I have been struggling lately with a feeling of paralysis.
It started with the weather keeping me at home staring at a desk piled high with things to do. Then, as the Christmas season’s shopping days grew fewer, my current budget scared me straight into a comatose state of denial. Finally, with the sudden death of my father-in-law last week (and all the emotions associated with it), the numbness towards getting anything accomplished set in just like the sleet has done with the snow – creating a icy layer keeping me emotionally stiff and cold.
My motivation to keep up with the blog (or anything) has been buried with every inch of snow that has fallen. I’ve been hoping for this storm to ease up, but what if this snow keeps falling for quite some time burying that motivation so deep that I can’t get it back until spring (which is June here in the PNW)? At this point, my natural tendency is to begin outlining some ridiculous 2009 resolutions. It is obvious to me, however, that the problem I’m having has less to do with what I know and has much more to do with not knowing what I feel. This little Ice Queen needs to thaw – and quickly.
Usually, I turn to either the bookshelf or internet to give me some quick tips to get things rolling, but I suspect one of the reasons for my overall ‘blockage’ has been my information overload. I spend hours seeking information and planning for projects. Constant information-seeking behavior (particularly through emails, web searches and social networking sites) can distract you to the point of never getting anything accomplished. I have realized that, if I ever want to see any motivation, my situation needs to be handled by bringing more of the inside info outward rather than shoving more info inward.
So, as I am surrounded by my seemingly endless piles of magazines and articles, staring at the computer screen (with seven minimized sites pending review), gripping an empty mug of coffee (four cups and counting in less than one hour) and sitting in front of my glass door watching the next layer of snow begin to fall (17″ of snow right now with layers of sleet) – I ask myself: “Who am I?”
Having lived in Spokane for four years, I learned the value in routinely shoveling the snow from the porches, driveways and sidewalks – even if it keeps falling. It may seem silly to be out there while it’s dumping on you, but shoveling six inches is a lot easier than shoveling a foot. The same is true for keeping those emotional paths routinely ‘shoveled’, too – better to stay on top of things before you find yourself buried and with no way out. That is where I am. By accumulating too much information in order to know more, I have become overwhelmed with all the shoveling needed – freezing me to the point of feeling less.
My cross-country skis sat in the garage when all that snow fell a few days ago. I effectively talked myself out of hitting the walking trails by using excuses like my Raynaud’s, lupus, banged up knee, and being out of shape. Yet with each excuse grew my resentment about how my heart was not being heard. Not getting out there to ski the other day was another reminder that I am someone I don’t recognize anymore emotionally. I am focusing on spending my days learning about how I could live my life with illness, but my lack of knowing how I feel about it stops me from being the person I am. I have grown to limit myself physically in order to avoid flares and I’ve ended up limiting my heart to avoid life. I can’t blame lupus for that – it’s been all me.
How easy it is to procrastinate when you are emotionally clouded by the build up of fear and stress-
Many of the resources to get around procrastination are very strong in the planning department – thing is, though, planning is just another exercise in procrastinating from action. How many of us make those resolutions or lists only to throw them out with the recycling within a week? That uncomfortable gap between what you know and what you do is what social psychologists refer to as Cognitive Dissonance, and I’ve got it bad. As I work throughout the day trying to learn and write about living with lupus, I end up completely ignoring the living part. Thus, I don’t live at all and just have lupus. I was trying to motivate myself with fear and that, my friends, is stupid.
If you’ve ever been cross-country skiing, then you know the workout and beauty this sport offers. Some of the pleasures in this type of skiing is being able to choose your trail, set your own pace (rather than have gravity do it for you) and to have some freedom in your steps without being completely bound to the ski (your heel is free to move). You can glide along groomed trails or telemark some new adventurous ones. Every experience is different~ limited only by your stamina and flexibility, physically and emotionally.
I have to get out the door, though. In order to overcome my mental limitations, I must step outside. To overcome any physical limitations that arise, I must negotiate – not give up.
Those paths through the snow (both inside and outside) aren’t going to be cleared anytime soon, but I am certain that I will get through them more quickly if I get out of my snow cave (i.e. my head) more frequently. I’m getting those skis out right now, even for just a little while, because it’s important to me. I will then finally be able to see some of my tracks (or sitzmarks: holes made in the snow by a skier who has fallen backward bum first) ~ either way, it’ll be progress…
…and this time starting from the inside out.
