At the 2021 Formula 1 Russian Grand Prix in Sochi, Lando Norris was just a few laps away from taking his first win. Seven-time champion Lewis Hamilton was chasing down Lando. There didn’t seem to be enough laps for Lewis to catch him and take the lead. Then, the rain came.
Lando qualified on pole and comfortably led the majority of the race. As the conditions worsened, both drivers’ pit walls got on the radio to tell their drivers to “box.” When a driver hears “box, box,” it means they need to come into the pits. This is typically for a tire change, but something else could be happening as well. Box is a shortened version of the German, boxenstopp (pit stop).
At the start of the race, Lewis fell from 4th to 6th place. Lando lost the lead, but regained it and looked like he would win. Lewis clawed his way back to 2nd with his eyes set on the win. As the rain fell, both drivers were ordered to box for intermediate tires. “Slicks” have no grip in the rain, which was expected, but turned into a deluge. Both drivers refused to box. On the next lap, Lando’s team again told him he needed to come in. He got angry and again said no and that he would be fine. Lewis’s team again told him to box and he came in for intermediate tires. Lando continued to refuse to come in and ran off the track several times.
When Lewis came back out of the pits, he was now under two seconds behind Lando. There were two laps to go. At turn 5, Lando’s McLaren aquaplaned off the track. Lewis took the lead. Lando boxed and aquaplaned in the pit entry. Lewis won the race, making him the first driver in F1 history to win 100 races. Lando finished seventh.
(Full 11:45 clip of the final laps with Lando and Lewis team radios)
I have always assumed I would have to work until I turn 67 in 2037. I have held full-time jobs of one type or another since I was 12 years old. Most of the jobs, I’ve worked around 50 hours a week. Some had vacation time. Some did not.
When I started working for Nspire! Today, co-owner Jeff Fielder and I had a discussion about how many stories I thought I could do each month, negotiated pay, and I got to work. I thought I could do 17-20 stories per month. Each story I wrote ranged from 1,800-3,500 words. It was too much, especially on top of my mental health issues.
By the time December came, I was at a breaking point. Deadline was supposed to be the 20th. It was the 18th and I only had four stories done. August through the first couple of weeks of December are terrible times for me. A majority of the abuse I endured occurred during this time period, with most of it in October. I could barely function. I was getting around three hours of sleep per night.
After a few conversations with owners Jeff Field and KC Heath, we worked out a few accommodations, which I honestly thought would help. Most of them did work, but it’s difficult to factor in how my brain would react each day. If I was awake most of the night due to flashbacks, it would result in a day that ranged from barely functioning to non-functional. I can’t predict when something might trigger me, only how long the recovery might be.
Sometimes, the interview itself was triggering. Sometimes, it was a smell or a sound. Those are my two biggest triggers and I can’t predict them, especially when you conduct interviews in a variety of locations. Still I tried to push through and do my job.
By the time March arrived, I had been working an average of 14 hours a day, six days a week for nine months. I type around 90 words per minute. A 2,000-word story should take 2.22 hours to write. Add in 30 minutes for photos and another 15 for proofreading and I should have been done in under three hours. It was taking me five times as long.
Paul had been listening and watching what was happening to me. He was there for the frustration and for the tears. He saw me spend every waking moment working. He knows how much I love to write. In mid-April, he said to me, “Stop. Just stop.” I thought he was done listening to me express my frustration with my inability to get things done. He said, “No. Stop working. You don’t need to work anymore. We will be okay. You can’t keep doing this.”
I wasn’t ready. I sent an email in mid-April and put in a boundary of five stories per month. I had written eight already. I ended up with 10 stories for the May issue. Things did not get better.
I’ve had many conversations with my therapist over the past year about working. She reminded me I have been working for 42 years. I said I never had a career and felt like a failure. She said it didn’t matter if you stayed in one job for 42 years or eight. Forty-two years is a lifetime of working.
I considered her words and Paul’s carefully. My friend, Bas, who was visiting me from the Netherlands, said I had a career and it was time to rest. He reminded me how I worked extra when Paul was in school and that Paul was making the offer to switch places with me.
Like Lewis, I decided to listen to my pit wall. They had more information than me. I had been living like Lando – tunnel-visioned on that first win, tunnel-visioned on completing the job and not paying attention to those who could help me. Lewis was a 7-time champion. He knew after his first refusal, he needed to listen and box.
These mental health struggles are not new for me. I am good at masking them, but they have been there my entire life. I have a name for them now and I understand what is happening to me, but no job has ever made things better. Eventually, the trauma becomes too much and I can’t function, which ultimately leads to a job change. I can do things at a new job for a while, but the end result is always the same.
Paul told me again in May to stop. I sent another email to Jeff and KC. This time, it was my resignation. It’s time to focus on me. It’s time to get a handle on my sleep. It’s time put me and processing my complex PTSD first.
It’s time for me to box.
I do have plans and goals. I would like to get my podcast back up and running. I plan on taking one hike a week, even if that hike ends up being on the treadmill because it’s too blazing hot outside. I plan on at least one blog post per week.
I plan to have my poetry manuscript ready to go by June 30. I’m still trying to get the memoir published. I am also realistic because of how overwhelming the process is and how much my mental health struggles prevent me from going forward. I’m not going to give up, but I also understand how much the deck is stacked against me. A former editor told me once, “sometimes, the best writers never get published.” I think I’m finally ready to accept those words even as I will continue to get my work in print.
My resignation letter said I would have all my work turned in by June 3. I finished a day early. Since then, I have been relaxing, thinking, processing, and planning what I would like to do for me. I went to the opening of the Japanese Hall and will eventually write something on that. I don’t care if it was a week ago. I write on my own time now.