Let go... just let them get ahead of you
And nothing will happen
Let them leave you behind...Let go... just let your mind wander...
Over houses and roadsides
Over planes in the sky

You are so tired, you cannot sit down
You just pace on the floor
With your cigarette smoke angels above you

Stop... all the hoping and waiting the while
Let the hunger and hating sit down
And be nothing but air in a big, empty room
It's good... good enough to just sit there in peace
And the world can go right on without you
And forget what they want you to be...

Let go... you don't have to be anyone

© Amy Tiven/BMI

After therapy today, this song kept trundling through my head. I hadn't seen my therapist in two weeks. When I saw her last, I was lamenting the fact that I couldn't function because of searing back pain. I told her today that I've been struggling with this shingles outbreak. I told her that she, harbinger of doom and warner of dire consequences, had turned out to be right. I pushed myself too hard and it came back to bite me. She's been warning me that something was going to happen because I've been going beyond pushing myself and moved on into shoving.

My therapist wanted to know what I thought about this. I told her that I should have seen it coming. She wanted to know what I was doing to take extra-special care of myself during this difficult time. Uuuuuuhhhhh.....

She let out an exasperated sigh. "May, this is serious. Call your mother and cancel Florida. Stop going to work for a few days. Stop, stop, stop. Don't get my hopes up by telling me you made arrangements to work half-days and in the next breath tell me that you've been staying at work anyway."

I thought for a moment and said, "I am afraid to stop. I am afraid to do less. I am afraid that people will see I am not doing everything I am capable of. I am afraid they'll think I'm lazy or using the illness as an excuse to snag some free time. I am afraid of not being enough."

She stared at me, stunned. "May, are you kidding me? And why do you care what people think? You are sick. You need rest. Can I say it again? You need rest. Why do you think work is more important than your health? Your immune system is stressed out. If you don't do the right thing now, you could pay a much higher price later. May, honestly, why don't you think you're worth it?"

I couldn't answer her question, but she had correctly identified the core issue. I told her I had been ruminating on this topic for a week. It was as if I were compelled beyond my own desire and forced to just keep going as far as I could. I said, "I am afraid to stop."

She said that she has seen people push themselves relentlessly and then pay with their health. Heart disease, recurring illness, and cancer were some of the stress-related conditions that had been attributed to this type of self-denial. Didn't I care about that?

"I said it before, and I'll say it again: Death does not scare me, but I really hate to suffer. I want all or nothing. No time-outs."

"May, May, May. You need to think about this. You're courting disaster. How are you going to change your life now that you've seen what happens when you put your own well-being last?"

I told her that despite all of my soul-searching, I just didn't know. And the truth is, I don't. I really do think that I'll be written off as an incompetent flake if I give up any of my current responsibilities or projects, and then I won't have credibility ever again. I also care a lot about what becomes of the work I've started. I can't trust anyone else to do what I do or do it as well. It's not arrogance, it's just the truth.

I don't love myself. I barely tolerate myself. How can I possibly give myself permission to be less than I already am when I know I should really be much more?

I really don't know what to do.