As easy-going as I might be, I'm never able to end a day happily without having a sense that I accomplished something that day. The size of the accomplishment doesn't matter, as long as something was done. I felt that satisfaction for several years of working at my job. I was able to go home at peace and able to leave any thoughts work-related behind at work, where it should be.
As chronic stress set in, I might have claimed that I still was able to leave work concerns behind at the office, but I brought the adrenaline with me. I went home hyped up, falling asleep at odd times, and waking up in the middle of the night because of it. Eventually, the concerns did follow me home. Those things that so and so demanded I get done as soon as possible and how do I work them in with those phone calls, and that horrendous list that's going to take months to process?
The amounts of demands coming at me all at once caused an imbalance that went beyond my accomplishment capacity. I dreamed of the moment I could be relieved of those things and breathe easily again!
And yet, it got worse. So many months I helplessly watched my growing piles of demands and came home having more to do than what I accomplished, and my cries for help were either ignored, not recognized, or dismissed. That was the worst part of it.
