i think my job is killing me

sometimes i worry that the way i live my life will end up having serious repercussions on my body in the future. i mostly blame my job.

my worklife is one big deadline. while its nice to go home at the end of the day with a clean slate (meaning that i put all of my stressful stories to bed every day and hardly have any holdovers), the stress of pumping out stories and dealing with the moving pieces of three things at once between the hours of 11 a.m. and 5 p.m. makes my stress level spike.

and sometimes, things can go very wrong, causing even more stress. and i am already a high strung, perfectionist type of person. i like predictability and control. i'm surprised i haven't started going gray.

take yesterday, for example. even after it was over i was still so tense i couldn't sleep. i managed to pass out eventually but slept fitfully, then found myself wide awake at 5 a.m. so by now, 10 a.m., i'm exhausted already.

yesterday started out harmless enough. then i semi-volunteered for a quasi-feature story. it was to be longer than a news story with some analysis added in. and for a bonus, i didn't have to do anything else all day. the catch? i had a doctor's appointment to get to by 3:45, meaning i would have to leave around 3:30 and wouldn't be back until 5 or so, prime interviewing and writing time.

things were promising at first. i emailed a big list of pr contacts, looking for help. i got some good feedback and set up some interviews. by 1:30, i still hadn't spoken to anyone and i was getting antsy. i told my editor we may have to scrap the featurette idea. she advised me to write the story as if it was any other news story, and then gave me a second story to work on.

i started working on the second story and then started receiving calls for the first one, finally. it was 3:15, and almost time to head to the doctor, and i hadn't eaten and hadn't even started writing the feature-ish story, although i now had three good interviews in the bag, with more offers from lawyers looking to speak to me. i had finished off the second story i had been given pretty quickly, though, which was a blessing.

off to the doctor, which is stressful enough in and of itself. i could feel my heart grow tight and beat faster as the minutes ticked by and i sat in the waiting room, glancing at a magazine but unable to read. all i could think about was my phone ringing at my desk and a story waiting to be written. how late would i be at work tonight?

after waiting for a half an hour, i got to see the doctor, and my appointment went by quickly. i was pretty happy in the end, but then i realized i was starving. oh, i forgot to mention that in the craziness of my stories i forgot to eat lunch. so i stopped for a salad on my way back to the office. which i scarfed down while i listened to the six messages left for me on my voicemail while i was out. there's nothing like lunch at 5:15.

so i was stressed. what do i do about all the lawyers who had left messages for me? i decided, along with my editor, not to spend time that night interviewing lawyers who were all going to say the same thing anyway. i'll probably continue to follow the story and write another article, after talking to more lawyers, next week.

either way, i ended up at work until 7. and when i was done i couldn't shake the stress of the day. then i ate pizza. then i barely slept.

this whole endless cycle of working myself literally crazy and then eating poorly and sleeping poorly is having a toll on my body. i think i forgot to wash my hair with shampoo this morning while i was showering at 5:30 a.m. (i couldn't sleep so i might as well shower, i thought). i have big bags under my eyes. my skin is sallow and breaking out. my cuticles are ripped raw, and i've bitten my lips to death.

this is no way to live. something has to give.

for awhile, i thought i had my work life down. i was less stressed at work, i could handle it. this summer was downright relaxing some days. but lately, particularly since i returned from vacation, i feel like one big stress ball during work days. last saturday, i slept until 1:30 p.m. my body was crying out for sleep, relaxation, relief. it was great to sleep in like that, but scary. i knew it was the afternoon, but i could not pull myself out of my weary coma.

thank god the holidays are almost upon us. i need a break soon.