It’s been quiet around here. Not because I have nothing to say, but because by the time I look around to find the time to say it, I’d far rather not. So today I’m going to pause, breathe, and ask why don’t I want to write right now? What’s getting in the way?
Overwhelm
We know this feeling. There is just so much going on in life, how do we prioritise the right thing? What even is the right thing to prioritise?
I’ll be honest, it hasn’t just been writing that has suffered from overwhelm. In general a whole bunch of life factors have been struggling. This morning I went for a run for the first time in about three weeks. I haven’t been stagnant sitting on the couch doing nothing, but I also haven’t been able to convince myself that at 7 am I should be going for a run. Keeping up with the strength training the biokineticist assigns me falls off the list faster than dropping a hot potato (spoiler, potatoes are better than strength training).
So if I can’t keep up the things which are important to my physical health, how much harder is it to keep up the things which are purely for my mental health, or worse, are just because I can? So I prioritise the critical items. No matter how down I am, the dog gets fed. I still get my work done, attending meetings, pushing code, nit-picking PRs.
Pain
I hate talking about pain. It is so deeply subjective and personal that I find it hard to justify. What does it mean for me to be in pain compared to you? Even the 1 – 10 scale is something I struggle to maintain a lock on.
Add to that the weird shame factor – it is definitely okay by me if someone else is in pain, but if I am in pain I should be able to operate at 100% efficiency. Otherwise I have to admit that I have failed to maintain the physical form which I inhabit. So only those closest to me will ever see me admit to being impaired by pain (if I can help it). I don’t think this is healthy, but it still shines through. It is also a valid reason why I might not be doing all the things I want to be doing.
So yes. Pain is a real part of my life on an almost daily basis. From the self-inflicted pain of delayed onset muscle soreness (DOMS) to the (almost) inexplicable burning of the nerves in my legs. Or the inflammation response which flares up from time to time. Or any number of a litany of minor aches and pains. When they all compound together they can be quite distracting, leaving me not wanting to do more of certain types of tasks. Including writing.
I’ll mention too that because of the nature of the pain I have dealt with over the years I have never built an association between pain and painkillers. Most headaches are improved but not removed by taking paracetamol. Other types of pain might be eased by muscle relaxants but not completely. The one that I do get right is sinus pain. Entirely because the medication works the way I expect it to, and does so reliably. Take a pill, and the face pain goes away. When that is not the general experience, pain is something you simply normalise rather than dealing with.
Discipline
Hebrews 12:11
No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.
Well if that isn’t an indictment. Yeah, so part of the point of blogging is similar to why I am supposed to do Single Leg Romanian Dead Lifts. Different muscle. I should be working on my ability to tell a story in a coherent manner with words and grammar that make sense. I should also be working on my glutes and hamstrings so that when I run I don’t cause myself more pain.
The discipline vanishes as soon as it becomes optional. As soon as the accountability goes away, I wonder why I sit at my desk after hours and try to bash out the words. Or I become easily distracted, letting myself spend the time and energy on work when I should be spending it on self-enrichment.
Discipline and accountability are really hard in my experience. Part of that is the neurosparkles. Part of it is just that I don’t like needing people. Although in a way that might be the same thing. You see, I am super responsible and accountable to my work commitments. Or to commitments where it is clear that if I don’t do the thing that I said I would there will be disappointment from people I actually have to interact with. When it comes to commitments to myself though, even if I ask people to hold me to them, they are all super forgiving because the stakes are lower.
If the stakes were higher it would get done.
The answer is not to raise the stakes. That doesn’t sound healthy at all, and I’ve already decided that I have some red flags I probably shouldn’t be scattering over the internet.
Answers?
The only answer I have is to show myself grace. To accept that the streak (such as it was) has been broken, and that’s okay. It is one of the reasons I don’t do gamification. If I refuse to engage with it, it cannot leave me feeling guilty and like a failure. Instead, I do my best, and hold myself to a respectable standard. That means some months I am far less than I would like. Other months I manage to achieve my goals. So long as the critical points get hit (do my work, feed the dog, feed the humans) I’ll probably survive.
To thrive, though, I need to do a little more. I need to spend time with community. I need to build relationships. I need to do all those things which I find so desperately difficult when I am overwhelmed and exhausted. I don’t have a good answer to that aspect. So I’ll give myself the grace to know I don’t have to do all the things all the time. When I’m healthy enough is OK.
Pippa Hillebrand 