Dr. Mom, Nurse Nana, and Undoing My To-Do List

As a mother for thirty-four years, and a grandmother for four, you'd think I would have figured this out by now.

Kids get sick!  And then the other kids get sick!  And then I get sick!

I'm sick of this!

One of the most frequent interruptions to work I have tried to do, and a life I have tried to make, has been the illnesses of children.  Acute and chronic.  Slight and more serious.  Physical and mental.  And quite often, some combination of these, and affecting more than one child at a time.  And always requiring some alteration of my routine, either minor or grand.

I accept that providing the care and nurturance needed to support these children who depend on me in their return to health and functioning is my responsibility.  Not my responsibility alone, but one that has fallen mainly to me, if for no other reason than that I am capable of fulfilling it.  Exceptionally capable.

At present, my household includes one minor (in his late teens), and one young adult, in addition to a spouse who is by nature helpless when it comes to dealing with his own incapacitations, let alone those of others.  Additionally, I provide part-time childcare for my daughter's four-year-old and five-month-old.  I am no longer chiefly responsible for any of these individuals.  But their illnesses still throw a wrench in my works, as they have done this week--what with the extra trips for Pediacare, and for prescriptions and sick food; the extra hours spent sitting on the floor with a barfy preschooler; the worrying and advising as my asthmatic, acutely ill, and recently employed son learns to work while sick.  The chicken soup.

But here's the thing.  Not only is it inherently stressful to deal with sick people, and particularly small sick people.  There's all that regression, the whining and screaming and demandingness.  And there's the barfing, the uncovered sneezing, the shiny green snot on the upper lips.  The hacking cough that hurts to hear.  And the loss of sleep, the twenty-four-sevenness of the whole thing.  But added to all this are the demands of work that are incompatible with this job of home nursing.  Demands that don't go away, just because we are not in a position to respond to them. 

In our society, we don't arrange our work lives to accommodate illness, though it is pretty much a given that it will occur.  And it is generally women who pay the price of this lack of "intelligent design."  For some of us who are employed outside the home, it is an issue of paid, or unpaid sick leave.  Some workers cannot take time off, period, to deal with illness.  Others must sacrifice income to do so.

In my community, we recently passed a paid sick leave ordinance, which was subsequently stopped by an injunction; then the injunction was overturned on appeal; then the governor signed into law a bill blocking the ordinance.  The ordinance would have required that employers allow workers to earn paid sick leave, which could be used for their own or family members' illnesses.  It would have been a major benefit to low income women and their children.  Other communities have passed measures mandating paid sick leave, and still others have attempted to do so.  The National Partnership for Women and Families is working to establish support for national legislation providing for paid sick leave.

It will never be fun or easy to take care of sick children.  Or to be sick ourselves.  But we shouldn't be punished for stepping up to the task.

In addition to the paid sick leave issue, there is the societal more that work must come first.  No excuses.  This expectation is increasingly problematic as work creeps into our homes, and beyond its workday boundaries, with email, texts and smartphones expanding our accessibility.  It is difficult to contend with the feelings of guilt and resentment engendered by these requirements while simultaneously carrying barf buckets, washing extra laundry, administering medicines, visiting doctors, taking temperatures, and providing TLC.

In this environment, it is a radical act--one that I am trying to educate myself to perform--to let oneself off the hook.  So this week, I intend to let go the work that interferes with what I need to do for the sick people in my family.  And I will not push said work into the time I need for rest, so that I don't get sick.  'Cuz God knows, no one has time to take care of me!

Done for the Week: The Short List

Literally.  A very short list.  One of those weeks again.

Done for the Week:  Nov. 7-13, 2011

1. Read Separate Beds, by Elizabeth Buchan
2. Continued to work my two part-time jobs
3. Published 2 blog posts
4. Continued significant work on current clients' projects
5. Continued to give nearly full-time support to my daughter and her family as they coped with early arrival of their baby, and my daughter's continuing health problems
6. Traveled to Houston on the weekend with my husband to see friends
7. Saw Andrei Molodkin's Crude installation at The Station Contemporary Art Museum in Houston
8. Visited Project Row Houses in Houston
9. Saw Experimental Exhibit at Houston's Watercolor Art Society Museum
10. Had a delicious dinner at Baba Yega Restaurant in Houston
11. Did laundry
12. Packed and unpacked
13. Continued reading Elizabeth George's A Traitor to Memory aloud with my husband
14. Finagled financial support for both sons in their separate educational ventures
15. Took my grandson to his swimming lesson
16. Meditated three times
17. Took some time alone during trip with my husband
18. Ordered room service breakfast

As in previous weeks, helping my daughter and her family deal with the demands and difficulties of her medically complicated postpartum period and the needs of her preemie infant in a Level III NICU miles away was still my most important accomplishment this past week.  Enough said.

Last week's focus goal was to "practice positive, non self-indulgent self-care, in whatever form I can."   I did manage to meditate three times, to spend some time alone while traveling with my husband, and to order room service breakfast.  All good.  However, I did not succeed in maintaining my exercise schedule in the face of the continuing demands of family support.  

I have worked too hard at incorporating regular physical activity into my life, and attaining my current level of fitness, to let my new found athletic life slip away.  So my focus goal for the coming week is to get back to training, and to work out at least three days.  Because I need it.

Done for the Last Two Weeks: Having Hit the Wall

One of the blessings of this blog has been the (admittedly not vast) "public" accountability for the way I run my life, which is built into these weekly done lists.

And one of the curses of this blog has been the (thankfully not vast) "public" accountability for the way I stumble while running my life.

This post's title blares last week's missing update. The story behind the story is some serious back pedaling.  The major dose of "good mother" behavior which dominated the last several weeks seems to have resulted in a tantrum-like reaction, in which I found myself unable/unwilling to do anything that a) was optional, and b) required any sort of initiative on my part.

I've decided to think of it as a self-correction.  This designation seems like the shortest path back to what I think of as "my work."  And that includes, but is not limited to, this blog.

Done for the Last Two Weeks:  Oct. 24-Nov. 6, 2011

1. Ran three times, swam once
2. Picked up new wetsuit
3. Attended last Run Better class with Trifaster's Lauren Jensen
4. Read The Farming of Bones, by Edwidge Danticat; Mothers and Other Liars, by Amy Bourret
5. Continued to work my two part-time jobs
6. Published 1 blog post
7. Continued significant work on current clients' projects
8. Continued to give nearly full-time support to my daughter and her family as they coped with early arrival of their baby, and my daughter's continuing health problems
9. Helped my son complete loan papers for school
10. Went out for three happy hours with my husband
11. Watched second and third episodes of Boss with my husband
12. Did laundry
13. Watched the first two entire seasons of The Good Wife, in an act of utter escapism
14. Continued reading Elizabeth George's A Traitor to Memory aloud with my husband
15. Straightened out nagging bill issues
16. Attended a special meeting on organization's proposed by-laws amendments
17. Vacuumed several dogs worth of hair off our living room carpet--AGAIN
18. Took my grandson to his swimming lesson
19. Straightened, vacuumed, and dusted our bedroom
20. Reset several clocks and watches back to Standard Time

In between sessions of self-indulgence, I continued to spend significant--though decreasing--amounts of time during the last two weeks helping my daughter and her family deal with the demands and difficulties of her medically complicated postpartum period and the needs of her preemie infant in a Level III NICU miles away. 

And this was still my most important accomplishment.  My daughter is beginning to recover, and my new granddaughter is doing well.  The baby has not yet decided to move beyond passive nourishment, however, which keeps her from coming home for the time being.  And so for now, and for the foreseeable future, Nana-ing remains Job 1.

As part of coping with the stresses of this interval,  my focus goal, from two weeks ago, was to "resume meditating.  Period."   And to show for this?  Another epic fail.  Although I know that meditating is an important element of self-care for me, and a major contributor to the effort to depression-proof my life, I managed to avoid the cushion altogether for the last two weeks.  Part of the tantrum, it would seem.

For the coming week, I am setting a more flexible focus goal, to accommodate the continuing unpredictability of my schedule and my current incorrigible nature.  I am committing myself to practice positive, non self-indulgent self-care, in whatever form I can.  I'll know it when I see it.

Done for the Week: Another of Life's Little Detours

I'm still up to my neck in four-year-olds this week.  That is to say, I've been spending the better part of my waking hours with one very talkative, very energetic, and very dear little boy, and trying at the same time to be as much help as possible to his mother--my daughter.  Her new baby turns two weeks old tomorrow, although by rights she shouldn't really be born for another seven weeks. 

My brilliant advice to my daughter, which I'm trying to remember to follow myself, is to take this challenging period one day at a time.  It seems that's the best I can come up with.  Really.  In the meantime, here's what I got done, somehow, last week:

Done for the Week:  Oct. 17-Oct. 23, 2011

1. Continued 5K training with my youngest son, in preparation for his first race--Finished Week 8 of 9 Week Couch-Potato-to-5K program
2. Took my son shopping for new running shoes, and running gear
3. Cheered my son after he came in 5th in his age group in the Fall Classic 5K, and 24th overall! 
4. Won my age group , beating last year's time by 3+ minutes
5. Ran three times (including race), swam once
6. Read Where the God of Love Hangs Out, by Amy Bloom, Once Upon a Time There Was You, by Elizabeth Berg, and Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk:  A Modest Bestiary, by David Sedaris
7. Continued to work my two part-time jobs 
8. Published 2 blog posts
9. Continued significant work on current clients' projects
10. Continued to give nearly full-time support to my daughter and her family as they coped with early arrival of their baby, and my daughter's continuing health problems
11. Helped my son purchase required laptop for school
12. Celebrated my son's first day in technical college automotive program
13. Went out for happy hour with my husband
14. Saw The Ides of March with my husband 
15. Watched first episode of Boss with my husband
16. Did laundry
17. Continued reading Elizabeth George's A Traitor to Memory aloud with my husband
18. Paid our household bills
19. Vacuumed several dogs worth of hair off our living room carpet
20. Entertained my out-of-town stepdaughter and her two sons, and arranged a family tennis outing
21. Took my grandson to his swimming lesson

Once again, the "most important thing" I accomplished last week was continuing to help my daughter and her family deal with the demands and difficulties of her medically complicated postpartum period and the needs of her preemie infant in a Level III NICU miles away.  We continue to refine the schedule and strategies for dealing with this temporary situation, and to marvel at the resilience of this tiny being as she matures and sheds one tube after another on her way to coming home in a couple of weeks.

I am working hard, but not minding the commitment or its requirements.  For whatever reason--probably the rewards of having had my own surprise children, and the lessons of relinquishing control when it was denied me--it is easy for me to take the long view.  This time will be here and gone before we know it, along with its special opportunities.  I am grateful to have the freedom and flexibility to be able to support my daughter in this way.

Last week's focus goal, in the midst of this adventure, was to "fit in three runs, in preparation for Sunday's race."   I managed to run twice before the race, and to swim once while taking my grandson for his swimming lesson.  Not ideal preparation for our race, given that I had only trained once the previous week, but the best I could do.  And good training in acceptance.

Next week's focus goal is to resume meditating.  Period.

Done for the Week: A New Leaf on the Family Tree

My family contains one more person this week than it did at the beginning of last week--the first girl born into our extended family in many years.  I am ecstatic.  I am worn out.

The little one who was in such a rush to get here has left some serious turbulence in her wake.  In the midst of her joyous and disruptive arrival, here's what I got done:

Done for the Week:  Oct. 10-Oct. 16, 2011

1. Continued 5K training with my youngest son, in preparation for his first race--Finished Week 7 of 9 Week Couch-Potato-to-5K program
2. Ran once
3. Read Murder Your Darlings, by J. J. Murphy
4. Continued to work my two part-time jobs 
5. Published 1 blog post
6. Continued significant work on current clients' projects
7. Attended second week of four week Run Better class with triathlon coach Lauren Jensen
8. Became a grandmother for the second time, as my daughter's premature daughter entered the world
9. Became a live-in Nana to my four-year-old grandson
10. Gave nearly full-time support to my daughter and her family as they coped with early arrival of their baby, and my daughter's continuing health problems
11. Dealt with my daughter's acutely ill dog
12. Helped prepare my son to begin technical college later this week
13. Went out for happy hour and a movie with my husband
14. Did laundry
15. Continued reading Elizabeth George's A Traitor to Memory aloud with my husband

Last week's "most important thing," hands down, was supporting my daughter and her family through the premature arrival of her new daughter, and her own continuing health problems.   The baby was born early Tuesday morning, at 31 weeks, and though doing remarkably well, is expected to be in the hospital for at least another 3 weeks.  My daughter is dealing with two separate complications and a preexisting chronic illness, compounded by exhaustion and the aftereffects of necessary obstetrical interventions.  Her four-year-old is struggling with the temporary chaos and emotional distress that has beset his happy, stable home life.  We are all attempting to deal with the strategic demands of tightly scheduled twice daily visits to the NICU; my grandson's part-time preschool schedule; my daughter's medical appointments, including yet another specialist to be consulted for a new condition; hot and cold running relatives--the various members of our complicated extended family, all of whom want to help, to visit, to be part of things, and mostly on their own terms; and my daughter's serious need for rest.  


I have adopted the attitude I found helpful during my father's extended illness and eventual death a few years ago--that our circumstances currently are more like M.A.S.H. than like Happy Days, and we need to lighten our loads and keep bailing.  Low expectations, clear priorities, and a healthy sense of humor will get us through.  In the meantime, I cling to my nightly glass of red wine.  For the heart benefits, of course.



My focus goal last week was to "make some time for resting and taking care of myself and my home, and staying loose about how that will get done."  I did manage to get to my running class; to meditate in the middle of the night while my daughter was in preterm labor and I couldn't sleep; to squeeze in a couple of latte breaks; to vacuum several large dogs worth of yellow lab colored hair off my living room carpet; to read an inconsequential mystery novel; and to spend a pleasant evening with my husband.  If I had to miss three blog posts, abandon my novel, skip workouts, miss yoga and tap class and sleep and showers, I did the best I could.  

This week, we can probably better anticipate what lies ahead.  We are starting to problem solve, and to martial additional resources.  My new focus goal is to fit in three runs, in preparation for Sunday's race.  The rest will have to take care of itself. 

Done for the Week: Against the Wind

I turned another year older last week.

Time rushes by, and fans me, my good intentions, and my big dreams as it passes.

Here's what I got done against the wind:

Done for the Week:  Oct. 3-Oct. 9, 2011

1. Continued 5K training with my youngest son, in preparation for his first race--Finished Week 6 of 9 Week program
2. Ran once; swam once; biked once
3. Read Away, by Amy Bloom
4. Continued to work my two part-time jobs 
5. Published 2 blog posts
6. Continued significant work on current clients' projects
7. Held third tutoring session with clients
8. Registered for upcoming Fall Classic 5K with my son
9. Attended first week of four week Run Better class with triathlon coach Lauren Jensen
10. Had informal consultation with guest orthopedic physical therapist concerning persistent knee injury
11. Participated in 12 mi. Breast Cancer Awareness Ride
12. Continued to give substantial support to my pregnant daughter and her family
13. Found my lost cell phone
    
14. Did laundry
15. Fixed my husband's bird bath with my grandson's help
16. Began clean-up of our ravine with both sons and my grandson
17. Celebrated my birthday
18. Held joint family party for my birthday and my daughter's birthday
19. Took my dog to the dog park twice, once with my husband, once with my son and grandson
20. Watched episodes of Eureka with my oldest son
21. Took our Isuzu Oasis in to investigate deafening exhaust system noise
22. Continued reading Elizabeth George's A Traitor to Memory aloud with my husband
23. Continued raising money for New Orleans Area Habitat for Humanity on my Facebook Birthday Wish--exceeded my goal of $250
24. Attended Communications Team meeting
    

The "most important thing" I did last week, again, was supporting my daughter and her family in her high-risk pregnancy.  A seemingly endless round of medical appointments, a last stressful week before leaving her job on an early, extended maternity leave, and increasing fatigue left my daughter in need of many more hours of relief child care than we had scheduled for.  This week promises to be a bit easier for all of us, with fewer appointments and the absence of work pressures.  But as her health is expected to worsen as the pregnancy progresses, we are just trying to take it one day at a time.  Her needs will remain a priority for the weeks to come.



Last week's focus goal, for the third week running, was to "meditate at least three times."  My grade?   F!  Not even F+.  I ended each day in a near stupor, with just enough energy to close my eyes before losing consciousness.  Not enough oomph left for sitting and breathing, or the effort of thinking of nothing.  

I have several hypotheses about my current state of exhaustion.  The most likely explanation has to do with an increasingly crazy and precipitously changing schedule, which has left no time for self-care, including meditation.  I am running on an energy deficit, clearly not a situation that can go on beyond the short term. 

So next week's focus goal?  Make some time for resting and taking care of myself and my home, and staying loose about how that will get done; meditating if I can manage it, sleeping as needed, a hot cup of tea and a good book in my swing in the yard. . . .

Done for the Week: Nana Boot Camp

Last week is a blur from where I sit this morning.

The next several weeks (I hope we get that long) will be devoted largely to supporting my daughter and her family as we wait for my second grandchild to be born.  Lots of doctors' appointments.  Lots of extra time with my grandson, so Mama can rest.

All of our lives are being rearranged for the duration. 

Here's what I got done in Nana Boot Camp last week (no lanyards, no obstacle course):

Done for the Week:  Sept. 26-Oct. 2, 2011

1. Continued 5K training with my youngest son, in preparation for his first race--Finished Week 5 of 9 Week program
2. Ran once; swam once; biked once
3. Read Unless a Grain of Wheat, and Dead Men's Bones, both by Stephen Boehrer
4. Continued to work my two part-time jobs 
5. Published 4 blog posts
6. Continued significant work on current clients' projects
7. Held second tutoring session with clients
8. Had new intake appointment with my son for vocational services
9. Had lunch with friend
10. Helped youngest son prepare for first road trip, and gave phone support throughout
11. Began working on novel again
12. Gave substantial support to my pregnant daughter and her family
13. Continued (unsuccessfully) hunting for lost cell phone
    
14. Did laundry
15. Meditated once
16. Began listening to Meditations to Change Your Brain, by Rick Hansonand Richard Mendius
17. Took my dog to the dog park three times, with my husband
18. Watched episodes of Eureka with my oldest son
19. Lost considerable time to fruitless search for rear wiper for 1996 Isuzu Oasis
20. Began reading Elizabeth George's A Traitor to Memory aloud with my husband
21. Went out for Happy Hour with my husband
22. Straightened out energy bill budget billing snafu
23. Analyzed energy usage--we're in the greenest category of homes of "our type," and we're still going broke paying for "lights, heat, action"
24. Raised money for New Orleans Area Habitat for Humanity on my Facebook Birthday Wish

Again last week, the "most important thing" I did was supporting my daughter and her family in her high-risk pregnancy.  I am "down for" whatever I can do, for however long this waiting period lasts.  All else is subject to the vagaries of my daughter's health and her changing needs.  


My focus goal last week, before my daughter's situation worsened, was to " meditate a minimum of three times."  How did I do with that?  Not so much.  Not enough focus, evidently.  Clearly, this time of additional stress and commitment will require that I step up my effort to find/make time for meditating.  

My motivation was strengthened by beginning, yesterday, to listen to Meditations to Change Your Brain.  One of the authors, Rick Hanson, also wrote Buddha's Brain:  The Practical Neuroscience of Happiness, Love, and Wisdom, which I read earlier this year.  I have been interested in using the audiobook (Meditations to Change Your Brain) to try applying some of what I learned from Buddha's Brain.  The introduction I heard yesterday was full of wisdom, hope, and information, including the finding shared by the authors that meditation may make our brains more resistant to Alzheimer's.  (Of special interest to me because:  1) this week I turn a year older; 2) I have family members who have struggled with memory loss; and 3) I still can't figure out what happened to my cell phone a couple of weeks ago.)


For the coming week, I will continue my focus on meditating at least three times.  If I can remember. . .

Acceptance Boot Camp

Life just keeps throwing me curves.  And you know what?  I don't think it's just me.

I was listening to musical artist Pezzettino today on the radio, describing the personal significance of her soon-to-be-released album entitled Pedestrian Drama.  I was particularly struck by her embrace of the adjective "pedestrian," in recognition that troubles and "drama" are common to the human condition.  We are not so special in our pain and confusion.  Or in our stress.  Or in our inability to stay any course without being blown off by unanticipated events.

And the whole curve thing makes me think of a workshop I attended recently, on the 10th anniversary of 9-11, where the main presentation was entitled "From Tolerance to Empathy."  Drs. Sam Richards and Laurie Mulvey, Co-Directors of the World in Conversation Project at Penn State, sketched a framework for moving into conversation that can bridge differences.   Participants practiced specific skills to facilitate such interaction.  

The highest level skill we dealt with on that occasion, in a mixed gathering of 300 Muslims, Jews, Christians, and "Others" like myself, was one they referred to as "steering into the curve."  The metaphor was taken from the advice to drivers negotiating slippery surfaces.  The idea is to go toward the  difficulty, instead of trying to jerk one's steering wheel in the opposite direction and risk making the situation worse.

So as new circumstances amend my plans and schedules in major ways--as at present with the serious health problems of one of my children--it seems like advice I can use;  steering into, not the health issues, but the chaos engendered by the changing needs for my support and care.  Kind of like riding the waves of labor contractions, instead of fighting for control.

Something I'll be working on for the next several weeks. . .

Blogging on Borrowed Time

Way too much late-night blogging lately. 

Blame it on the NBA, and my family's practice of watching games together.  Blame it on the project I tried to dodge but got sucked into at the eleventh hour.  Blame it on some overlapping extra duty in my extended family.  On ramping up triathlon training.  On the season from hell in Wisconsin politics with no end in sight.  On the devil making me do it.   On. . .

Right now, I should be in bed, unwinding toward sleep in these last minutes of May 26th.  I will need the restorative power of slumber before tackling another crowded day tomorrow.  

But I'm thinking about the pattern that's forming, taking me away earlier and earlier in the day, for more hours, and filling my evenings with multitasking.  And I want it to change.

Or at least I think I do.  Because if I really want it to change, wouldn't I just change it?

Out of the Ashes

As part of the looking back and looking forward that so many of us engage in at the beginning of a calendar year, I have been thinking of changes I wanted to make last year. And since I have been trending glass-half-empty of late, I am especially noticing those that didn't happen.


A year ago on this date, I wrote about having recently taken part in a ritual dubbed a Fire Communion by many Unitarian churches.  In my congregation's interpretation, each participant fed into the fire a written phrase emblematic of a story we wanted to let go of. I wrote, and relinquished to the flames, "the wind beneath everyone else's wings."


With that action, I intended 

. . . to claim more of my energy for my own.  I have been immersed in nurturing others for more than three decades, and it feels like time to shift the balance. . . .I have depleted myself too much in all this caretaking, caregiving, and just plain caring.  I have allowed my nurturing self to devour equally important parts of my identity.  And I need to let go of the idea that any or all of these beings and causes will plummet to earth without my constant attention.  I can, and have to, begin to live more in my own life.

People close to me would make the case that I haven't moved far off that mark. 

So did the ritual fail?


My husband and I have frequent conversations about "spirituality," which I own up to, and he insists is not part of his life.  Wikipedia introduces the concept in this way:

Spirituality can refer to an ultimate or immaterial reality; an inner path enabling a person to discover the essence of their being; or the “deepest values and meanings by which people live.”

It is hard for me to imagine anyone not experiencing this aspect of human existence, even if only subconsciously.  But at any rate, as an agnostic, I don't hold too strongly to many of the views and practices which claim my attention.  Nor do I feel certain that they aren't of value. But at least at the level of intention, my disposing of what pop pathologizers would label "codependency" was authentic.  But damn if it didn't rise again from the fiery cauldron that claimed it.


And you know that scene in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, where Fawkes the Phoenix bursts into flames, and is reborn as a chick?  And how moved we all were at his regenesis?  Well, trust me, I feel no such redemption in the stubborn clinging to life of this self-limiting trait of mine.  When I threw it into the fire, I meant for it to disintegrate, and to stay that way.


What I take from this failure, I guess, is that magic alone is not going to be enough to rid me of this characteristic.  It will probably take vigilance, and effort, and forgiveness of my slow-changing self.  


Or maybe the resilience of my overnurturance, in the face of actions to destroy it, signifies some value in all my other-directed feelings and actions, and a need to tame rather than torch them.  


Perhaps I can learn something from this rite and the limits of its alchemy.  Something to shape my expectations with respect to the "sadness and anger" that I tossed into a solstice night fire last month.

Procrastinating 101: Finding Right Work and Making Work Right

This week's Procrastinating 101 post deals with Chapter 7 of Marshall Cook's Slow Down. . . and Get More Done, entitled "Do You Really Have to Hate Monday Morning?"  In this section of his book, Cook discusses the need to "make work right" and to "find right work."  In keeping with his overall focus on the quality of our lives, and of our working lives as well, Cook holds that the way we experience work is more important than how much we get done.  He opens with the example of two ditch diggers responding to a question about what they are doing.  The first answers sarcastically to the effect of "What does it look like I'm doing?  I'm digging a &*(^&%^%$ ditch!"  The second, putting his work in context, replies that he's helping to build a cathedral.


The second ditch digger illustrates how we can "make work right."  In addition to the way that we think about our work, the way we perform our work can also contribute to this endeavor.  Relevant to this is the Shakespeare quote on my calendar for yesterday:  "Things done well and with care exempt themselves from fear."  And, we might add, from alienation.


Alienation from work fuels stress, and is the flip side of overinvestment in work--what we have come to call "workaholism."  Cook acknowledges that many of us 

• work weekends and holidays
• have a hard time unwinding and taking a vacation
• break dates and put off leisure activities to get more work done
• have a hard time distinguishing between "work time" and "time off."

But he differentiates "happy hard-workers" from "those whose hard work actually impairs their ability to live full, happy and balanced lives."  He offers these questions to help us determine which label applies to our work mentality.

• Do you ignore unmet needs and sacrifice relationships because of your work?
• Do you family and friends suffer because of your work habits?
• Do you resent the time spent working?
• Does work leave you exhausted?
• Could all that busyness at work be in some sense an escape from other responsibilities?

Cook goes on to discuss how each of us can find the work that is right for us.  Personal values, and balance between work and family are key.  He tells us that "Discernment and fulfillment come in four stages," which are "easy to list. . . .but aren't easy to do."  They are:

1. Know who you are.
2. Choose what is right and true for you to do with your life.
3. Believe that you will be able to do it.
4. Be willing to pay the price for your choices.

He urges us to

[f]ind work that matches your disposition, your aptitudes, your interests and your values.  Follow your inclinations and intuitions.  Heed the urgings of your heart.  Seek the right way--not the safe way, the easy way or the accepted way.

He concludes the chapter with this "5-step process for making work right and finding right work:"

• See the big picture
• Become constantly better at what you do
• Look for and create opportunities
• Make a plan
• Do something every day to work toward fulfillment of your plan

All well and good.  But I have difficulty applying this outlook to my own life, working and otherwise.  I have something in common, perhaps with early hunters and gatherers, who, Cook tells us, "had no separate work for 'work,'" which "was more a natural part of the flow of the day."  I moved away from work addiction when I left "my brilliant career."  One seemed to necessitate the other, and neither felt congruent with the family life I wanted, especially as that family became more complicated and more demanding.  I do a lot of things that feel like work in a day, but much of it has been, for years, and continues to be what sociologists call "emotional work."  In my case, this has entailed caring for children and for elderly parents.  The things I've done for pay have been meaningful, but not radically different from other caring work and the volunteer work that has taken up a good deal of my time.  I am in the process of redefining what I consider "my work," to focus on the writing I always planned to do.  But I probably have more work to do on "making work right" than on "finding right work."


I'm working on it.


  

The Center's Not Holding

I’m having a hard time staying on course lately.  The community organization that has been a large part of my life in the last few years is in crisis—yet again—and I’m getting drawn in.  I’m not sure whether I’m attending a prolonged wake, or handing instruments to roadside surgeons.  The field is definitely contaminated.

Personally, I am presently engaged in the process of reconstructing my routines, and refocusing my efforts.  This is a project I know too well, having spent most of my adult life living semester to semester, as a student, an instructor, a parent of students, and a professor’s wife.  I have also juggled part-time and full-time work with mothering, which has required me to restyle my days on a regular basis.  I know that I am not alone in this but, at least among my friends and acquaintances, I seem to have experienced more than my share of flux.  So I’m a little off balance to begin with, these days.

I’m giving myself a little talking-to this morning, consisting of the advice I would give a friend who found herself or himself in similar circumstances.  And I am telling myself to give some thought to how much flexibility and responsiveness I can afford, as I react to the new demands and opportunities created by my organization’s death rattle.  And my answer needs to be, not so much. 

It has taken me months to reach this place, where I am beginning to do things that I have been planning/wanting to do for a long time, and to have some clarity about where I want to put my energy, what is important to me, what choices I have.   The years are short, as Gretchen Rubin reminds us, and I don’t want another of these precious periods to pass only to come around again to the same point.  And though my Buddhist teachers would perhaps say that “progress” is an illusion, I think they might also be sympathetic to my desire to be in my own here and now.  And on my own path.

So I am reminding myself not to jump ship.  My ship.  If I need to throw out life preservers, or lend navigational skill, or put in a call to the Coast Guard, I am more than willing.  But I have my own vessel to pilot, and going down with my large and listing seafaring neighbor is not an option.  

The phrase “whatever floats your boat” carries a flavor of hedonism, but in this case, I am what floats my boat.  And it is my job to keep it afloat.  As I witness the struggles of the perhaps doomed craft whose crew I never really left, I need to stay aware of my own weather, and keep my oar in the water.