I was writing my morning pages earlier today when I realized I was doing something that I wasn’t supposed to be doing — writing a “to do” list of all the sidelined tasks that were stressing me out.
“Pick up Midori’s kidney medication.” “Pay electricity, gas, and utility bills.” “Target run for necessities.”
It felt good at first, de-cluttering my mind, adding items to the list, like swatting flies out of the air one at a time. There was a sense of relief each time I eliminated one of the buzzing anxieties, a satisfaction that everything could be dealt with one at a time, in a procedural and orderly fashion.
“Record lines for [redacted] audio drama.” “Respond to [person]’s email with a proposed project timeline.” “Call hospital about recent bill.”
But then… I kept writing. And writing.
“Buy plane tickets for Podcast Movement Evolutions in March.” “Catch up on logging business expenses and receipts.” “FaceTime Mom.”
The list filled one page and went on to the next.
“Plan and record new episodes of the Write Now podcast.” “Re-connect Meet Edgar to social media and begin to queue posts.” “Schedule haircut.” “Record new webinar.” “Fit in a workout every day.” “Respond to backlog of messages and questions in Facebook groups.”
If I had not purposefully stopped, I might still be going. That’s the reason I stopped, in fact — the realization that the list would not stop until I decided to stop it. The understanding that my to-do list was and always would be infinite.
“Research contractors for new deck.” “Re-paint flaking windowsills and doorframes.” “Replant indoor herb garden.”
All of this is outside of the daily workload.
Now, I know it’s not just me. We are all busy, busier than we should be, busier than is humanly possible. And your heart, like mine, may have started racing as you began to consider all of the neglected or sidelined tasks awaiting you in that nebulous cloud of anxiety.
There are of course ways to deal with all of these sidelined to-dos — prioritizing, schedule-blocking, delegating, asking for help, letting go, burning down the house and fleeing into the woods, etc. — but that’s not the point.
The point is that life is impossible in so many ways we never asked or planned for.
The point is that we’re not massive failures if we don’t have the time or energy to Do All The Things™.
The point is that we are stones in a river, the water rushing past us, pressuring us, shaping us, and we must discover and hold fast to the grace that allows us to exist and find meaning and joy despite it all.
Words & warmth,
Sarah