Heading Out

I was going to be done packing, and nagging my traveling companions to pack, yesterday.  Rrriiiight.


It's not like I haven't been busy.  Heck, I haven't even touched Bejeweled Blitz in days.  But I still haven't opened my suitcase.


I've been up to my ears in tasks and projects, as we prepare to leave.  But that's really the problem.  Or at least part of it.  Some part of my primitive brain responds to impending journeys as though I were saying goodbye to my life as I have known it, as though it were my last chance to set things right.  If I hold true to form, I will be dashing in from the last yoga class I can attend for 12 days; giving the kitchen a final once-over (as though my husband and my dog would be keeping it up in my absence!); throwing a few more last-minute items in my carry-on; completing nonessential work tasks; and being driven to the airport in a frazzled state, my energies spent before I board the plane at mid-day.  Since I have to get through two flights and a layover with a nervous teenager and his sibling in tow, this is probably not the condition I should be striving for.


Maybe my ancestors survived their transatlantic relocations by over-preparing.  Maybe their psyches were soothed in some endurance-promoting fashion by all the loose ends they tied up before departing.  But really, as much as I have to leave town, particularly in recent years,  can I afford the degree of intensity with which I approach embarkation?


The obvious answer is no.  Nor do I want to continue to be the kind of person that performs this comic ritual with regularity.  So today, I'm going to attempt to stop this runaway train, or at least to slow it down as it careens toward that all-too-familiar crash.  I'm going to try for good-enough packing, and let go of my perfectionistic goals and the tendency to continue adding "just one more thing" to my to-do-before-leaving list.  And I'm going to take some deep breaths and some rest breaks as I move through the next 27 hours, so that I can reach my destination without unraveling.


At least, that's the plan.

Procrastinating 101: Stress, Again

Chapter 8 in Marshall Cook's Slow Down...and Get More Done is entitled "Weapons in the War on Stress."  Though I might quibble with his word choice--"weapons" and "war" seem inherently stressful to me--I get where he's coming from.  


Cook begins by telling us something most of us know--and knew even seventeen years ago, when he was penning the book I didn't make time to read back then.  We're all pretty stressed. In fact

Treating stress has become a growth industry, with folks offering pills and potions, massages and mantras, retreats and renewals.

I've often wondered how far back women's magazines began predictably touting the latest "soothing stress busters" and "5 minute fixes" to stop stress.  Or if any of us can remember an entire day going by without using or hearing or reading the word "stress."  


Cook trots out the Holmes and Rahe rating scale, which assigns "stress points" to various life events, and predicts illness based on one's total points in a year.  Naturally, negative occurrences which we all recognize as distressing, such as divorce, the death of a loved one, and getting fired, contribute significantly to our overall stress level.  But even Christmas comes with a stress price tag, as do other positive experiences which involve change and effort.  


Cook mentions psychologist Georgia Witkin's work, which adjusted the Holmes and Rahe scale specifically for women.  In Witkin's version, many situations caused women even greater stress.  For example, Christmas--a 12-point item in the original--was associated with  56 stress points for women.  (Of course!  We're the ones most often stuck with making the whole thing happen!)  And getting married--the third most stressful life event for women-- adds 85 stress points to a woman's life, in comparison to 50 points in Holmes and Rahe's scale.


Cook reviews the work of Hans Selye, which most of us have seen many times by now.  Selye has been called "the father of stress," and was one of the earliest researchers on the subject.  He coined the term "eustress" to refer to the level of stress which is, as Cook puts it, "juuuuust right."  Eustress can enhance performance and heighten experience, and is not associated with negative physical effects.  Optimal levels of stress of individual, and affected by the duration of the stressor, and the way that we respond to it.  "Type-A" and "Type-B" personalities have become shorthand for those who don't and those who do handle stress with equanimity.  And, according to Cook, 

most experts now [sic] agree that to some extent these Type-A or Type-B behaviors are learned rather than inborn.

And that's good news, because, though it may not be easy, what has been learned can be unlearned.


Cook promises to help us learn to relax, get enough sleep, and treat imposed delays as vacations in subsequent chapters.  For now, he offers these three pointers:

Listen to your body.

Don't ignore signs of tension and fatigue.  They're a call for help.  Don't override the call for help with caffeine or alcohol.  Listen and surrender.

Give yourself a break.

Replace the artificiaul and ineffectual boosters and relaxers with a genuine break:  a brisk walk, some deep breathing, even a nap.

Talk back to the stressors.

Rather than serving as passive victim to your emotions and blaming others for your situation, take responsibility for your thoughts and feelings....Instead of reacting, stop and decide how you want to react....[B]reak the event-emotion-reaction chain...by thinking and evaluating before you react.

It's not like this information and advice are uncharted territory for me.  But for some reason, I am drawn to the message again and again.  You would think that at some point it would begin to percolate.  

Done for the Week: Out of Focus

My mind is on the future this morning.  My boys and I leave for New Orleans on Thursday, to visit with my mom and my sister and her family.  In the meantime, I have to get packed and see that they do; finish cleaning the garage; complete arrangements for and attend a crucial board meeting; take delivery on a mattress set to replace the one that we've been sleeping on, which is not older than dirt, but is older than my all-grown-up daughter; replace two critical appliances in our kitchen which are simultaneously giving up the ghost; squeeze in some exercise before heading to the 90+ Louisiana heat; help get my grandson to his first week of preschool; finish my son's homeschool transcripts for online high school and submit them; finish the now-epic upstairs shower repair; get some writing done; get to yoga class; and get prepared to relax while I'm away.  


It's all feeling a bit Herculean.  But here's what I got done last week:


Done List--Week of Sept. 6-12

1. Continued off-season triathlon training--biked once, swam once, despite my gym's erratic hours, due to Jewish holidays, and a weird back spasm triggered by setting coffee pot on the floor
2. Finished Calming Your Anxious Mind:  How Mindfulness & Compassion Can Free You from Anxiety, Fear, & Panic, by Jeffrey Brantley, M.D.
3. Continued significant support to transitioning nonprofit organization
4. Worked my two part-time jobs
5. Published 5 blog posts
6. Meditated 4 times
7. Wrote 6 Gratitude Journal entries
8. Wrote 6 Morning Pages
9. Spent 1/2 day cleaning garage--needs another 1/2 day
10. Ordered new mattress set and arranged delivery
11. Received new tri bike as early birthday present from my husband
12. Attended church
13. Attended 1 yoga class
14. Went out with my husband for Happy Hour; continued reading aloud Elizabeth George's In the Presence of the Enemy
15. Arranged pre-birthday lunch with my sister
16. Took my dog to the dog park twice
17. Saw my therapist
18. Attended organization's Issues Night

In red above is what feels to me like the most important thing that I did this week.  Of course, "receiving" a new tri bike was a lot more active than it sounds.  I had to participate in picking out the bike, get my head around the relatively modest financial outlay--at the low end of triathlon-worthy bikes, but still staggering to me--and deal with my related feelings of guilt and being unentitled.  (Lest I seem too decadent, I should point out that the bike I rode in my first triathlon was a quite respectable, but dirt-cheap Goodwill purchase, improved by a tune-up and the addition of a female-friendly saddle.  I removed the baskets for the race.  But still, I had the discouraging experience of pedaling downhill and watching other riders, on their lighter, more aerodynamic mounts, fly by me, coasting!)  I also had to sign on to the adjustments that riding this better equipment will entail.  (See muscle spasm above.)  But it signifies my continued commitment to triathlon-level exercise as a staple in my life.  And the physical and mental benefits of this enterprise will energize my other efforts and projects.

The attentive reader will notice that nothing is highlighted in green this week.  That is because I failed miserably to accomplish my focus goal for the week, which was "trying to write for 6 hours, and attempting to plan that writing time as if it were athletic training."  Though I continued to blog and to journal daily, not one page was added to my novel this week.  If this were athletic training, I would have experienced serious atrophy by such neglect.   My post mortem reveals that several factors contributed to my difficulty.  


First of all was my erratic work schedule, and other disruptions related to national and religious holidays.  My daughter's work schedule was altered, as it will continue to be throughout September--and this trickles down to me as her childcare provider.  So my search for routine will be challenged for the next few weeks until my life's externals settle down.  


Secondly, my household experienced some significant emotional issues--always hard for me to negotiate without losing focus on my own plans and intentions.  I need to keep working on becoming more "drama-proof."


Thirdly, the organization I work and volunteer for, and in which I have a leadership role, is undergoing major upheaval.  I have been making progress on limiting the hours I donate to bailing as we continue to take on water.  But this week I made a fatal error in showing up at the office too early on a day that was "filled with surprises."  Like most days are, of late.  Needless to say, and turning West Side Story's "Tonight" lyrics on their ear, the "hours seemed like minutes," and before I knew it, the day was gone.


And finally, and probably most importantly, feelings of inadequacy rush in where would-be-novelists fear to type.  I believe that the only cure for the fear that I can't write anything worth reading is to get on with it, and to resolve the question as I go.  So this week's focus goal, trimmed back in recognition of the challenges presented by my upcoming trip, is to spend a couple of hours before I leave on my novel, and to work on believing that I can write it.


Enough said.

Ode to the 11th Hour

The eleventh hour is the last possible moment at which something can be done, or [sic] which problems or solutions might arise. The phrase “at the eleventh hour" became popular in the 19th century, but was in use much earlier. It alludes specifically to the book of Matthew in the New Testament (20:2-16).  This account in Matthew is a parable regarding workers who arrive at the eleventh hour of the workday and are still paid a full day’s wage. [Wise Geek]

So having written yesterday's post (the day before) about working ahead, I am writing today's at the 11th hour about--what else?

The 11th hour is a procrastinator's ace-in-the-hole, Plan B, our saving grace.  


The Urban Dictionary tells us that the phrase is 

[u]sed to describe the final moments of a given event, or situation where change is still a possibility. Right before a deadline.

I procrastinated all night and now, in the 11th hour, I need to work my ass off to finish this report moments before it is due. 

Thesaurus.com gives us this rhapsodic family of synonyms:  

high time, just in time, last minute, nick of time, the last moment, zero hour, last-ditch, desperate, do-or-die, final, frantic, last-chance, last-gasp, last-resort, late, not on time, backward, behind, behind time, behindhand, belated, blown, delayed, dilatory, gone, held up, hung up, in a bind, in the lurch, jammed, lagging, missed the boat, out of luck, overdue, postponed, put off, remiss, slow, stayed, strapped, tardy, too late, unpunctual, latest possible moment, high time, under the wire

I have fond memories of discovering the 11th hour as an undergraduate, along with ultra-caffeinated coffee and cigarettes.  None of these contributed to health, but the heady mixture lent an aura of brilliance--or was it hypomania and sleepless hallucination?--to the products of my all-nighters.  Or so I thought.  It probably didn't help that I managed to get away with this sleight-of-hand all too often.  I had teachers comment, on papers I had pulled out of a hat the night before the semester's end, that I had obviously been working diligently all along, and that my "research" was presented in a balanced and well-organized way.  Such misreadings just fanned the flames of my slovenly study habits and total disregard for time.


I affected a bohemian persona that flitted through life, yanking projects out of the fire, racing against deadlines, always on the brink of disaster.  I thought it was exciting.


I am learning, at this late date (at life's 11th hour?), that there is much to be said for anticipating, for methodical effort, and for beating the rush.  I don't often crunch through those frantic final moments anymore.  I am developing talents other than the high-wire act that was too much a feature of my previous work life.


Tonight, I trust, will be an exception in this new era of working in the daylight.  If it kindles a bit of nostalgia, it is still unlikely to lure me back to my tightrope days--with or without a net.