Do you remember that old story about the teacher talking to his class about filling the jar? He has a glass jar and he fills it with large stones. He asks the class if the jar is full and they say “yes”, then he dumps pebbles into the jar and they fill in the spaces between the rocks. He asks if the jar is full now, and they say “yes”.  Then he dumps a bunch of sand in the jar and it fills in the spaces between the pebbles. He asks the class if the jar is full, and by now they are catching on and uncertain. He then pours water into the jar and fills it to the brim. He asks the students what the lesson is, and they reply with “there is always room to add more”, and he says “no, the lesson is that you need to decide what the rocks are in in your life, and add them first”.

It has been months since I’ve posted anything on the blog. Somehow with everything going on – a global pandemic, a contentious election, racial tensions, devastating wildfires – all of my personal issues seemed inconsequential. Of course, all of the chaos in the world isn’t the only reason I haven’t posted recently. The fact is that my jar has been full.

Late this summer, one of my coworkers needed to take some family medical leave. We were short-staffed and I took the plunge and increased from 21 to 32 hours a week. It felt a bit like stepping out of the kiddie pool and diving straight in the deep end, not really knowing if I could swim or not. At first, it was great, and I was proud that I was managing to keep it together. I felt like my recovery was finally complete, and I was thrilled to be back to my pre-injury workload.

One interesting thing about brain injury is that while sometimes the effects of overdoing it are instantaneous, they can also be cumulative. As the weeks went on, I began to unravel. At first, it was back to daily migraines, and then came insomnia, and eventually, I was waking up on Saturdays disoriented, nauseous, and having double vision. I started spending most Saturdays in bed for 5 or 6 hours, and when I was up I was staring off into space unable to even hold a conversation with my husband. Even with all of this stress and my increasing symptoms, I was ready to stay at 32 hours. I told myself that after 5 years it was time to make work my priority and if that meant giving up everything else for a time, that would just be a necessary sacrifice. Thanks to Josh’s suggestion, however, I did take some time off the week of my birthday so I would have a little energy for a birthday adventure.

Running has played a huge role in my brain injury recovery, and it has always helped not only my emotional state, but my cognitive abilities. In recent months, however, my level of exhaustion meant skipping runs and turning off the alarm in the morning. My long weekend runs turned into short hikes, holding on to Josh to keep from falling over.  Often by Sunday, I have been able to get out for 10- 15 miles, which has been great, but a far cry from previous mileage. On average I dropped from running 40-60 miles per week to 10-20 miles. While I told myself it didn’t matter, and what I really needed was more rest, the fact was that the more runs I skipped, the worse I felt.

Now let’s be honest, 32 hours a week is far less than most people work. I also do not have children and have not faced the impossible task of trying to work full time while helping kids with remote school. My decrease in running has nothing to do with available hours. Working 32 hours is the equivalent of filling my mental jar with water.  Beyond those 32 hours, I have no room for anything else. It isn’t just running that stopped. I haven’t been calling friends, or writing this blog, or reading.  I’m not helping around the house or walking the dog. Half the time I’m not even home when I AM home. I just stare blankly at the wall, off on some other planet.

I’ve always been an avid reader, and although I still struggle reading books, I spend a lot of time listening to audiobooks. I got an alert last week that I have 4 Audible credits waiting. That means I haven’t listened to anything in 4 months. While I’m aware of how lousy I have felt, it is easy to lose sight of my interactions with other people. This past week, I had 3 friends reach out in concern because they hadn’t heard from me. I hadn’t been responding to texts, calls, or emails. Then after taking a day off work to allow some recovery time Josh and I talked about how poorly things had been going. He told me flat out that he wants me to cut back. Prior to increasing my hours, I had been doing great, feeling normal on most days, and he wants his wife back.  It turns out that my working too much doesn’t just impact me.

Last week I finally gave up, and had a difficult conversation with the hospital manager about cutting back my hours. What made it difficult wasn’t that I was afraid of what he would say. I knew he would be supportive, and he was. What made it difficult was admitting to myself that I am not ready for 32 hours. I want to be recovered. I want my brain injury to be in my past, but it isn’t. The tricky part is that my manager asked what I think I can do, and that is a tough question to answer. I think I can do more than the 21 hours I was at, but I don’t know if I need to go back to 3 days a week, or can I do a 4th half-day, or alternating 3 days then 4 days? I have no idea what will be sustainable. Thankfully, he understands that and knows we can try something and might have to change it again.

A year ago I tried to increase from 18 to 24 hours, and it didn’t work. Now I tried increasing from 21 to 32, and it didn’t work. Regardless, that is still progress. Even the fact that I felt I could try 32 hours is a big deal. I’m grateful to have an employer that is willing to help me succeed and work within my limitations. I’m also grateful to all my friends and family that asked “are you sure increasing your hours is a good idea?”, for not saying “I told you so”, even though they were right.

Veterinary practice is a different world now than it was pre-COVID. Let’s face it, the whole world is a different world. I wonder if, in another time, I could’ve managed 32 hours. If the pace at the clinic wasn’t so frenetic, if all the other chaos around us wasn’t happening, and things felt a bit more 2019, I wonder if I could handle 32 hours. The fact remains that we have little control over what is happening right now, and that produces a lot of extra stress for everyone.

For now, I will control what I can. I will cut back on my hours. I’ll fill my jar with those big rocks – my husband, my family and friends, and my health. I will try to get back on track with my running, and generally taking better care of myself. I’ll download a good book, and call up a friend, and be thankful that I have the option of not working full time.  Who knows, maybe by the spring I’ll be ready to try again.

TBI to 100 again eventually, for now, maybe TBI to 30…

Stay safe and stay healthy.

-Kristin