I ended up abandoning a second summit of Everest in favor of my own bed at home which was luckily only 30 minutes away – an advantage of going to school in my home state. I attended all of the events throughout the afternoon and evening, but hit the proverbial wall by the time I was concluding event #2 and prepping for event #3.
I was exhausted.
The cause of my exhaustion was not from lack of sleep, hurting sides from laughing too hard, or sore knees from Dan’s and my campus stumble peppered with inappropriate commentary that would have made the Jesuits gasp in horror.
I was overwrought due to the constant demands of active listening.
My head was on a swivel trying to look at everyone’s faces and discern their nonverbal body language to help me understand the context of a conversation. My brain was worn down from playing a constant game of “filling in the blanks” for the words I didn’t hear. My eyes hurt from staring intently at people’s mouths in an effort to speechread and participate in conversations. It pained me to realize that I would need to admit defeat as I was completely depleted. I felt waves of anxiety mounting as I tried to figure out how I was going to ‘rally’ to get through the rest of the weekend feeling the way that I did, knowing full well that I would not enjoy myself to the maximum extent. As the brain fog mounted and the seizure warning signs started to emerge, I continued to give myself a pep talk about “rallying” and “staying in the moment”. I went to the restroom during the second event with hot tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, desperate for guidance as to what to do next to make all of this ok, to allow me to keep going forward and participating in events that were not designed with my needs in mind. The environs were too crowded, too loud, and had horrific acoustics.
Suddenly, and I know this sounds crazy, I heard a voice answering my queries. There was a whispered message meant for me from a source unknown, though I like to think it was Father Monan guiding me once again from beyond the grave. It said: “But you don’t have to.”
An audible gasp escaped me in my realization that I get to make the decision that is best for me, at that moment. I could go back to my own bed. There was a snuggly dog waiting at home along with a hot shower and a tempurpedic mattress.
My decision was made, I popped back to my dorm and packed up my things, making a plan to attend the final event of the night and then pick up my personal belongings and head for home.
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