Bot-tom-less. adj 1. lacking a bottom. 2. immeasurably deep. 3. without bounds; unlimited.
The closest I’ve ever come to bottomless was diving in the Cayman Trench. (And no, bottomless doesn’t mean without the bottom half of my swimsuit!) The Cayman Trench is more than 25,000 feet at its deepest point and I can only imagine the tremendous darkness and pressure that exists there. Those of you who have seen either The Abyss or The Hunt for Red October are familiar with the reference to the deepest part of the Caribbean Sea. You literally fall off into nothingness that appears to go on forever.
But for all its awe-inspiring depth even that remarkable feature of nature is not bottomless.
Most of the things in our lives have a bottom as well as other boundaries. Even relationships have a comfort zone. We tend to nurture friendships and even marriages where we understand how much of a commitment will be required of us. High maintenance relationships don’t last long. I’ve never had children, but I’ve often suspected that new mothers have so many issues because newborns can literally have a bottomless need for attention and care. It’s difficult to negotiate with that kind of absolute.
I’m sort of in the same place with my job. The more I do, the more they give me to do and whether it’s 40 hours a week or 70 hours a week, I’ve never enough time to do it all. I have to find the bottom of this situation one way or another.
I wonder if RA has a bottom?
I know from reading blogs that many people have found an equilibrium in their dealings with the disease. Like being suspended in the water looking down at the Cayman Trench — life support systems keeping you in check. But it’s a precarious balance and shifting currents can drag you deeper or propel you closer to the bright sunshine of the surface.
Sometimes you struggle and, try as your might, lose ground against the disease. Just when you think you’ve found bottom, you find out you were wrong. Other times you find a new drug or new personal regimen that makes a difference and you find your buoyancy again. But, at least to this point, I don’t think anyone has ever found a bottom.
Let’s hope that one day we can find an end.
I hope the thing that’s bottomless in your life today is a bottomless cup of good things.
Thanks for checking in.
I’m going through the same thing with my job. Having an illness on top of all that just makes everything seem so overwhelming.
I’m slowly coming to grips with the fact that no matter how hard I try there will always be more work to do. And I’m not pressuring myself anymore to complete everything as fast as possible. I’ve stopped multi tasking and now just focus on one item at a time and complete it. It is working for me, I hope it works for my performance expectations with my company. My health, however, comes first. If they don’t understand that.. then I think we both (the company and I) would be better off without each other.
Good luck to you!
What a sweet wish you ended your post with, Carla! Thank you for that. Sometimes problems do seem bottomless until we look for the gifts that rise around us.
When I was working, I was often overwhelmed with additional tasks that were constantly being added to my already “overflowing cup.” I managed to keep up with it and do my job well, but the stress involved was sometimes just awful, even though I absolutely loved my work. In the end, I was laid off and the problem of how to address the never-ending, always-increasing workload was taken out of my hands. A mixed blessing, that was, as I traded one set of stressors for a new set–looking for new work in a severely depressed economy and learning to live on 1/3 less income.
I hope you’ll be able, soon, to find a way to lighten your overwhelming workload so you don’t end up burnt out or ill because of overwork. Take care of yourself, my friend, and have a good and restful weekend if you can.
;)
Very well written post. My Mother died from complications due to RA. The disease severely eroded her cervical collar (spinal cord syndrome). By the time she got a correct diagnosis, surgery was not a survivable option. Her faith in Christ, is what helped her literally, see the light at the end of the tunnel. Daily, I pray for the global community of RA patients.