It’s one of those days: I can’t believe how trapped I feel, how overwhelming every task appears, and how lousy my hair looks. It’s all tangled together, of course, this sense of being unequal to the task of making it through the day. Trapped, overwhelmed, and unattractive: The Monday Trifecta. The fact that it isn’t even Monday only makes it worse.
And I’m the humor lady, right? The irony isn’t lost on me. I’m the one who spends her time talking about how fabulous everything is if only you can only see how the absurdities of life add to—rather than detract from—our lives. Hahaha. Ha.
OK, so let’s figure this one out, shall we?
Let’s start with the hair. It probably looks no different to anybody except for me, if only because not one person on earth is thinking about the top of my head. So what if I think I make Elsa Lancaster in The Bride of Frankenstein look like she’s having a good hair day.
Nobody cares. And I need to remember that this is a good thing.
My husband, a nice man, would notice my coiffure if it were radically changed—for example, if it were on fire—but otherwise remains unaware of my beauty regime. If I use Paul Mitchell, that’s great. If I use Crisco, that’s great, too.
My students notice only that I have hair, which sets me apart from many of their other professors, even some of the men. If I came into class wearing a rubber bathing cap or a helmet they might look twice, but because they are so absorbed in their own appearance issues, they aren’t spending time worrying about mine. This much I’ve learned after 23 years of classroom teaching.
How about overwhelmed? I’m behind on a whole bunch of projects and have nobody to blame but myself. I shouldn’t have agreed to meet deadlines smushed so close together that they are tripping on one another’s heels. I knew better even when I was saying “yes” but I didn’t say “no” to any of them because they all represented good opportunities.
They still do—only these opportunities carry with them the burden of completion. How wonderful they seemed when autumn seemed whole calendar months away, these deadlines. I could have worked harder all summer, but instead I slept and read and slept some more. I think we ate out a few times and watched a couple of movies. I don’t think I wasted my time, but unless I actually slept through July (which is possible) I can’t account for my use of my time.
What was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking about myself in the third week of September, I’ll tell you that much. I would have worked every day, making great leaps and filling pages with wise and witty lines. But I put off the debt of my work until now, when both literal and metaphorical bills are coming due. This means putting in extra shifts in order to complete my tasks. Too bad, right? But I’ll finish them eventually (as I have done before) and maybe I’ll know better next time. Maybe.
And this feeling of being trapped? Who am I kidding? I’m not in a cage; I’m not even in a small locked room. If I feel trapped it’s because I am momentarily unable to move, and not because something is keeping me enclosed. I’m free to do—or not do—whatever I choose. The world will not end if I screw up—if I’m late, or if I need more help with editing than I usually require, or if I’m not living up to what I know is the best I can manage. This sense of being paralyzed is only a manifestation of my own fear. To realize that I am not trapped I need to get moving. I need to put words on a page and get ideas into some kind of order, imperfect as they might be (and as they always are), and show myself that I can begin.
It’s not escape from writing I need; it’s permission to do it. I alone can provide that for myself.
OK. This, even this, is a start.
crossposted with Psychology Today
5 Responses to Can’t Get Out of Your Own Way? Me Neither.
pkballhaus - September 28, 2010 at 10:39 am
Dear Gina, You say the world will not end if you screw up–perhaps not, but the world WILL notice. By now, there are many people waiting impatiently for your thoughts, advice, wisdom–your books, essays, columns AND lectures. It sounds like you’ve forgotten how connected your writing is to the world–how attached much of the world has become to you.Some writers are paralyzed when they forget that others are listening and reading and waiting. They feel like a voice crying in the wilderness, and so of course a good night’s sleep, a visit to the hair salon, anything feels more relevant than putting more words into the world.But not in your case. So get moving, because we need you. And even more important, we ENJOY needing you, and as a humorist, you’re simply obliged to make us laugh (in the most intelligent possibly way) for as long as you possibly can!
deanette - September 28, 2010 at 9:07 pm
Everybody feels this way and it’s good to see it written down.
bumblebuzz88 - September 29, 2010 at 9:15 am
Your Tuesday is certainly my Wednesday. However, some of your former students did pay attention to your hair if only to figure out whether or not they could pull up their curls like you! The deadlines will be met and we will get to enjoy reading your articles! For some of us, sitting in front of the computer reading your words is our attempt to make up for no longer being able to sit in our former desks in your class!
klb33 - September 29, 2010 at 2:05 pm
I cannot agree with you more….This September feels like its in fastforward and no one can find the remote to slow it down. But just keep going to bed at a reasonable hour (before the Late Show ends…), waking up early (before the Today Show is over), finding time to make,sit down, and eat a meal, and making time to laugh… at almost everything. If we all can do this, we’ll all be fine… I hope?…and you’re hair looks great.
v8573254 - September 30, 2010 at 9:05 am
I thought only my shrink had to listen to someone complaining how she couldn’t make herself write what she had to.