The Mental Workload and How it Can Hurt Us.
This post came from a very real, very painful, and very sucky incident that happened to me on Wednesday. Essentially, I had a very early flight to Utah for work and I had to get up around 4 AM to make it to the airport, get parked, and get through security. Needless to say that caused a huge amount of stress. I don’t like 4 AM. I never have. Even when Charlotte was an infant I would LITERALLY resent her for needing to be fed if it was between 3 and 5 AM. Yes, I’m a bad person but there it is. That’s when I get my best and most restful sleep. So if it’s interrupted, I’m a sad panda.
So I wrestled myself out of the guest bed (which I slept in so as not to wake the whole family when I got up at that heinous hour - Mom points!), got dressed, and headed out the door. But as I was slinging my suitcase into my Toyota Highlander (defined so you know that it was a high gate, not a tiny car), I felt a tell-tale PING shoot up my back and down my legs and I suddenly couldn’t move. I stayed there in a weird bent over squat-type pose for a minute and then struggled, trying not to cry, to the drivers seat. I knew it was bad, I knew it would get worse, but still, I had to make this flight. So I drove to the airport.
When I finally got to the airport I was in so much pain I literally couldn’t walk well. My legs were shaking and I was near tears. But I pushed through it and made it to the ticketing area to check my bag. The line was really long - a recent snowstorm had screwed up all of the planes and people were trying to get where they needed to be. I got through the line, dropped off my bag, and headed to security. The line was outrageous, there was nothing to be done, and I was likely going to miss my flight. I heard my name called because the doors were closing in 4 minutes just as my stuff was coming out of the X-ray machine. I made a run for it. With a bulging, pinching, painful lumbar disc. Pain shot down my legs, throughout my back, but I am a stubborn idiot and I made it to the plane. I was that guy that got on the plane right before the doors closed.
**Side note: try not to judge that person harshly. That look you give them like “GAWD couldn’t you get your shit together to get here on time?!” That’s not necessary. Because they could be injured, in pain, and just trying to get where they need to be before collapsing. They could be near tears and totally stressed. So let’s all just be gentle with one another, OK?
The Mental Workload
Essentially, The mental workload refers to all of the balls that women juggle: school events, homework, doctor appointments for ourselves, the kids, the husband (lez be honest they are children sometimes too), planning the meals, laundry, weekend plans, kid birthday party gifts to have on hand, making sure we don’t run out of toilet paper, planning the vacation, saving for vacation, paying the bills, not overdrawing the checking account, making sure the kids clothes match, making sure the husband’s clothes match, making sure we all get haircuts, the list is really never ending.
DISCLAIMER: My husband is extremely progressive and although we have traditional roles in some senses (I do the laundry and he mows the lawn/plows the snow), he will do whatever is asked 99.9% of the time (He hates shoe shopping, for example, so I do the back-to-school shopping). He is awesome. BUT: regardless of how awesome he is, he still asks me every single day “What’s for dinner?” Every week he asks “What are we doing this weekend?” He still expects the planning to come from me. And he know this. He makes jokes like “I’m not sure if we are free, let me consult my social director.” I still love him, but dayum boy can’t you think for yourself?
Back to the mental workload. And how it hurt me. The night before I hurt my back, I was stressed out. First, I had booked that ridiculously early flight because I was trying to avoid having to pay an extra $120 dollars for the later flight. And I was trying to save my company money while also making sure that my trip had the least impact on my family’s lives. So the ridiculously early flight was booked. And I had to go to Cambridge the day before for work. I had a customer visit, a webinar, and a few correspondence items I had to do. In addition I needed to speak with my boss about some important deadlines looming for some decisions. So I was very busy that day and super distracted. Of course the traffic on the pike was awful, i didn’t get home until 8PM. On my way home, I got a phone call from the child/husband crew telling me that there was a project that was assigned and OMG how were they going to get it done while I was gone?! So I spent the time driving home designing a simple solution to the problem. All the while, I was also stressed and guilty about the fact that it was going to snow while I was gone and school would likely be impacted. In our litigious society these days, school closes at the slightest whiff of snow, and it really makes having a two-parent working family difficult sometimes. So after a few passive-aggressive comments from my husband about me not being here when it snows, I was piling on the guilt and stress.
I got home and within 2 hours I had: done the project, packed, folded 2 loads of laundry, talk to my daughter about what needed to be done to be prepared for the days I would be gone (field trip forms needed to be completed, soccer bags pre-packed, etc.) and watched about 30 minutes of TV with the husband. I went to bed. And proceeded to wake up every hour thinking I wasn’t going to hear my alarm (WHAT IS WITH THAT! IT HAPPENS TO ME EVERY TIME I TRAVEL!).
I tell you all of the excruciating detail to illustrate that I was stressed, exhausted, and wound up tight by the time I went to bed. I didn’t relax, I didn’t sleep well, and then, of course I hurt myself. Because every muscle in my body was wound tight like a spring and in that moment I forgot about the age-old “Bend at the knees” adage and I just grabbed that back and heaved it up into the SUV.
Would things have been different if I hadn’t had all of that on my mind? If I could have just relied on everything to get done by the husband and daughter without my constant supervision? Probably.
Would I not have hurt myself if I hadn’t booked that stupid-early flight and slept in a different bed that wasn’t as familiar and had a poor night’s sleep obsessing about the upcoming customer visit and how my family would fare while I was gone? Probably.
Would it turn out differently if I didn’t have the mental workload in addition to the actual workload? Probably.
Tell me how the mental workload affects you. Misery loves company.
So I wrestled myself out of the guest bed (which I slept in so as not to wake the whole family when I got up at that heinous hour - Mom points!), got dressed, and headed out the door. But as I was slinging my suitcase into my Toyota Highlander (defined so you know that it was a high gate, not a tiny car), I felt a tell-tale PING shoot up my back and down my legs and I suddenly couldn’t move. I stayed there in a weird bent over squat-type pose for a minute and then struggled, trying not to cry, to the drivers seat. I knew it was bad, I knew it would get worse, but still, I had to make this flight. So I drove to the airport.
When I finally got to the airport I was in so much pain I literally couldn’t walk well. My legs were shaking and I was near tears. But I pushed through it and made it to the ticketing area to check my bag. The line was really long - a recent snowstorm had screwed up all of the planes and people were trying to get where they needed to be. I got through the line, dropped off my bag, and headed to security. The line was outrageous, there was nothing to be done, and I was likely going to miss my flight. I heard my name called because the doors were closing in 4 minutes just as my stuff was coming out of the X-ray machine. I made a run for it. With a bulging, pinching, painful lumbar disc. Pain shot down my legs, throughout my back, but I am a stubborn idiot and I made it to the plane. I was that guy that got on the plane right before the doors closed.
**Side note: try not to judge that person harshly. That look you give them like “GAWD couldn’t you get your shit together to get here on time?!” That’s not necessary. Because they could be injured, in pain, and just trying to get where they need to be before collapsing. They could be near tears and totally stressed. So let’s all just be gentle with one another, OK?
Back to the Mental Workload
Have we all heard about the mental workload that women take on within the workplace and home? Check this out if you haven’t:The Mental Workload
Essentially, The mental workload refers to all of the balls that women juggle: school events, homework, doctor appointments for ourselves, the kids, the husband (lez be honest they are children sometimes too), planning the meals, laundry, weekend plans, kid birthday party gifts to have on hand, making sure we don’t run out of toilet paper, planning the vacation, saving for vacation, paying the bills, not overdrawing the checking account, making sure the kids clothes match, making sure the husband’s clothes match, making sure we all get haircuts, the list is really never ending.
DISCLAIMER: My husband is extremely progressive and although we have traditional roles in some senses (I do the laundry and he mows the lawn/plows the snow), he will do whatever is asked 99.9% of the time (He hates shoe shopping, for example, so I do the back-to-school shopping). He is awesome. BUT: regardless of how awesome he is, he still asks me every single day “What’s for dinner?” Every week he asks “What are we doing this weekend?” He still expects the planning to come from me. And he know this. He makes jokes like “I’m not sure if we are free, let me consult my social director.” I still love him, but dayum boy can’t you think for yourself?
Back to the mental workload. And how it hurt me. The night before I hurt my back, I was stressed out. First, I had booked that ridiculously early flight because I was trying to avoid having to pay an extra $120 dollars for the later flight. And I was trying to save my company money while also making sure that my trip had the least impact on my family’s lives. So the ridiculously early flight was booked. And I had to go to Cambridge the day before for work. I had a customer visit, a webinar, and a few correspondence items I had to do. In addition I needed to speak with my boss about some important deadlines looming for some decisions. So I was very busy that day and super distracted. Of course the traffic on the pike was awful, i didn’t get home until 8PM. On my way home, I got a phone call from the child/husband crew telling me that there was a project that was assigned and OMG how were they going to get it done while I was gone?! So I spent the time driving home designing a simple solution to the problem. All the while, I was also stressed and guilty about the fact that it was going to snow while I was gone and school would likely be impacted. In our litigious society these days, school closes at the slightest whiff of snow, and it really makes having a two-parent working family difficult sometimes. So after a few passive-aggressive comments from my husband about me not being here when it snows, I was piling on the guilt and stress.
I got home and within 2 hours I had: done the project, packed, folded 2 loads of laundry, talk to my daughter about what needed to be done to be prepared for the days I would be gone (field trip forms needed to be completed, soccer bags pre-packed, etc.) and watched about 30 minutes of TV with the husband. I went to bed. And proceeded to wake up every hour thinking I wasn’t going to hear my alarm (WHAT IS WITH THAT! IT HAPPENS TO ME EVERY TIME I TRAVEL!).
I tell you all of the excruciating detail to illustrate that I was stressed, exhausted, and wound up tight by the time I went to bed. I didn’t relax, I didn’t sleep well, and then, of course I hurt myself. Because every muscle in my body was wound tight like a spring and in that moment I forgot about the age-old “Bend at the knees” adage and I just grabbed that back and heaved it up into the SUV.
Would things have been different if I hadn’t had all of that on my mind? If I could have just relied on everything to get done by the husband and daughter without my constant supervision? Probably.
Would I not have hurt myself if I hadn’t booked that stupid-early flight and slept in a different bed that wasn’t as familiar and had a poor night’s sleep obsessing about the upcoming customer visit and how my family would fare while I was gone? Probably.
Would it turn out differently if I didn’t have the mental workload in addition to the actual workload? Probably.
Tell me how the mental workload affects you. Misery loves company.
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