The gap between "could do" and "do"

For a while, now, I've been thinking about what I should write in this blog.  I have a new blog at adropofcrystalwater.blogspot.com, where I record the little things I do while learning to take care of myself, mainly so that I can keep a count of how much I get to donate to charity:water.  It's not very much of a motivation, but it's something, and having it public keeps me accountable.  But as reading material, it's rather dull.

In this blog, though, I'm used to writing random musings, mainly for the purposes of putting my personality out there, I guess.  I've actually been preparing a series on "what I believe" for this blog, but at the same time wondering if it was worth writing on that subject at all.  Sure, I have interesting beliefs, some of them worthy, some of them silly, and some of them downright painful, and I'm good at explaining things ... But I don't want to be that person who tries to convert people to her belief system, just for the sake of having people agree with her.  I'm no evangelist, and so the idea of writing down what I believe doesn't seem like something that would be entertaining to others.  All it would do is let me clarify my thoughts.

So, if I'm not only going to write about what I believe, what can I write about?  Well, one of my strengths is brainstorming for exhaustive lists, so here goes:

All about me:
- what I believe
- what I want
- what I like
- what I hate
- what I love
- what I've seen
- what I've heard
- what I've noticed
- what I've thought about
- how I feel
- what I've been told
- what I've done
- what I wish for
- what I avoid
- what I'm afraid of
- what I know
- what I've learned
- what I've read/been shown
- what I remember

The world around us:
- what other people do
- what other people say
- how things work
- what things mean
- what other people might think
- what might help other people
- how people interact with each other
- what consequences actions might have
- about places
- about people I know
- about people I've met or noticed
- about imaginary places
- about imaginary people
- about situations and emotions
- about objects, aesthetics and functions
- about concepts and relations
- about things to do

Of course, many of these things link together.  So, for example, a discussion of something I've seen might link in with what I've thought about it, what kind of beliefs I have and why, and what I know about how things work.  It's more than likely that in attempting to write on one topic, I would branch off into tangents that range through each of the others and expand n them.  The problem is that I can't write down everything I'd like to, because there simply isn't enough time to collect all my thoughts and put them into words; and I'd like some universal theme.  And there, I have to make a choice.

Looking at the two lists above, a couple of things stick out at me.  Firstly, I'm most comfortable writing about things that relate to myself.  There are a few reasons for this, but mainly it's because I've recently gone through a period of spending a lot of time alone, trying to learn about myself, and also because I've always had an inclination towards analysis and reflection.  Also, there's a sense of uniqueness to it, as though I'm something of an expert: hardly anybody else is going to write from my point of view.

The second thing I noticed is related: In order to write about anything other than myself, I feel that I would have to go out and experience things more than I currently am doing.  I tend to involve myself in what other people think and feel, rather than taking detailed observations of other aspects such as the words they say, the way things look or where things are.  On the other hand, I also have an interest in technology and science, which makes me interested in how things work, and how to explain them to other people so they'll understand.  But actually going out and observing these things, finding people and concepts and situations, seems to be work that would take more time than I have. 

The irony of this is that to look at my life at the moment, I would seem to have nothing but time.  I'm currently unemployed, but in a relatively comfortable situation supported by my husband, in a middle-class society, so in theory I'm free as a bird.  I have very few actual obligations, and mostly my time is my own.  I have reasonable physical health, and an active mind that feels relatively flexible, so in theory I could be doing ... anything I wanted.  But what I'm actually doing is ... not very much at all.

It's the diversity of choice that is becoming a problem for me at the moment.  The list of things I could write about is a pale reflection of the seemingly-infinite list of things I could be doing.  But I cannot do everything I could do; I cannot even do everything I want to do; there isn't enough time in a lifetime, let alone enough time to fit it all in now.  As always ... I have to choose.

I hate choices.

So, for once in my life, it's time to focus my thinking - and my writing - on the choices I make.  And because I tend towards reflection and thought rather than action, to the point that I end up doing very little ... I need to turn around and focus on what I want to do.  Because all this thinking and analysis can come to nothing, if I don't actually do anything as a result. 

I will, of course, be bringing all my thoughts and reflections to the table in making these decisions about what I want to do, and when.  And when I've done something, and have something to show for it - only then will I be able to tell you about whether my beliefs and opinions are worthwhile.  But until then, I'll concentrate on writing the story of how I decide what to do, and how well I can carry it out.

Ordering a Life

What do you do when life leaves you with nothing to do, and all the time in the world to do it in?

For some people, this is called a holiday. It may be a welcome break from the constant demands of working life. But for others, it can become a lifestyle. And it gradually becomes a hole that is very difficult to get out of.


In August last year, I took extended sick leave from my job. I found that the pressures of being a first-year doctor required a lot more energy than I had. Don't get me wrong, I loved my job. But after five months of working, my energy levels were low to the point that I would take at least a day off every fortnight because I couldn't get out of bed, and at work every afternoon around lunchtime I started feeling exhausted and by 3 I would need a nap. Hardly compatible with full-time work. So, despite the fact that I got an excellent report from the last team I worked with, it was decided that I would take leave until I felt better. (I think the excellent report was something to do with the fact that when I was there, I was doing my job as well as replacing other people who were supposed to be there but weren't. :P)

We'd already planned to take a holiday in early September - went off skiing. But after that, and after Smith went back to his job, there was nothing much for me to do. As far as I knew, my job was to get better so I could go back to work. But what would that involve? I didn't know.

Medical investigations had been organised to work out if there was any medical reason for my exhaustion. All I had to do was wait for them and then wait for the results. (In the end, there was no convincing medical reason.) In the meanwhile ... I slept. Seemed like the right thing to do, when I was so tired.

September, October, November ... I think I lost three months of my life.

I certainly can't remember doing anything worthwhile. I wasn't particularly enjoying myself, either. A lot of the time I would sleep until midday, or 1pm. I'd get up, mooch about on the computer a bit, maybe go back to bed. Computer time was spent reading webcomics, playing Insaniquarium or LOTRO, and doing puzzles. In the afternoon I'd nap again, wake up when Smith made dinner, and then sleep; or stay up late playing LOTRO. To tell the truth, I don't remember much about that period. It wasn't much of a life.

Nice work if you can get it, you might say. A life of leisure, with a job to go back to when I was ready (but how would I know I was ready?). Loving husband. Every need met. Capable of doing anything I wanted to do. No time pressures. No financial pressures, thanks to my husband's job. No obligations.

From another perspective, I was a bum. A highly privileged one, to be sure, but still a bum, leeching off my husband.

Of course, I'm not what you'd think of as your typical bum. You know the kind: the guy who lives in his mother's basement, on the computer all day (or all night, doesn't matter which) but doing nothing productive, doesn't cook, clean, wash or take care of himself, baulks at the idea of getting a job or even studying. In the 50s he'd be hanging out on street corners, 'bumming' cigarettes off his friends, in the 80s he'd be at the garage talking about all the cars he'd love to do up. But your privileged bum of the 21st century ... well, I sure acted like it. A female version, at least. You couldn't even call me a housewife, I wouldn't have met that standard by any stretch.

Naturally, I didn't recognise it at the time. There aren't many bums in medical circles :P And of course, nobody thinks of themselves as a bum, because the concept that comes to mind when you think of a bum is of how unfair it is on the people around him, that he isn't pulling his weight. Nobody likes to think of themselves that way. Even my husband was kind enough to think of it as me being ill, and that one day I'd get better; he'd support me until then. He knew I was capable of much more, and he figured I'd get back to it one day.

And the way it looks from the inside ... of course there's that nagging feeling that you're not being a productive member of society, and you're not even really enjoying yourself. For some people, I imagine that feeling is easily overruled by the simple ego-feeding thrills of whatever it was they're spending time on - World of Warcraft, or an addiction like gambling at the poker machines. For others, it is strong, the sense that you're a dead weight on the people around you, and that you really could be doing more with your life ... if only you knew how, or what. But it also feels like there are insurmountable obstacles in your path. For me, I knew there was more to life, but I didn't feel I had the energy, or the motivation, to do anything. It was all just too hard. This inner struggle in itself weighed down on me, the feeling that I couldn't do anything I wanted to do, I didn't know what would become of my career ... a cloud constantly in the background dampening my mood, blunting my emotions.

---------

If you recognise this as a picture of yourself ... well, I'm writing a series of posts for you. I've gradually, very slowly, pulled myself out of that hole, using nothing but willpower I didn't know I needed, didn't know I had, borrowing strength from the people around me. I think it's time to detail how I did it, because when it comes to a hole like this, only you can pull yourself out, no matter how many hands are reaching in to help you. But know this: There is a way out.

There is a way out.

Don't expect any startling revelations from me, though. Everything I am going to say has been said many times before. I'm not advertising any miracle product or ten-week program (You too can be shiny and successful!) No, it is all common sense that you have heard from your parents and from society ... you might even be sick of hearing it by now. The big surprise is: it works.

You don't need money. You don't need any special powers of the intellect. You don't need any special circumstances (although, come to think of it, this would be kind of difficult if you didn't have a place to live, even temporarily). Your tools are a watch, maybe a pen and paper, and the wherewithal to get out there and take care of yourself, and then others. And while it won't be easy - I plan on detailing as many pitfalls as I can think of - it can be done.

The key word, of course, is 'done'. This is a process that you must do, you cannot simply 'become' (although popular culture would love to tell us you can!) No, you must act.

Currently these are the steps I have taken:

1: Realise that you could be doing something worthwhile. (This step took the longest.)
2: Take steps to obtain the energy you would need for doing it. In other words, take good care of yourself.
3: Seek support, and recognise support when it is being offered.
4: Actually write down things you could be doing.
5: Try to do some of the things you want to do.
6: Recognise the barriers in your way, and find out which ones are within yourself.
7: Realise that everything takes time, but only a certain amount of time.
8: Plan your time concretely, and realistically.
9: Endure your first big relapse into old habits, and come out of it realising why it happened and how to limit or avoid it next time.

Of course, this isn't a complete list; I'm not yet where I want to be. In fact, I've just come through my first big relapse into amotivation and fatigue. (I didn't go back to LOTRO, but there was a lot of Insaniquarium. I did do something every day, though.) But eventually - on March 31, to be exact - I will be going back to work. And by then, I plan to be ready. I'll keep you posted on how I go.

In the meantime, though, I will be going into each of the above steps in more detail. I hope that, one day, someone finds this useful (although I don't have that many readers just yet). Just remember:

It can be done.