe you don’t believe it’s possible. Maybe you can’t see a way. Maybe your calendar is so jammed for the next 6 months that you can’t see how you can breathe, let alone take a real break. I know. I was there too. And I still have the tendency to rush in and overextend myself.
So let’s take this trip together. Let’s explore what it means to thrive, as Arianna so aptly put it. I’ve learned a lot on my journey already. And I’d love you to escape the Night of the Living Dead and travel with me in the land of the living. Let’s go!
If you’d like to explore this topic further, check out Episode 018 of my podcast .