A week ago, I went to the doctor because I thought I was having a heart attack.
Woah, calm down! I’ m fine! Really! It turned out to be a strained muscle in my chest, combined with dizziness caused by the weather swings we had back then. What was even more interesting than my trip to the doctor’s office that day was the talk I had with the doctor’s assistant. Since the doctor herself was far too busy with other patients, her assistant was taking my blood pressure and ECG. Once it turned out those were fine, she asked me a few questions about my life.
Do I work? Well yeah, fortunately enough I’m full-time employed, doing a job I really enjoy.
Do I work out? Sure, three times, sometimes even four times a week at my BJJ dojo, with the odd running session in between.
Do I have other hobbies? I told her about my blog, my gaming habits and my need to stay on top of the info-iceberg related to all my interests.
Am I in a relationship? Yes, since more than a year with the greatest girl on Earth.
By this point, I was starting to wonder about all these questions. I could understand her interest in my physical activities, but her verbal barrage was starting to delve into more private things. Granted, I do not mind telling my doctor’s assistant about such matters, but I was getting curious about it. So, when the assistant gave me a moment in between her questions, I asked her why she was so interested.
Apparently, she thought that the chances that I would be the victim of a heart attack were really low. However, judging from what I told her, she felt that I might just be working myself towards a physical and mental burnout. Though she noticed my smile when the word “burnout” was dropped, she advised me to take her warning seriously. I would not be the first Twentysomething who thought he could take on the world, just to hit the wall a few years later. Given the serious look on her face, I nodded and told her I would ponder her advice. I thanked her for her help, thanked my body for not getting me into the hospital, and left.
Well, the assistant got me thinking. Maybe it is a problem of us young, ambitious people that we do not know our limits. We like to do as much as we can, savouring every minute of our life to the fullest. We’re young, have an income and start to realize that we’re growing up. We’re not yet ready to be really mature, so we do keep on living like we’re fifteen without a care in the world. And that might just be the problem.
It’s hard to grasp, but being 24 is different from being 18. Though I don’t feel like I have much weight on my shoulders, I have a lot more on there than when I was a teenager. I guess I’m not the only young adult who underestimates the duties and tasks that come with being independent. Among all these fine bloggers here, I think there are many more like me who try to combine a full-time job and family with their writing ambitions. To all you great people I say: know your limits.
Really, just know your limits. It’s okay to surpass them once in a while, but know when enough is enough. Take care of yourself.
I’m thankful that my body decided to send me to the doctor’s for this little lesson. I’ll surely keep an eye on my limits, so this won’t be my last post. Oh no, this will surely not be my last post…