In the slow times

Sailing upon a vast sea of garter stitch. (Image credit)

My mind feels mushy.

It's like I'm peering out from inside a cloud. It's hard to think or even hold up my head. It's definitely hard to write this.

I hit my limit this week. I had to do some work that is really hard for me. Objectively, it was the same "sit at the laptop and type" as always. But I was fighting a significant amount of resistance. Doing the thinking felt almost physically painful. Maybe it actually was.

I don't remember having such experiences as a child. But in moments like these, I understand my students. I get why putting words on a page or solving a math problem can seem insurmountable. It's not a matter of discipline or work ethic. Like a runner training for a race, there's a limit to how far and how fast you can go on a given day.

The solution requires that we accept the current reality instead of trying to push against it. Meanwhile, there has to be just enough pressure to get us to keep trying, but not so much that we fall apart. Little by little, we can get the job done.

I'm used to having two speeds: Blazingly fast, and OFF. If I am not able to accomplish something quickly and easily, I circle back a few hours or days later and try again. However, during the pandemic, there have been a lot of times when, despite repeated attempts, I still haven't be able to find that ease and speed in time for a deadline. I've had to engage my creeper gear. I've had to sit down and do the work when I was in no mood to do it and it took five times longer than I believed it should. This slowness is agonizing, and I'm learning to live with it.

In the slow times, the work does not deliver reliable hits of dopamine. I enter a different state of being, like the sixth hour of a ten-hour drive. I have to keep doing the thing that gets the result, even if it's a slog. I may be sitting boringly at my desk, but I feel like Leo DiCaprio in The Revenant, trying to survive alone in the wilderness after being attacked by a bear.

It doesn't really matter if this is "normal." It's what I've got to live with. Feeling shame about it or railing against it only compounds the suffering. If I relax and keep breathing into the discomfort, just like I do on those long road trips, I will eventually reach my destination.

During this week's work sessions, I allowed myself plenty of snacks and caffeine and changes of scenery. I took a lot of breaks. However, I don't think any of it really helped the way it usually does. Because once I got into the work, I didn't need the goodies. Turning the radio off doesn't make the time in the car go faster, but it helps you to lose track of time in a way you can’t when the music is on. You're simply in the present moment, and then another, and another, and it's easier to bear. That's the way the work went when I finally found my way there.

I love it when my mind feels clear and sharp. I don't feel that way today, and yet there is still work to be done. Instead of trying to speed up, I will slow down. I will be present with the challenges I face instead of trying to zip to the other side of them. I will breathe, my heart will beat, and I will show up with what I have. I can ask no more of myself.