Stick a fork in me, I'm done. I'm so done that you could actually stick a spork in me and still get to see the meat falling off my bones. You had better hurry, though, because the line of scavengers picking at my parts grows by the second. They are relentless; they are ruthless.
The dilema of the 110% person is common enough. You give 110%, you are asked to give more. You give more. You become the go-to person, the reliable rock. People begin to believe that you are strong, that you love to spread yourself so thin that you drip over the edges. They forget that you are human. They do not see you crying--they do not realize that you can't sleep at night because your heart hurts and your mind is racing. They forget that you have bills to pay, errands to run, a life to keep track of.
I'm sitting in a hotel room right now, staring at the waves lapping at the shore. I just sent an abstract off for a meeting in the fall and am now working on some random lab stuff. Everytime I open my email, there is another "one more thing to do before you leave". I'm watching the people walking by, happy and relaxed. I've been here 3 days and have yet to feel the sand between my toes. There is so much to do in the next few weeks, and I don't know how to make it happen. This trip was meant to get me out of the house so that I could finish up my corrections in peace, but the list of things to do in addition to my corrections has turned into a monster that can not be tamed.
I'm tired. I'm sad. I feel cheated. I wanted just a few days to enjoy my accomplishment, to relax and reflect. I defended on Friday and then was bombarded by emails on Monday. So many things to do that I really shouldn't be asked to do, but over the last 5 years I became the go-to girl and now the lab is in a state of panic so they keep asking for another drumstick.
You had better hurry.