Stress. Not the good kind.
That nasty, tingly feeling of absolute panic that you get when there is more on your plate than you can possibly accomplish in the time provided. Even when you squeeze in extra time, you’re still not able to complete the tasks.
You can’t think straight, and don’t know where to start next. What is most important? It all has to be done yesterday, or last week, so how do you choose? Who are you going to piss off?
All you want to do is scream, and you know that it won’t help. You start to snap at people you work with because you’re so frustrated that they don’t understand – you’re busy! Come on, there’s no way you have time to give them thirty minutes!
There’s nothing to strangle, no way to get the frustration to pass. Here’s another task, and then another. Your list gets longer, two or three more jobs for every one you complete.
Welcome to my world.
“I really need a beer,” you think. Some alcohol, anything to turn off the panic that won’t go away. A glass of wine, then maybe two. You cross the line from “I really shouldn’t have too much because I have work tomorrow,” to “Who cares how much I drink?”
When do you get to say, “Enough!” When do you put your foot down and say, “If I don’t get more assistance here, I can’t be here any more.” When are you not caring about yourself enough that you change your situation in good concience?