hurtling towards something better?
defeating despair by writing post-its to myself and tackling doompiles
Over the last few weeks, I’ve had an overwhelming sense of something big being around the next corner. Maybe it’s due to the sheer volume of big shit happening in the world—who knows?
Call it a hunch or a tingle, but I can’t help feeling expectant and…positive. And I feel the need to blast this at you with the caveat that I do understand the state of the US, the world, and on a more granular level, the state of publishing. For someone who’s spent their years post-MFA wondering when the hell their brain will start believing they can actually write a novel, I’m gonna go with the tingle for awhile and see where it gets me. Delusional, maybe. But I’d rather delude myself right now. The other option is despair.
In effort to challenge said despair to a battle of wits, a la the Princess Bride (and hoping I come out on the side of Westley and not the other guy), these are some things I’ve been doing.
something to look forward to
A cluttered calendar might give the illusion of productivity, but for me, it rarely contains enough social outings, date nights, etc. Last week, I bought the plane tickets for a trip to California in September. It’s a research and writing trip, but also just a chance to get to know one of my friends better.
I know in the past when I’ve been in the “why does it even matter when—fill in the blank” headspace, looking at my calendar feels disheartening. Either it’s too full of things I need to do or not stacked with interesting, fulfilling excursions. I’m trying my best to text my friends to hang out when I feel like it instead of making a reminder for myself to do it later. That just makes what should be fun into a task. Seeing friends shouldn’t feel like something you can fail at.
tackle the doompiles
I’ve never been a neat person. But when I’m in a depression, any notion of neatness I might have goes out the window. I do, however, concede that my brain operates better when I don’t have piles of junk in my eye line distracting me. My partner and I have been on a purging spree lately. We donate, resell, or recycle the majority of the stuff, but I’m proud of myself for keeping things I actually want to keep. I don’t want to feel guilty for my collections, or for how many books I have that I might not ever read, or yarn that I might never knit with. Maybe it’s okay just to enjoy having it there as an option for Future Me.
I used to think of cleaning in a binary: either clean everything or just live with the mess. Instead, I’ve been tackling a pile (like the one I’m staring at next to my desk that seems to be knitting patterns I’ve printed out and several old calendars) and then letting that be enough for now.
post-its everywhere
My workday usually consists of sitting (or standing) at my desk for several hours at a time. Writing, researching, belly aching. Why not remind myself:
YOU ABSOLUTELY CAN WRITE A SHITTY FIRST DRAFT!
JUST DON’T BACK TRACK. KEEP GOING!
We have about a thousand different options for apps to remind us of whatever the hell at any given time of the day. I even had an app for awhile that sent me mantras and encouragements that I’m 99.9% certain were written by AI, come to think of it. We know best how our minds work. Reminding ourselves of things we know will come back to bite us might look odd to somebody walking into our offices, but guess what? I don’t really have office visitors much. And even if I did, they’d probably be more concerned about the amount of plants and dolls I have to even think about the reminder post-its.
Our dryer broke so I finally had to put away my emotional support clean laundry pile so I had a laundry basket to use so I could haul the wet clothes to the front bathroom to hang in the shower we don't use to dry. I had that emotional support clean laundry pile for 2? more? years. I'll miss her but not really.
Look at us go!