Are There Monks in the Caribbean?

I'm sorry if that last post was a little revealing. Jack was all like, "did you really just write about your mammogram? Eww."

I'm one for transparency. Why hide my experiences when I can gross out my friends?

We're feeling reflective today. It's a Monday night and both Jack and I are laying in our respective recliners, grimacing from bad headaches and weird body aches that plagued us both through a Monday. It just seems as though winter hit so quickly; it was 78 and sunny last Tuesday and I'm staring at my iPhone, unable to believe that accumulating snows are on their way for Wednesday's forecast.

Cue the Thera Flu. Good thing we have an electronic yuppie fireplace in our new house. Flip a switch! And whoosh! Fake flames galore. At least it took the edge off the chills we both have!

I could use a sick day off work. Things have been brutal. The type of brutal that, despite my 8-minute commute and gorgeous closet where I can pre-plan my pantsuit rotation for three weeks, I have resumed wondering if I'm barking up the wrong proverbial career tree.

I have this wonderment every few months, necessitating a mental health day where I watch reruns of Friends, drink pre-mixed margaritas, and make bacon-cheese steak fries. I then convince myself that I'm okay and I return to the treadmill of work, eager to thrust myself into the Rat Race once again. I. Can. Keep. Going! Yes! I'm a machine! A completely-overscheduled machine who's always running the Indy 500 without ever making a pit stop.

It's bad when my assistant actually told me to cool it for a while. She's 3 years my senior and every bit the mother hen. She's the one who truly runs my life and the pace of my days is directly proportionate to her optimism for life. If she's mad or bummed, I'm less scheduled. If she's happy and in an achieving mindset, I'm booked for 10 hours straight, for 4 weeks straight. It's rather funny. When something bad happens, she'll exclaim, "OH NO!" But it comes out sounding throaty and raw, like Animal from the Muppets. "OH NO!"

[EVERYTHING ties back to the Muppets here.]

Something I learned recently from Jack is that all of life is cyclical. You're never on your game 100% all the time. You're never completely fit and healthy 100% of the time. You have to take SOME days off from being a rockstar. Sometimes you just don't have the 6-pack abs or sculpted shoulders. Sometimes you have to coast at work. Or in life- whatever your station. Cereal for dinner? Fine! Sleeping on fresh towels because we forgot to wash the pillowcases? So be it! Buying two pairs of larger pants because I haven't made it to the gym? FINE (albeit- I'm still mad).

I keep thinking about the Cayman Islands or a quiet monastery or even the Irish countryside. I'm craving peace and quiet, unscheduled days, and lack of wifi or cell service. I want to travel to Zimbabwe or go on a Caribbean cruise where internet access is $3.99 per second. I want to be unreachable so I can regain my own equilibrium.

But will it help? Is that momentary peace sustainable?

I think my problem is that I am addicted to being needed at work. [Some call it workaholism, I just call it over-achieving tendencies. But whatever.] I served my first stint as Administrator on Call last week at St. Gonzo's and loved that I was paged at random times to tend to random would-be emergencies. I liked that they needed me. I like being busy and overscheduled...until my body gives out and I'm laying around listlessly on a Monday night, listening to Enya while Jack cooks homemade Manwich, while I complain to you poor people!

What's the balance? Is there one? I'm not sure I can find a balance while I work in the complex juggling act of healthcare. Do more with less, while receiving less reimbursement and the government is demanding higher quality. Something has to give.

I just hope it's not me. I'll be on retreat in the monastery on the Cayman Islands!