Affix Your Own Oxygen Mask Before Assisting Others

Anyone who has been on a plane has heard this bit of advice.  Recently, I've been reminded of this concept as a parent, friend, manager, and employee. 

I have reactive hypoglycemia and have to plan for - and treat - low blood sugar every few hours, every day.  After mowing the lawn on a warm afternoon last weekend, I found myself struggling to stay upright as I finished the last few rows of grass.  I knew exactly what was wrong, but I chose to press on (stubborn people can become downright belligerent with moderate hypoglycemia) and finish the task at hand (I'm a Type A list maker who derives pleasure from crossing things off said lists).  The mower made it to the driveway (not to the garage), and I made it inside the house, but not up to the kitchen where my glucose tablets live.  Then I'm shouting at my kids, asking them to run and get my glucose, something to drink, and a granola bar, as well as my blood sugar meter.  They've seen this a million times and have even seen me pass out several times, so they aren't too impressed by my dramatic entrance and desperate demands.  So at the same time I'm trying to articulate what I need and whip my kids into action (my daughter is wasting time by asking what kind of granola bar I'd prefer and whether she can have one too), I'm also trying to retain my consciousness while my head is swimming and my body is trembling. 

If I had just stopped mowing and taken a break to have a snack, I wouldn't have arrived in this moment of helplessness and panic.  And for as long as I was in a compromised state of health, I was unable to be much of a parent (or much of a lawnmower!).

In life, too, we must learn to recognize the signs our bodies and souls give us, signaling that we are fatigued, overdrawn, compromised, conflicted, or failing.  We need to spend time tending to ourselves.  Only then, when we are more full than empty, more fulfilled than in longing, more restful than weary...are we able to provide reliable support or guidance to other people, other causes.  Stretching ourselves too thin winds up serving no one.  Not well, anyways.