94: The many methods of procrastination
I’m an expert in procrastination.
In starting this post, I considered researching the actual psychology of procrastination. (I vaguely remember reading an article that connected it to perfectionism, which would have related really well to my recent posts.) I thought about finding articles that provided advice on getting over procrastination. That might have been productive procrastination for a post on procrastination–research is my favorite way to avoid doing the other things I need to do with that research.
This time, though, I participated in planning procrastination. That’s when I look at calendars and to do lists and parameters and try to make a plan to overcome my procrastination. I confirmed my first day back at work (Friday, August 17–yes, a FRIDAY) and then googled for different formats of calendars to print out to draw up a plan.
After I realized that my printer wasn’t working with this computer, I started counting the days on the screen, then doing the math of how many posts I’m behind, and how many posts I have to write by certain days to catch up, and how many days I’d need to write 2 posts a day to be caught up..
And then, of course, I realized that I was spending all this precious “both kids are occupied and happy” time planning instead of writing.
I know that time management will be a very important skill when I’m back at work with 2 kids and, you know, an attempt at my own social/physical/creative life. So I made myself stop the planning and start the writing–a small victory against procrastination.
95: Win ugly
MommaStrong is an online community/exercise series focused on people who’ve gone through childbirth. It’s $2 a month and there’s one owner/instructor named Courtney who is hilariously and earnestly and refreshingly open and honest about how hard it is to exercise while parenting. Her dog and kids interrupt her videos, which are pretty low tech—just a camera pointed at her and her mat, no editing or special effects. She messes up and forgets moves, and she loses her train of thought while explaining and encouraging. She’s very real about everything.
She also has a mantra that I’m trying very hard to adopt: “Win ugly.” If you waited till the house was clean and the kids were gainfully occupied to work out, or if you only worked out when you could get a babysitter and drive to a super special class, or if you wait until you’ve gotten more sleep.. you’re not working out. It’s better to win ugly—to show up in your messy house and and do what you can while your kids throw books behind you.
I am so guilty of the opposite of this. I have maybe a dozen different notebooks because I keep wanting to find the perfect one to be a diary/writers notebook/bullet journal. (Also I think I like collecting notebooks because they’re pretty.) But I never follow through—they’ve all got like 5 pages used only.
Right now, with this blog, I’m trying to win ugly. I’m showing up. I missed some days, but I’m not giving up because I ruined my perfect record. I’m not letting myself off the hook. I’m still writing and exercising this creaky dusty voice of mine, even though I’m not alone at a coffee shop with a breve latte and an hour to kill. I’m holding a sleeping baby, wearing the same shirt I’ve worn for the past three days (don’t judge, this is a new record for me), and I’m typing this on my phone while my coffee cools off. But I’m writing.
And my hope is that if I practice winning ugly, I’ll keep getting better at it.
96: Perfectionism (part 1 I’m sure)
I have to give up perfectionism.
This is obvious and so far impossible. I don’t really feel capable of going into my long, long history of perfectionism and all of its varied effects on my psyche and my life, but I think one consequence is my frequent quitting of things.
But not this time. I didn’t post yesterday, even though I have a goal of writing 100 posts in 100 days. And now it’s 6:30pm and I feel wrung out and ready to sleep, but I’m not going to let this turn into a streak and then roll into an excuse to quit because I’m so far behind.
So here I am, guys. Just putting my little bit of stuff out there. Even though it is far, far from perfect–and that’s ok.
GRATITUDE: Yesterday, I was very grateful for the fact that I have friends from afar who will answer when I reach out asking for favors. I often feel not worth people’s time, but somehow people keep coming through for me.
97: Gratitude
Well, that last post was a doozy. I feel like I can only handle something a little lighter this time. And remember how I said I was so full of ideas that I had difficulty committing to one because it precluded others? Yeah, well..
I got nothing today. I was late on my last post (I’ve set a personal goal of writing 100 blog posts in 100 days, and though I definitely worked on the post a lot yesterday, I didn’t finish and post it until this morning), and now I just feel kind of down on myself.
But as I sit here drinking my coffee and typing while the big kid plays on the tablet and the baby is upstairs with dad, I remember that some of my half-assed ideas were to maybe a) write about my self care of the day each day or b) write about something I’m grateful for each day. So maybe that will be my default for when I feel writers’ block.
GRATITUDE: I need three of these, and that shouldn’t be hard.
99. I’m grateful for coffee. So, so grateful for coffee. And grateful that I’ve learned over the years how to make it better and better, and that I’ve learned to put heavy cream in my coffee, and learned how to make cold brew.. I’m grateful for the ritual it provides.
98. I’m grateful for friends who stick with me through this period of depression. One of my best friends has been calling me from her commute home and made it clear that I can answer or not, based on how I’m feeling or what I’m doing, and she won’t judge either way. That is maybe the biggest gift someone has given me. I need to tell her that.
97. I’m grateful beyond words that my husband let me sleep in till 9:30am this morning. I cannot remember the last time I did that–almost a year maybe? I’ve had a bunch of rough night of sleep, and despite my current fuzzy brain, I think I really really needed it. And he never makes me feel guilty for sleeping in.
98: Opportunity costs
I learned about opportunity costs in high school economics. I remember it was a senior year semester long AP class and we were all smart asses. The teacher had had a very interesting life, and he had a tattoo of a crocodile on his chest so he could “cut a hole in a t shirt and it would look like Lacoste.” According to his standard example, one of the opportunity costs of going to college is the salary you could have earned during those four years instead of paying tuition. Lately, I’ve been thinking about opportunity costs both in terms of this blog and in terms of my waning life.
Now, I’m 34, and it may be morbid, but it sometimes feels like I’m running out of time. I’m sure some of that is due to society’s ridiculous adoration of youth (top 30 writers under 30!) and some is because my mom died at 58 (which is only 24 years from now) and some of it is, well, my anxiety and morbidity (if I get hit by a car and die today, what will my kids remember of me?). I’ve gotten that awful phone call, and I know that another morning is not guaranteed to any of us. So then what? How do we proceed when we know we might have one day left or 10,000?
When I was in my 20s, I felt like I could try out lots of different jobs and living situations and ways of existing–but I never really did. I graduated college and got a job teaching, then I worked in a random nonprofit office, then I went back to teaching.. all (coincidentally) where my mom had grown up. One of my best friends spent those years working at a wilderness camp in Utah, getting engaged and breaking it off, working on the Appalachian Trail, and then getting an MA so she could become a social worker. I’m jealous of her seemingly-more-carefree-than-mine youth. (She, of course, has said that she sometimes wishes she’d done what I’ve done. Green grass and all.)
I know intellectually that 34 is not too young to start over or try something new. But now that my ultimate doom feels increasingly impending, I tend towards paralysis (and despair, when I think too hard about it). I don’t 100% adore teaching, and it was never my dream, and I still wonder what I want to be when I grow up. At the same time, I feel stuck. In some ways, that kind of stuck is a good thing–I have a husband whom I love and who has a steady job here; I have two kids whom I love and who need things like food and other things I help provide; and I have a ton of social and economic privilege to be even asking myself these questions.
But what else is out there for me? How should I spend however much time I have left without knowing how much time that is? I wonder if I’d be happy in a career as a therapist, but there are several paths to get certified and each of them take several years, not counting the time necessary to build up your own practice. I seriously researched getting a PhD in writing and rhetoric, but by the time I finished I’d be at least 40, and then what–keep teaching? Long ago, I wanted to move to LA to pursue screenwriting, but that’s an utter crapshoot and I’d be uprooting my whole family for a dream I could have pursued in my 20s when I had no responsibilities. And the kicker for all of these is I feel that picking one kind of precludes the others. If I become a therapist now, I’ll probably never write for TV. And none of these options is one I absolutely can’t live without doing.
So I don’t do anything. I’ve just made a lateral move in my career, and though I’m excited about it, I worry that I’m living out an Ani DiFranco line that has stuck in my memory: “I wonder if everything I do/I do instead/ of something I wanted to do more/The question fills my head.” Am I choosing complacency and a life of quiet (suburban) desperation because I’m afraid of failure and I’m lazy? Or am I choosing steadiness and stability because it’s what I actually want?
What are the opportunity costs of all my life choices? Which will I regret more?
And in terms of this blog, I sometimes get overwhelmed by all the topics I want to cover. I worry that by writing about one, I’m giving up my opportunity (or drive or time or mental energy) to write about another one. And I know the answer to that is to just push through and keep writing.
So that’s what I’m doing now. I’m not even going to go back and reread this because I know it must be bloated with self importance and irrelevant observations. But Sunk cost is another term I think of often, and I’m considering this post a sunk cost and just going forward. I’m already a day behind..
99: (A) New start(s)
I’ve restarted this blog several times by now. I’m not sure what makes me think this time will be different, but I have to believe that it will. It’s the same sort of drive that keeps us falling in love or applying for jobs or trying new recipes.
Its also a drive I haven’t had for several months now. My therapist gave me some absolution by telling me that struggles with motivation and task initiation can be symptoms of depression, and I decided to give myself time to just wallow. Sit. Be. (Well, as much as being a parent of two young kids can sit and be, even with a coparent who often does more than me.)
In this year of maternity leave, I’ve begun and abandoned lots of plans. It started with intense research and narrowing down of grad school options before ultimately deciding I couldn’t justify the financial drain to my family right now. Later, I started researching a novel I’ve been meaning to write for years before becoming overwhelmed by the scope of it and stopping. I spent a week on a strict high fat low carb diet before abandoning it, and perhaps biggest of all, we spent a couple months house hunting and were one initial away from buying a new house.. before I abandoned the whole process again. Oh, and I’m still over 10 lbs above my prepregnancy weight (which was higher than it should have been for me)
I did accomplish some things. I, uh, got a new job, but one doing the exact same thing I’m doing now. (I didn’t get my dream job and I’m still a little bitter about that now.) We went to Spain as a family of four, which was quite an endeavor, and I’ve successfully kept two kids alive and fed and somewhat happy (for now). I’ve baked some things and learned how to clean some things and started really working at my therapy and some deeper issues lingering from childhood and my mom’s death. And I’ve done this all while dealing with occasionally debilitating anxiety and depression.
In the past years, I had started an annual habit of writing a document listing all of my accomplishments over the previous 12 months. I was feeling down on myself and thought that making a concrete record of the things I had done would make me realize how much I’d accomplished and forgot about when I felt like my life wasn’t where it was supposed to be. I’m honestly not sure what this year’s will look like.
My first maternity leave, I felt good and useful. I was able to be there for friends in need, and I took classes I wanted to take for work and writing, and I wrote a poem that won an award. This leave has felt so different, and it’s so hard for me not to feel like a failure this time around.
Maybe I need to learn to live without accomplishments, without defining myself by accolades and events and checkboxes. To love my body for carrying me through this year, and to let myself off the hook for not having the life I imagined when I was younger. But I also know I have the drive to be creative and try new things and I’m happier when I feel comfortable in my body.
I guess if I had all the answers, I’d be a lot richer.
100: 100 days, 100 posts
I did a lot of things right today. I brushed my teeth twice, exercised, and showered. I washed my face and used a free sample of a serum. I “made” dinner at home (ravioli from Trader Joe’s for the win!) instead of going out, and I fed the baby vegetables and grains and pasta and cheese throughout the day. I gave away a coffee cake I baked to neighbors, and I put myself out there and got a mom’s number.
I did a lot of things wrong today. I was on my phone. A lot. Around both kids. I didn’t shower for hours after I exercised. I didn’t floss (but I wanted to). I watched at least two episodes of Parenthood in Netflix, and not all while the baby was sleeping. I ate a lot of cake. A lot. Several litter boxes are filthy, the bathrooms haven’t been cleaned in at least two weeks, and my closet is a hellscape. I had little patience with the whining big kid trying to do his puzzle, and now I’m writing this on my phone in bed when I should be sleeping. Or emailing people I care about. But mostly sleeping.
I want to get away from labeling things right and wrong. I apparently judge myself harshly and hold myself to too high a standard (according to my therapist), and my friends have said I should just give myself credit for surviving this year of maternity leave with two kids while keeping them fed and staying married. But I’ve never been someone ok with the bare minimum. But maybe I have to be now? I want to learn to integrate self acceptance and self growth, and I think right and wrong are just not useful terms for me right now.
Who knows what the universe is telling me. (Yes, I know that the universe is really me and my subconscious interpreting what I’m able and willing to see in the chaotic randomness of life—like flipping a coin to make a decision just to see how you feel when it lands one way.) But I’ve got about 100 days left before I go back to work and I want to spend them a bit more mindfully. So here I am again, guys. Throwing my mind noodles at the wall and seeing what sticks.
SELF-CARE: Everrything I mentioned above. But also starting this again and actually sticking to this idea, even just for one day.
PHYSICALLY: The Stroller Strides class was good. I should follow through with that.
MENTALLY: I did a mindfulness app and fell asleep to it. It was a nice nap.
GRATITUDE: I’m grateful that I have two children when I wasn’t even sure we could have one. If you’d told me years ago that I would have them both, I would’ve been overjoyed. I need to remember that the sheer fact of their existence in my life is a sheer stroke of luck, and even though it should go without saying it, I’m grateful for them.
(And I’m not even going to change that awful noodle metaphor. )
Starting over
I feel like a first year teacher. Even though I have six years of experience in the classroom (holy crap), taking almost a full year away from teaching makes me feel like I’m starting over.
This is a pretty scary feeling. I’m worried that I’ve forgotten how to actually write lesson plans, manage a classroom, analyze data, and even respond to my last name and behave professionally (avoiding swear words has always been difficult for me). For example, I’m writing this post after staring at a blank page for several minutes after telling myself, “Ok, plan a unit. Wait, what am I teaching again?” In some ways, returning after a gap is even more daunting than being a true tyro because I know the things now that I didn’t know that I didn’t know as a first year teacher–for example, I know that I need to worry about figuring out the new grading software, and how to deal with the bureaucracy of improvement plans, and scheduling time in the computer labs, and all the other thousand paper cut deaths that await me.
Returning after becoming a parent brings a whole new set of fears and anxieties, too. I’ve never had a really pressing reason to leave school on time, leading me to futz around on planning periods and stay at work way too late. (Historically, I’ve done my best work at 6pm on Fridays because no one is around to help me distract myself.) But now, every minute I procrastinate is another minute my baby is in daycare and not with a parent, and while I’m ok with being away from him for good reasons (work, exercise, pedicures..), I really don’t want to feel like I’ve frittered away my hours with useless crap. So time management, never my strong suit as a teacher, is about to be paramount.
But in other ways, feeling like a new teacher feels really good. I’ve met up with a few colleagues this summer and while I enjoy them immensely as people, I was struck by how negative and beaten down they seem. Much of this is the system of education in our country today and I understand where they’re coming from, but I also feel like my time off has given me the breathing room to cultivate a new perspective. I’m seeing the possibilities instead of the obstacles. That blank page, though daunting, also leaves room for hope, creativity, and connection.
So yeah, I might get beaten down again. Administrators may drown me in paperwork, and my coworkers might let me down and draw me back into the breakroom blahs, and my students might demand way more energy than I have with a kid who still isn’t sleeping through the night. I will probably feel pulled in too many directions and like I can’t do anything 100%. I may regret going back to work. I may decide teaching isn’t for me.
But the idealistic 22 year old who had grand plans to save the world one student at a time is peeking her head out again, and though I thought she was dead, I’m not questioning her resurrection too much. I’m just trying to enjoy the moments–one of the lessons I’m trying to hold on to from my maternity leave.
Taking a breath.
I’m sitting in a Starbucks after trying finding no parking at the quaint hipster coffee shop in which I was hoping to spend the morning. My husband dropped the baby off at daycare this morning, and I really wanted to make this time worth the distress he is surely feeling.
I go back to work in about four weeks, and we’re starting him early for a number of reasons that I’m trying to keep in mind at this exact moment–he needs to transition in at some time, and it’s probably better now rather than when I’m transitioning back to work too; I am a better parent when I have some time away from the baby to focus on other things; maybe we can get some daycare colds out of the way before I’m working again; and we’re paying for it, anyway.
Later, I’ll try to write about all of the minutiae of how we got to this daycare decision, but for now, suffice it to say that my son is probably having a really tough time without me or my husband, and I’m not 100% confident that the care he’s receiving is what I would have wanted for him, and despite that, I’m.. ok. Right now, sitting in this Starbucks and listening to the Mazzy Star, Radiohead, and Lisa Loeb that they’re playing, and writing this post without checking the monitor every 10 seconds while drinking the iced coffee I’ve become addicted to this summer.
When I pick up my son, I’ll probably be overwhelmed with guilt if he’s been crying the whole time (likely, if history is an adequate predictor). I’ll do my best not to question my life choices and to, instead, cuddle the hell out of him and be present in the moments I have with him. To bastardize a quote from a random internet article on night weaning, I’ll do my best to “pay the baby” for putting him through this difficult transition by really focusing on him and his needs while I’m with him instead of being distracted and needing a break. I’ll fight the feeling of selfishness and vow to spend this time more productively. I’ll remind myself of all the reasons why sending him to daycare a month before absolutely necessary is a good thing, and try to remember the feeling of lightness in my shoulders while we were apart.
But for now, in this moment (in which I’m also trying to be present and fighting my instinct to overanalyze), I’ll just enjoy breathing.
Reason #3: My “happy weight”
This is complicated.
I believe in health at any size. I truly do. I believe that fat and size and numbers on the scale should not determine our self worth. I wish that society was more accepting of different body types, and I know that I am loved however my body looks.
And I believe that the vast majority of the time, diets don’t work–there’s lots of science behind that. It’s important to eat in ways that make you feel healthy and energetic and fit, and it’s important to exercise because a strong body is just plain useful and helps you, you know, not die prematurely (although, of course, exercise alone rarely helps people lose weight..)
And scientific research is changing its recommendations constantly about the best way to be healthy (or sometimes misleading the public unintentionally or not through the vast game of telephone with the media). But the overall gist remains the same–don’t eat crap and move your body some.
I’m not doing that.
I’m eating crap. I’m not moving my body enough. And my body isn’t at what I consider to be my “happy weight.” You know what I’m talking about, right? When your body feels pretty good in general and can get through the day with ease?
After I got married, I gained about 20 lbs in 9 months. Then I got pregnant.
In the 2 years after I moved in with my then-boyfriend, I gained back the 20 lbs I had just lost with weight watchers after my weight crept up after college.
My body is not at my happy weight. I’m not functioning the way I want to be. I want more energy. I want to burst into little skips and jumps when I feel like it. I want to roughhouse with my husband (not a euphemism, actually!) and I want to crawl around with my kid. I want to feel better.
So I want to get back to my happy weight. It might be a new happy weight. No matter what, though, it’s going to take some work and discipline to eat less crap and move my body more, but it’ll be worth it.
I want my body to be happy again.
teacher, learn thyself 