Good for what ails me

There are times that I'm convinced I have adult onset ADD. (And, you know, maybe I really do.) Sometimes I'm so scattered between my roles--mom, wife, student, researcher, etc.--that I can't settle my thoughts enough to make progress on anything, especially when I'm working from home where there are ample distractions and all of those roles bleed into each other.  Maybe that sounds familiar?

These tips have been helpful to me lately*:

1. Do what matters most to you: assess and choose. (Cultivate lilies, get rid of leeches)

2. Create a positive emotional environment wherever you are.

3. Find your rhythm. Prioritize and use your "burst" wisely (whether it's in the morning, afternoon, or evening)

4. Invest time wisely.

5. Don't waste time screensucking. 

6. Identify + control "gemmelsmerch," the force that distracts the mind away from what it wants to be doing : do important work first, limit tv, take breaks and carry on, have a new idea notebook, schedule email time, ELIMINATE TOXIC WORRY (talk to someone, make a plan, get the facts)

7. Delegate

8. Slow down

9. Don't "frazz": give one task your full attention

10. Play

And finally, Live YOUR Life.  Be the captain of your life and make decisions that reflect your dreams and priorities, whether or not that fits exactly with the standard.  Celebrate your own contributions and ideas.

*notes from reading Dr. Hellewell's book CrazyBusy: Overstretched, Overbooked and About to Snap! Strategies for Coping in a World Gone A.D.D 

Lighted paths

I've never been one of those people who knew exactly what she wanted to be when she grew up or, even now, to know the precise answer to the question "so what are you going to do with a PhD when you're done?"

No, where some people seem to have a laser sharp, bright beam of light that sees all the way to the end of the path, I walk in more of a fuzzy glow.  I carry a lantern that illuminates just enough ahead for me to know where to place my next step.  It's not that I'm not certain I'm in the right place right now. It's just that I don't necessarily know where those steps might lead.

Because of that, I've always had a soft spot in my heart for this quote:

Don't worry about what you will do next.  If you take one step with all the knowledge you have, there is usually just enough light shining to show you the next step.

(Terry Tempest Williams quoting Mardy Murie in her commencement speech at the University of Utah, May 2003)

I count on this to be true.

Happy New Year!

A favorite

How to Climb a Mountain

Make no mistake. This will be an exercise in staying vertical. 

Yes, there will be a view, later, a wide swath of open sky,

but in the meantime: tree and stone. If you're lucky, a hawk will

coast overhead, scanning the forest floor. If you're lucky,

a set of wildflowers will keep you cheerful. Mostly, though,

a steady sweat, your heart fluttering indelicately, a solid ache

perforating your calves. This is called work, what you will come to know,

eventually and simply, as movement, as all the evidence you need to make

your way. Forget where you were. That story is no longer true.

Level your gaze to the trail you're on, and even the dark won't stop you.

~Maya Stein

One nudge at a time

 

We all sat in a circle, 15 or so doctoral students and our proseminar leader.  Proseminar is a cross between group therapy and staff meeting, where we talk about how it's going and receive direction on next steps.

On our minds that day: the balance. How to have a life while you're a grad student.

Two of us are moms--what a lucky thing for both of us to have each other--so the balance between our real life and our student life is a constant topic for us.  But everyone else struggles with this, too.  One woman wants to have children at some point during the program.  Others are dating or engaged.  One or two brave souls are maintaining jobs and adding doctoral studies to their loads.  As we discussed strategies about how to get it all done and still stay sane, our professor offered his theory of rotating neglect. "Anytime you're doing anything, you're neglecting something else.  That's life. Get used to it. The key is to choose whatever needs doing and focus on it and then rotate to the next item." (He said it more sympathetically that it reads.)

Maybe, I think.  But isn't that looking at the glass half-full? How can that ever feel satisfying--rotating neglect?

I think of life as a student + mom like this:  There's a line of boulders.  Big, heavy monstrous boulders that I have to move from that place right here to over there beyond the horizon.  An impossible job to do in one fell swoop, it requires nudges.

There are several boulders representing parts of my program (coursework, papers, internship, qualifying papers, dissertation).  Of course there are family boulders, household boulders, friend/sister/daughter/service boulders.  Every day I try to nudge a few.  Research articles for a paper (nudge). Make a few phone calls to get needed work done on our plumbing (nudge). Outline a possible QP (nudge). Grade five papers (nudge+). Of course, some boulders really need daily nudging or they slide backwards (family ones, obviously) and I try to spend some good blocks of time with them.  But mostly, if I give a nudge to five boulders I call it good enough and feel (relatively) peaceful.  Tomorrow, more nudges.

It's all about the increments, baby.

I had forgotten I had mentioned my boulder theory until a colleague dropped it into a conversation six months or so later ("I just nudged one of those boulders!"). Since then it's become kind of a code word for some of us. A mantra to talk us off of the ledge of anxiety.

Every once in a while I'll look back and see a sad (yes, neglected) boulder way back there and realize I need to make it a priority for a bit (usually it's the negotiable, non-deadline things like my own research). So I adjust.  In one respect, I'm just nudging boulders inches at a time.  In the big picture, I'm strengthening and moving and getting there, one nudge at a time.