I went in to work facing mountains of paper and lists of
things to do. It was an avalanche waiting to crush me. I sat in a chair,
staring straight ahead. I started to work on a small piece of it. It felt like
trimming the toenail of a giant I could not conquer.
I went home to another range of mountains. This time, many were
posing as harmless crops and fields to be cultivated for the proverbial greater
good or a seemingly worthy cause. But, I thought, All of this is killing me, slowly, deliberately, one stressful toxin at
a time. I could feel myself suffocating, sweating; headache and exhaustion
from the thought of it; fear of a new mountain pushing its head up through a
volcanic floor. I needed to move away from the mountains, or move the
mountains away from me, or close the admissions window to all new
mountain-creating customers.
