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One last post.
My brother replied
Things i did well yesterday: I acknowledged the dread i was feeling as i faced an afternoon where i could get something done. I did not beat myself up. I wish i could have gone closer to my fears and negative feelings, but perhaps that was for the best (as the insight this morning was novel). I did the laundry, rode the exercise bike, and piddled a bit with genealogy. That is, i gave myself alternative places to make progress and "get things done" and be proud of myself, even if i didn't do what i was supposed to do.
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lola_kristine, Wallander has KENNETH BRANAGH as a main character. Who cares if it's not a quirky as Wire in the Blood?! (PS: thanks for the reference, we enjoyed the first episode last night. Nice to see the Swedish landscape, too!)
This morning just before i awakened i was dreaming about folding myself double and breathing to escape my fear and dread, something i actually do at my desk (bend forward, head down, breathe, try to relax...). I woke and realized a few things:
* i can't/won't visualize myself smoothly succeeding at something. There's this barrier -- drama, trauma, struggle -- that immediately overlays any "i should do" with a sense of futility and impossibility. The sense of self sabotage sits there as an inevitable companion.
* that's when i "clicked" with that inevitable companion being the memory of my parents fighting.
* i have this urge to hire a coach or therapist to work with me on this, but i simultaneously begin building impossible criteria (they'll have to under stand my depression, and they have to be able to work with me around the pain i feel about my family, and ...) and suspecting i want someone to fight with about whatever i'm procrastinating on. Working on procrastination seems suspiciously like procrastinating. Mindgames. Hmm.
* i cry a little bit, feeling the pent up grief of my childhood, a different grief than the one around wishing for archtypical Mother, but this grief around my parents' dynamic, my dad's conflicting wants -- "I only have N weekends left in my life," he'd say, probably when he was my age or a little younger, "I want to spend them fishing not doing this." And he'd spin his story of being frustrated about how much stuff Mom has and wanting to live in a shack in the woods eating out of a tin can with just one spoon to wash.
Dad did teach me about TCO at an early age. (TCO: total cost of ownership.)
Not sure what's next. Just writing this all this morning is keeping me from engaging on the prep for the 11 am meeting (there's one at 10, as well).
Fail flail! Invest so much energy in the fail-flail-adrenalenine rush that the long empty afternoon becomes yet another battleground for fail-flail!
My brother replied
I am an unfocused disorganized procrastinator and I owe my station in life to luck smoke and mirrors.
Sounds very familiar. It plays out in my own life because I turn to putty when the adrenaline subsides and "tough week, I am tired" is not a valid plea (in my case because my spouse has a more complicated professional and parental workload and is actually more focused and efficient than I am and my procratination actually increases her probs).
Things i did well yesterday: I acknowledged the dread i was feeling as i faced an afternoon where i could get something done. I did not beat myself up. I wish i could have gone closer to my fears and negative feelings, but perhaps that was for the best (as the insight this morning was novel). I did the laundry, rode the exercise bike, and piddled a bit with genealogy. That is, i gave myself alternative places to make progress and "get things done" and be proud of myself, even if i didn't do what i was supposed to do.
Oh,
lola_kristine, Wallander has KENNETH BRANAGH as a main character. Who cares if it's not a quirky as Wire in the Blood?! (PS: thanks for the reference, we enjoyed the first episode last night. Nice to see the Swedish landscape, too!)This morning just before i awakened i was dreaming about folding myself double and breathing to escape my fear and dread, something i actually do at my desk (bend forward, head down, breathe, try to relax...). I woke and realized a few things:
* i can't/won't visualize myself smoothly succeeding at something. There's this barrier -- drama, trauma, struggle -- that immediately overlays any "i should do" with a sense of futility and impossibility. The sense of self sabotage sits there as an inevitable companion.
* that's when i "clicked" with that inevitable companion being the memory of my parents fighting.
* i have this urge to hire a coach or therapist to work with me on this, but i simultaneously begin building impossible criteria (they'll have to under stand my depression, and they have to be able to work with me around the pain i feel about my family, and ...) and suspecting i want someone to fight with about whatever i'm procrastinating on. Working on procrastination seems suspiciously like procrastinating. Mindgames. Hmm.
* i cry a little bit, feeling the pent up grief of my childhood, a different grief than the one around wishing for archtypical Mother, but this grief around my parents' dynamic, my dad's conflicting wants -- "I only have N weekends left in my life," he'd say, probably when he was my age or a little younger, "I want to spend them fishing not doing this." And he'd spin his story of being frustrated about how much stuff Mom has and wanting to live in a shack in the woods eating out of a tin can with just one spoon to wash.
Dad did teach me about TCO at an early age. (TCO: total cost of ownership.)
Not sure what's next. Just writing this all this morning is keeping me from engaging on the prep for the 11 am meeting (there's one at 10, as well).
Fail flail! Invest so much energy in the fail-flail-adrenalenine rush that the long empty afternoon becomes yet another battleground for fail-flail!
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