Before 40… I had to control everything and perfection ruled. I was an expert at micromanaging my employees (not the best way to motivate people), everything had to be in order at all times, and anything less than perfect hurled me into an anxiety attack. Nothing less than my high standards would do. Workaholic was my middle name.
After 40… I learned to lighten up a little (but just a little) and tried to live a less stressful life, but my inner control freak just wouldn’t let stuff go. I had a hard time adjusting to working smarter instead of harder and longer, delegating tasks to my team, and not sweating the small stuff. I was overworked, overwhelmed, and making my body sicker and sicker each year I kept up the hectic pace. Arthritis, asthma, frequent colds and infections, headaches, muscle tension, and who knows what else had taken over from many, many years of chronic inflammation caused by stress, poor eating habits, and lack of sleep. I was, dare I say, a bitch to live and work with. I tried everything to change, but nothing worked. I was too exhausted and burned out to implement any changes effectively. Something had to give or I was headed for a life of misery. Then it all came to a head. Only a year after I started getting healthier and working a little bit smarter, everything just crashed. Sometimes, when you need it most, life just kicks you in the ass and forces change for your own sake.