It’s Okay to Not Be “Doing”

lifeupdateI have a hard time, sometimes, accepting that it’s okay for me not to have a traditionally productive day.  Even when there are things that need to be done.

I’m wrapping up a lot of things that have been stressing me out; or, not even stressing me out, but just, I don’t know, taking up mental and emotional resources?  I met up with the old friend I hadn’t seen in nearly a decade, I got a chance to catch up with another friend I hadn’t seen since her engagement in April (and got asked to be maid of honor!), GISH week wrapped up, and I finished my second-to-last week of ESY.  Three more days of work this week, and I have two-and-a-half weeks off.

That’s plenty of time to be productive.  I had a productive two weeks at the start of summer; there is nothing keeping me from doing the same at the tail end.  I even managed to get the worst of the overwhelming housework done this weekend (including cleaning up my art work space and folding about five weeks of laundry), so with a little but of planning and follow-through, my house could be spotless by Friday.

So why do I feel such an intense, aimless restlessness right now?  Why do I feel like I should be on my hands and knees with a scouring pad, or hunched over a pallete mixing paints, or plugging away in front of a screen (oh… I guess I’m kind of doing that, huh)?

It is so hard sometimes to remember that my focus this year is on perseverance and patience, and that — sort of by necessity — means I won’t always be doing.  Sometimes I’ll be planning, or organizing, or prioritizing.

Hell, sometimes I’ll just be resting, because goddamnit, there are some task for which you really, really need to rally all your mental reserves before you embark on them.

I am making lists of the chores and projects I want to complete during my vacation.  I am taking inventory of all my cabinets and making lists of the organizer bins and baskets I need to buy.  I am taking literal notes on the areas in my house that I need to plaster and repaint.  I am pricing out floor tiles and stocking up on cleaning supplies.

I am keeping a journal of art ideas.  I am reading articles about watercolor technique and the best brushes to achieve a particular effects.  I’m sketching thumbnails of hopefully soon-to-be in-the-works projects.

I signed up for a “virtual writer’s retreat” that starts today.  I installed Libby and started listening to a book, because it’s harder for me to resist the call of my phone than I’d like to admit, and I know this will make it easier to ensure I “read” more, which will hopefully help me write more.  I’ve tossed my notebook back in my bag so I have it on me at all times.  I’m pinning flash fiction and poetry prompts to Pinterest.

None of that feels real; none of that feels like “doing,” but it’s all part of the process, and when your energy runs low, doing literally any of those things is so, so much better than stalling out and wallowing in procrastinatory self-loathing.  It is so, so hard for me to believe this, even the hundredth time through.  Even after the waiting and planning and gathering of the wits have resulted in the work and efforts I remain the most proud of.

I am not doing nothing.  I am laying the foundations.

Hopefully tomorrow comes with renewed energy, and a chance to start building upon it.

My Brain Doesn’t Trust Itself

adventures of the everydayI’ve been working at my job for fourteen years.  Fourteen years, guys.  I feel almost as at home in that building as I do… well, at home.  I know my coworkers’ rhythms, I know the routines, the programs, and the schedules — even the off-season ones.  I’ve been working Extended School Year itself for a decade, missing only the year when I was halfway through my pregnancy and (literally) couldn’t stand the heat.  I’ve worked every grade level, every skill level, every permutation.

All this to say, I know my job, okay?  So then why, for the love of Christ, did I spend an hour this morning freaking out over the absolute most basic aspects of my assignment?

And this happens every goddamned year, too.  Always, without fail.  First, I have a shitty night’s sleep the previous night, because I’m wound up and anxious about the start of something “new” (every iteration of a “first day” elicits this reaction in me — transitioning is hard).  Then, I get through the night, get up, get ready, and go, and spend the entire ride to work checking and double checking my bag, convinced I’ve forgotten something (this at least has precedence, because I forget something roughly, oh, every other day or so.  What’s awful is that once I’ve checked for and found said item, I’ll still stop and check for it at least three more times.  Lest it be summoned into the ether, for Christ’s sake).

Then I get to work — super early, too, because I have to carpool, and I only have the one ride.  You’d think that getting there early would be relaxing, right?  No rushing, just sit down, settle in, maybe bring a book?  And it gets to be; after the first day jitters are over and done with, it’s nice getting there more than an hour early and just sort of chilling.  But that first day?

Today I spent literally an hour doing laps and growing increasingly anxious that:

  1. I was in the wrong building.  The wrong building, people.  It’s always been this building.  It’s only ever been this building.
  2. That I had the date wrong.  You know, the same date it’s been forever and always into perpetuity (the Monday after the 4th)?  The date that was in my planner, on Google calendar, and in the three separate emails I got over the last few weeks reminding me about ESY??

And it’s gonna happen again tomorrow!!  You know how I know?  Because it’s already started.  I’m already second guessing where I’m supposed to be (this is a separate program conducted off-site), even though this program has always had me meet at the same place, and I confirmed twice with the lead that the schedule and routine was the same as last year.  Twice.  A program that I, again, have worked before (though granted not as long term, this is only (“only“) my fourth year).

But logic isn’t going to shake this anxiety.  Logic never does.  I am going to feel antsy and slightly panicky literally until I see my lead walk up to the building tomorrow morning, and that kind of sucks, but I don’t know what else to do about it.

After tomorrow?  Ah, the rest of the summer should be smooth sailing.  I’m honestly really looking forward to it!  But these first two days, man.  These first two days, my brain just short-circuits and it’s non-stop panic mode.

Hopefully I can get a decent night’s sleep, and find quick respite in the morning.

Fuck Anxiety Brain.