Why don't you
feel like yourself anymore?

I'm sure the others have given as much as me or more, so I do what I have to to pull my weight.

If I'm not doing the most, I'm not doing enough.

Because I am the rock, the one who handles it all. I can't see myself stopping until I know it got done.

Stopping before the finish line looks like failure and that's not who I am.

Because people need me, and I can't bear the thought of letting them down.

Their disappointment is harder to live with than my own depletion.

Because I could feel how much others needed me to keep going (even though they didn't say that, I could tell this is what they were expecting).

I could feel their relief when I said I'd help. I can tough it out a little longer.

Honestly, I'm not sure. I just put my head down, keep pushing and check out (or collapse) at home later.

I don't know how this keeps happening.

Into accomplishing something. I have really high standards for myself, and it has to be done twice as good in half the time. I need to know I was successful.

There's always a bar, and I'm always measuring myself against it.

Into doing the job. My job, followed by their job, then maybe someone else's job. It needs to get done, and no one will do it the way I do anyway.

The work always gets first access to me.

I don't focus on my energy. I focus on how my coworker, friend, or partner is doing. That's what makes me a good one.

I check on the relationship before I check on myself.

I don't know where my energy goes. It feels like it just drains from me.

I walk into a room and I'm already sensing everyone in it.

I don't know where it goes. I don't even remember having it.

It's less like giving and more like it was never there to begin with.

"I'm so tired, but I won't stop until I get this finished."

"What else would I do with my time if I wasn't working?"

"[Other person] is my priority right now. I'm focusing on them first."

"Ugh, I could cut the tension in that room with a knife. The vibes were all wrong."

"I'm so tired ..." and then completely checks out.

Like I can't ever get to the place where I need to be. I can't stop until I get there, but that never actually happens.

There's a finish line, and it keeps moving.

Like an engine that's run out of gas, but I'm running on fumes.

I will give my last breath, if I need to, to make sure they're okay.

I'll feel better when they do.

Like I'm buried in cement.

I never feel like I can leave my work at work. It stays with me.

Like being in the dark. There's a glimpse of light but I feel powerless to reach it.

Rinse, wash, repeat.

A few weeks (something changed recently and I'm still adjusting).

Several months; it's been building but I've been managing it.

A year or more. It's been so long, and I can see it changing my normal.

I honestly can't remember feeling any other way. This might just be who I am.