How to Sabotage Yourself...in one easy step

I'm beginning to think that my brain hates me. Or perhaps that I'm just my own worst enemy. Thinking, and particularly overthinking, has been the bane of my existence. I've done more to sabotage me than anyone could ever do. The moment I decide on something, there is a tiny voice in the back of my mind that starts to ask questions like, "do you really think that's a good idea", or "do you even know how to do that", or even "why do you think anyone would be interested in that". 

This has affected my social interactions, my writing, my work life, and recently my blogging. I spend so much time thinking about doing something, and whether it's a good idea, that I do nothing. I sit paralyzed, listening to the voices in my head tear down my ideas. A decent story idea suddenly seems hackneyed. Then completely cliche. And then the voice likes to tell me that I'll never have any original ideas. That I'm not a good writer, friend, person. It's a horrible type of paralysis.  

After years of this I understand why so many writers and painters were alcoholics. They are drowning out those little voices. They are keeping them busy. I haven't gone that route yet, don't worry. I've found music instead. If I can listen to music (as I'm doing now) I can keep that little voice busy listening to lyrics while I type away. Of course this doesn't work well for social interactions but I'm working on that. 

I've read hundreds of self-help articles on how to get rid of these voices, or at least how to quiet them. They've suggested meditation, self-hypnosis, segmentation, even the music treatment I use. I've used free writing, self encouragement, and even mantras. One day I will learn a perfect solution to tune them out. Until then I have to do as Nike suggests and "just do it". Just do what you want to do and let time determine if something is good or not. More often then not, a bit of time and distance, makes things look clearer. 

"Don't think about making art, just get it done. Let everyone else decide if it's good or bad, whether they love it or hate it. While they're deciding, make even more art." --Andy Warhol

Blocked

I've been dealing with some writers block recently and it has started affecting the blog. Normally I can still blog while I struggle to put things on paper in all the other areas of my life. These last couple weeks it's been different. I've even struggled to read. I pick up books and put them down minutes later. I don't remember the last time I had this much trouble doing the things I love.

I've also been thinking too much about all the things I've had to do. Work has been crazy and stressful and I feel like I need to be constantly productive in order to keep up. I was telling a friend just tonight about how when I feel overwhelmed I tend to become paralyzed. I think that's what's been happening. I think about the four billion things that I feel I should be doing, including blogging, and I can't seem to start anything. Once I do start something, I get through it and can move on. But I need those wake up calls to remind me of how to be productive.

This past weekend was one of those wake-up calls. We had a good friend come into town who I've known for almost 15 years now. We packed the weekend full but still had a lot of time to talk. It was amazing to just relax. I've forgotten how much I need it. Last night I sat down and finished the book I had been struggling on for weeks. I'll talk about it soon but I was just happy to dedicate a couple hours to reading. And I was happy to want to read. Now I'm happily moving on to a new book...or two...or three.

Tonight I'm writing a post. This isn't much of a post but it is at least something. My spell is hopefully broken. And I'll get back to regular blogging. But this is just my way of breaking that block. Get something out. I have a quote at work from a writer who talks about how she writes. She talks about those days where the writing flows and she feels good. When asked about the days when it doesn't flow, she responded that she scribbles nonsense until things start to make sense. That's what I feel like this post is, the nonsense I need to get through, for the rest of the words to flow. Here's hoping it works.

Here's the actual quote from the interview rather than my poor paraphrase:
From Marsha Diane Arnold:
Do you have any rituals in your work habits? If so describe them.

I prepare a cup of hot tea or herbs. I sit in my chair. I turn on my computer. I light a candle. I call to my muse. I stare at the screen or the last words I wrote. I sit. I sit some more. If I’m lucky, wondrous words come. If wondrous words don’t come, I scribble nonsense until they do.

Going Without

The internet at home has been....unreliable is the word I'll use. I've used others before but few of them are appropriate here. We got a couple days of good reliable service and then it will conk out for a half a day. Originally we thought it was the construction going on in front of the house but I guess it is the modem. Jeff finally fixed it yesterday and did the set-up. But we were down until about 10:30 last night.

I am surprised about how much this upsets me. I can live without TV and shockingly I can live without movies. But you take my internet away and lately I'm at a complete loss. So last night I met my parents for dinner (thanks Mom and Dad), went to the book store and bought Ish by Peter Reynolds, and then went home to take a bath and read. I scanned my shelves and grabbed a book to read but it wasn't until I was already in the bathtub that I reconsidered my choice of books. Night by Elie Wiesel is not a story to relax to. But it is an excellent book to shut me up when I start to whine.

I'd never read Elie Wiesel's memoir of his time spent at Auschwitz and Buchenwald. Even though the book has been lauded as a classic and that it is assigned in most high schools I had somehow never read it. It's not a long book. I finished it over a three hour period of time, but it is an immensely powerful story. The struggle and the horror that he (and others) went through are beyond my comprehension. I was sickened by the treatment in the camps and by the terrible deaths that awaited so many. It was very much the stuff of nightmares. I was shocked by the terrible struggle to survive that happened every day and by the brutality that humans (both captors and captives) were capable of. And I was shamed by my own lack of perspective.

I've been a little spoiled throughout my life in that I've never really had to struggle terribly for anything. My parents were generous (sometimes to a fault) and I've never had to worry about where my next meal was coming from. I've lived in comfortable houses with plenty of access to clothing and food and bathing. I've never had to fight anyone for anything. So as I lay in my hot bath last night, thinking about how terrible it was that my internet was down, I was reminded in brutal terms how good I have it. This book is a classic. And more than anything a reminder. Last night I was reminded that no matter what happens, with work, with life, with friends and family, I've still been blessed.