I ate a whole chocolate bar this week

In the epic battle of work vs Whole30ish, work won this round; but the stakes are too high to surrender.

I ate a whole candy bar Tuesday night.

It was my fifth night in a row traveling for work, and I was alone, and it was a Tony Chocolonely milk caramel sea salt bar that had come in the sweetly-packaged conference welcome bag.

Just an hour prior, I had resisted the beautifully plated dessert at a group dinner. Back in my room, I only meant to have a bite, but I was stressed and exhausted and fried, and it was delicious enough to feel as if I deserved it. I ended up eating the whole thing. Afterwards, I didn’t feel great, physically or emotionally. I was particularly frustrated to have caved just a few days before completing a largely successful month of Whole30ish, despite plenty of travel and January as my “busy season.”

The dessert I managed to NOT eat

Once home, I confessed the transgression to Per, who had the same reaction that I did: “Really? You practically never eat a whole candy bar in your REAL life!”

He’s right, and the candy bar illuminated the unavoidable truth:

Even the highest levels of willpower and commitment are not enough to protect your health when life succumbs to work. And especially in the face of sweet temptation.

The past few weeks have been crazy, mostly in a good way—the idea that felt like the longest shot imaginable at the beginning of the year is going live, tomorrow. (Here it is: the film we shot with Jenna Fischer, who played Pam in The Office! And the link to everything companies might link to activate Screening Time Off for their employees.) It’s been incredible to see our small but mighty team pull together something that will legitimately and absolutely save lives, and we’ve all been motivated to do what it takes to bring it to life.

What it has taken, unfortunately, is most of our waking hours, many of them spent urgently trying to triage on multiple fronts.

“I’m about to go on stage to present,” I text a colleague from the conference, in response to a flurry of client questions. “Are you able to follow up?”

I wait just long enough to see the thumbs up emoji pop up on IM, then make my way up to the dais, trying to hit the key headlines and inspire an audience of benefits leaders to take action before being whisked to a suite down the hall where they want me to recap the same points on video.

Directly thereafter, I look down at my phone to find approximately 28 text messages and emails from multiple people who have needed to connect with me critically in that past hour. The subtext was clear: Where was I and why wasn’t I responding? Didn’t I understand how important this was??

Ugh.

“I’m on it,” I type back, only to be interrupted by the benefit lead of a large and prestigious company.

“That session was so great, I’d love to talk about bringing your work to life at our company,” she enthuses.

By then my adrenaline is coursing so hard that I cannot now remember what I said in response; I hope she accepts my invitation to connect on LinkedIn so we can talk when I have a clear head.

The reminder I captured for myself at the conference

And so the day continues like an extended version of Whack-a-Mole, question after question (and sometimes the same question in search of a better answer), request after request, each more urgent than the last. By the time I board a plane, having forgotten to eat or purchase dinner despite landing at O’Hare around 9:30 pm, I am ruined.

Back home, I eat half an apple with some cashew butter before climbing into bed and preparing for a few more days similar in pace and intensity—plus the scrutiny that comes with any high-profile project, questions about missed opportunities and rushed estimates and any of the strategic decisions made along the way. Effort doesn’t matter; only results; hindsight is always 20/20, and strong performance is rewarded only by increased expectations.

The whole thing is upsetting, and as I close my eyes, I realize why:

Not because it’s hard or unfair; not because I’m tired or hungry or because I realize I’ve been actively compromising my health to keep pushing things forward at work.

What upsets me most is how familiar this all feels.

What upsets me is how easily I’ve fallen back into the pace of a role in new business—sure, stressful, but also undeniably exhilarating to be doing so much, so fast, working in lockstep with a team to make possible the things that didn’t feel achievable just a few weeks before.

What upsets me is that it feels just a little too good to be back on the juice—and what scares me is the fear that I may not be able to stop.

I’ve often remarked that in my post-cancer life and after so much treatment, I have less stamina than I used to have.

During this project, I’ve realized the truth: it’s not that I had more stamina—I had more adrenaline.

And even though that adrenaline coursing through my veins may have felt good in the moment (not unlike that first bite of chocolate), too much of it left me feeling bad: win or lose the pitch, pat on the back or not.

Working - even in the elevator - last weekend

It’s not lost on me that after four recurrences, I’m finally cancer-free—after stepping out of that role to take on leadership of Working with Cancer.

“I can’t afford to maintain this pace,” I tell my manager, who is as supportive as I could ever hope she might be—it’s my own tendencies I’m worried about.

I’ve spent most of the weekend trying to do everything in my power to make this launch as powerful as it has the potential to be. But I’ve also taken a long walk with Per and had a nap and nursed more than a few cups of coffee and called my parents. And I’ve taken the time to write something for Substack to work out how I’m feeling and why.

Tomorrow, I’ll wake up early enough to check in—then I’ll resume my Monday 7:30 am work out and try to embrace the idea that the launch will ultimately unfold as its meant to, and to its greatest, highest power.

IYKYK

If that sounds like something you’d like to be a part of, fear not—because you can be sure I’ll be asking you to share on your socials. Asking for help is still not comfortable for me, but as I consider what I have power to impact, requesting amplification falls squarely in my wheelhouse.

And at the end of the week, I’ll be going on vacation. Where I’ll be eating moderate amounts of chocolate and sleeping late and walking in the ocean and feeling good about everything we’ve done—while recommitting to taking the time I need to care for myself, in exactly the same way I’m hoping the world will be inspired to do, tomorrow.