I would like to wish any readers some rather belated New Year wishes. As if by magic, January has frustratedly flown by, and my next post comes to you much later than I had planned – or, at least – hoped.
The title of this post is partly taken from one of Emily Dickinson’s Envelope Poems, which I am always reminded of at the end of a year. ‘In this short Life that only lasts an hour/How much – how little – is within our power’… She writes of living life to the full, how much can change, happen, exist, within a life, contracted to an hour.
But, it is important to note ‘How much – how little’ we can control. There is so much pressure put on the figurative refresh a new year brings, which I have known only too well.
I mentioned in my previous (and only) blog post that I am often filled with big ideas that don’t necessarily happen. I have semi-unknowingly proven this, for over the past three weeks I kicked myself at least twice a day for not writing anything new. Yet, simultaneously, I did expect this to happen. It is no secret that cold January and its associated SAD hits many – I found myself snowed under, in more ways than one…
I could easily spiral into frustration and kick myself again for the lack of productivity, but that is not the point I would like to make.
This clinging to the notion of wiping a slate clean, of starting anew, has become cyclical; not only yearly, but daily, weekly, hourly. I am guilty of trying to combat my Sunday scaries with an ‘I’ll start on Monday’ before bed, or setting timers or rewards for doing the bare minimum. But, I’ve come to terms with the fact that this rarely works. For me, that is.
It was actually a random Tumblr post by a since-deactivated user that struck me a few weeks ago. It said:
NEVER LET YOURSELF BE STOPPED BY WHAT IT WOULD HAVE BEEN LIKE IF YOU STARTED EARLIER!!!!! THE ONLY TIME WE HAVE IS NOW
Its aggressive uppercase has stayed in my mind, and has since become the angel on my shoulder, opposite the constant irritation of self-loathing I get whenever I am less productive than hoped. It is only too often that I upset myself with what-could-have-been-if-I-started-earlier. Instead, it is about time I started to congratulate myself more for doing something, regardless of how long it took. I shouldn’t be ashamed for working a particular way.
Having grown up through varying stages of self-esteem, self-motivation, and self-awareness, I am only now beginning to understand how I work. Harking back, I worked much too hard on my A-Levels (lack of sleep and self-care actually led to a hypothyroidism diagnosis at eighteen). The pressure I put on myself through a perfectionist’s fear of failure and generalised anxiety wasn’t great, needless to say.
Being quite the opposite of busy today, I cannot fathom how I ran on fumes for so long. However, it was questions like these that led me to stop and remind myself of various challenges I have faced since I was a teen; the pandemic, processing trauma, two broken arms… I feel as though I’ve come out of five years of living in survival mode.
It was primarily a COVID-affected university experience that helped me recognise how poorly I worked from home; I found myself close to fifty pre-recorded lectures behind at one point in my second year (2020-21). Prior to then, I had never considered that I could be neurodivergent, and that the lack of structure was simply not helpful.
Skipping to now, I am fairly certain I’m AuDHD (and characteristically procrastinating seeking diagnoses). If I had had more understanding of myself and what works for me years before, I might not have had so much inward anger. But: it is not worthwhile (yet) to reflect on what could have been (watch Rick Glassman discuss his late autism diagnosis with Rainn Wilson).
As I already said, I have only lately been coming to terms with my brain. This reframing of my mind combined with various rounds of CBT, and generally a lot of contemplation has assisted me in knowing my limits, triggers, routines.
I now know what is unsustainable for me and how exercise or work makes me feel better. I now understand that it’s better I stop and sleep, start tomorrow, instead of staying up late, accomplishing little, and inevitably hating myself more. Was I unproductive today, or did my body actually just need a rest? Am I actually incapable of getting this done, or have I just not eaten/taken a break/slept enough?
Now, I would like to say that affirmations such as these have single-handedly fixed the relationship I have with myself. The unpredictability of chronic and mental illness, the nature of life generally, are constant challenges to that. I cannot in any way pretend that my life is perfect because I’ve kind of ‘figured me out’, because I haven’t really yet. I am still a burnt out unemployed twenty-something who hasn’t actually left the house properly in over a week.
There is a lot to go by way of living better – and the best way for me to start that is to reassure myself that although life may sometimes feel like it’s passing me by, it is not worthwhile brooding over could-haves. Amidst adhering to real deadlines, there are some things that will come when ready – me included.
AS YET TO BE 