Beck sang it best: Soy un perdador

So I’m supposed to be running a 10 km race today, like, right about now. Obviously, the fact that I am sitting here writing these words on this page is a pretty good indication that I am not running this race, a race that I not only registered and paid for, but that I also invited friends and colleagues to join me in. I am not running the race because this seems to be one of the things that I do- sign up for something, anything, everything, with sincere enthusiasm, without taking a moment or two to properly weigh the circumstances surrounding the event, other commitments, and the reality of my ability and availability, and then- after hours, days, weeks, months of denial- I finally, at the last possible second, realize that perhaps there just might be a few too many things on my plate, and that my far too optimistic schedule largely underestimates the time required for each engagement, and does not allow for such crucial activities as sleeping and eating.

In fact, this week has been stuffed to the brim with examples of me doing these things that I do, things I know I shouldn’t do, things that I wish I didn’t do, things that I try not to do, but things that I still somehow do over and over and over and over and over and over again.

Monday was a beautiful example.

Picture this please. Monday morning, I’m all decked out in my teacher outfit. I’ve got on my ready-to-start-my-week heels, a quasi-spring dress/legging combo, and my hair pulled back into an I’m-trying-to-hide-how-desperately-I-need-a-haircut coiffure- headband, bangs swept to the side, tucked under headband and sprayed in place, and an elastic band wrapped probably a dozen times around a pathetic little tuft of hair so tiny that it can’t really even be called a ponytail. I head downstairs, and then upstairs again (because, of course, I forgot something), and then downstairs, and then upstairs again, and then- finally- downstairs to gather up my stuff and head out the door. This is always quite the process, because, as you may have noticed from my purse clean-out post, I like to haul a lot of stuff around with me, lots of “just in case” stuff, and I have to fit all this stuff into the two relatively roomy but not infinitely roomy saddle bags hanging off the back of my bicycle. So, while this morning routine is always quite the process, it is even more so on Mondays because, on top of the usual daily essentials I bring with me to work, I also have to haul back the untouched bag full of marking that I insist on taking home with me every Friday evening, even though I never ever even open the zipper, but I bring it home every Friday with the intention of actually doing the work this time, which, of course, I never do. And then this particular Monday, I had even more stuff to pack up than I usually do on a Monday because it was the Queen’s Jubilee, and all the staff members belonging to the Commonwealth had been asked if they could please bake a wee little something, and I, of course, naturally said “Yes,” and baked a couple dozen scones. And then, not only did I have scones and my untouched work and my lunch and my rain jacket (just in case the heavens open en route), but I also had cupcakes for the Year 12s who had recently completed a very big important assignment, and my coworker had suggested we do something for them, and I, naturally, volunteered to bake cupcakes, because, after all, everyone knows that if you’re going to be baking on a Sunday night anyhow, then you might as well just keep on baking.

The reminders kept coming this week of these quirky and persistent little habits and patterns I have, these things that I do that I really really wish I didn’t do but just keep doing, probably because the pressure’s on, and these kinds of things always reveal themselves when the pressure’s on. This next week is the last week of my contract at the school where I’m working, and a few hours after I finish my last day, I am stepping onto a plane and heading on a little trip, which means that during this next week I have a lot I need to do. Like, a lot. I need to pack, and shop for the usual last minute things, and print off confirmations, but then I also have to make sure all my report card comments and marks are completed, and that all my stuff is out of the classroom I’ve been using, and that the classroom is left as orderly as when I found it, and I have to finish marking my embarrassingly large pile of assignments before I can even do all the comments and marks (which I should actually be doing now instead of writing this). And I need to make sure my bedroom is all cleaned up because my parents are arriving moments after I leave and will be staying in my room. And I have to send my brother a list of things to bring with him when he comes to visit in a few weeks. And I need to….oh, you get the picture. There’s a lot that needs to be done in a short period of time, and it appears that at these moments, when efficiency and expediency and focus are the most necessary, this is when all my quirks come out in full force.

So, below, for all the world to see, a list of the things that I do that I know I shouldn’t do, that I wish I didn’t do, that I try not to do, but that I still somehow do over and over and over and over and over and over again.

1. not making hair appointments

Each time I go to the hair stylist, I am offered the opportunity to book my next appointment in advance. I never do. I don’t know what it is- fear of commitment, concern that I might forget, the feeling of being tied down. God forbid I make an appointment and then call and cancel or reschedule if, for some reason, the timing doesn’t work. Instead, what happens is this: I look in the mirror one morning and realize that it might be time for a cut, but it’s busy or I forget or I’m trying to save money, and I start putting my hair in pig tails or flipping it out, until one day, I just can’t bear it anymore- an inch of roots is showing and my hair is just too long and too short and too heavy and too mulletty. So finally I make an appointment, but then, because they work on Dutch hours, which means they’re closed, like, 3 days of the week, and only open until 6 pm on the days that they are open, I have to wait until they can squeeze me in, and essentially, I’m walking around for upwards of three weeks with hair that I hate, coming up with all these bizarre hairstyles that involve multiple barrettes and bobby pins and elastic bands and hair bands, as well as big earrings or bright lipstick to distract people from the ridiculous situation happening on my head.

2. slouching

I am a “chin poker,” I have tendencies towards the rounded back that I see in my father and grandfather, and my shoulders are always trying to get ahead of the rest of me, curling forward. I see pictures of myself and wish I could digitally straighten my spine and pull those shoulders back. Yoga has certainly helped but unless I am continuously conscious of my posture, I am a hard-core sloucher. I could teach slouching, I could earn a PhD in slouching. I need to hire someone whose sole task is pulling my shoulders back and yelling at me to stand up straight.

3. taking work home with me

Taking work home is wrong on so many levels. First of all, in order to achieve a healthy balance between work life and home life, work should stay at work. I have a good friend who is also a teacher who refuses to work past 6:00 pm on anything school-related. I thought that was crazy when he first told me that, but it makes sense. Teachers often get a lot of comments from non-teachers about how long our vacations are and how short our hours are. It’s true- we have a sweet summer break and a decent work day, but the thing about teaching is that our brains are always buzzing with teaching-related stuff. If I read an article, I think, “Oh, that would be a good one to discuss in class.” If I see a cool video clip, I think “Oh, I have to show this to the kids.” In the shower or on the bike ride to work, I am struck with new ways of delivering information or planning out a unit. I know this work-staying-in-the-headspace situation isn’t unique to teaching, but I guess what I’m saying is that a good teacher could theoretically be working, in some capacity, all the time, the mind a-buzzing non-stop with schoolschoolschool. Plus, working with kids, while invigorating and fun, is also exhausting. I’m in character all day, singing, dancing, talking, juggling, laughing, questioning, performing, encouraging, disciplining, deciphering, putting on the “Learning is Fun” show five days a week. So, weekends and evenings are important- to recharge and rest up. For everyone, teacher or not, weekends and evenings are important. A valuable lesson I learned last year, when I lost my job, a job to which I had given so much time and energy, was that, at the end of the day, no matter how much you love your work, a job has to be a job. It can’t be your life. Life needs to be about more than work. So weekends and evenings need to be about relationships and hobbies and learning and being outside and enjoying life, not so you can be better at your job, so you can be about more than your job, just so you can be.

Also, taking work home is bad because then it’s this ever-looming reminder in the corner of what is still left to be done. For someone like me, far too motivated by guilt and obligation, with unhealthy tendencies towards anxiety, that kind of reminder is the last thing I need. So taking work home with me means, in the end, that my weekend, which should be about relationships and rejuvenating and resting and enjoying, gets defiled by this black cloud of a leftover to do list.   

4. forgetting/losing/misplacing/leaving rain gear

While I have gotten much better at having a rain coat and umbrella on me at all times, the problem now is that I keep leaving these places, so, in my 9 months here, I have lost one rain coat, left another at a friend’s and I keep forgetting to ask for it back, and then, if I wear the one that I still have in my possession, I have to hang it up wherever I am to dry, and that’s when I often end up forgetting it. Plus, a rain coat is good, but on multiple occasions, I have been caught in a rainstorm wearing beautiful shoes that I then need to try and salvage, which is incredibly stressful, so really, I need to have a pair of flip flops in my saddle bag at all times, in case the rain comes down when I’m all dolled up.

5. creating mess

I have been nicknamed “The Hurricane,” not because of my sweet moves in the boxing ring, but because I literally leave a trail of mess wherever I go. At a school where I worked, I had one student in my class who was my “key keeper.” It was her job to know, at all times, where my keys were, because they were perpetually lost under piles of paper or stuffed in a corner somewhere or hidden in some kid’s desk.  My classroom is a disaster. Some coworkers are nice and say things like, “You can tell learning happens here” or “Those with brilliant minds have no need to organize their physical space,” but most look at my work space with bugged out eyes (that, let’s admit, have the teensiest bit of judgement in their gaze, especially from those organized, colour-coded, everything in its place elementary school teachers).

My bedroom is an even greater disaster, because barely anyone sees it. I will admit that I am highly motivated by public shame and ridicule, motivated to maintain some type of order so that others won’t judge me (even the people I live with), so I generally keep the door shut to hide my mess. I am not dirty- there isn’t rotten food or dirty Kleenexes strewn everywhere- but it is always untidy. I don’t really know why I have drawers or a closet because I don’t really use them, at least not in the way that normal people do. I tidy everything up about once a week, but quite literally, the next day, after trying on a few outfits and shoes, it’s in the same state of disarray. Those trying to be helpful ask, “Why don’t you just tidy up before you go to sleep?” And to that I respond “Because I’m tired and don’t feel like it, because I am more motivated by people than by tasks on my to do list.” The funny thing, though, is that I function better in a tidy environment. I’m not one of those messy and proud of it types. In a very weird way, I appreciate and enjoy creating order. I like organizing my stuff, and if you open the closet, the clothes that are actually on hangers, are in a very visible order- jeans together, dresses together, short sleeve shirts, long sleeve shirts. The problem is that I can never seem to maintain the order. I create these organizational systems at work and at home that I simply can’t sustain.

Yesterday at dinner, the women at the table were telling stories about their own struggles with mess, and it just made me feel sooooo much better, like I’m not the only deeply flawed girl on the planet. Still, it’s a sucky feeling to not invite someone in because you’re embarrassed by how you live. Something’s gotta give, especially if, like I said, I know that I think better and feel better when there isn’t any mess.

6. putting things in “safe” places

Because I am messy and have organizational systems that don’t really work, I have to find safe places for important things. Sometimes, these important things are lost in a black hole of safeness for eons at a timeand I eventually stumble upon them after a huge wave of panic, and then sometimes I actually smile at how surprised I am that I was smart enough to think about putting it somewhere safe.

7. avoiding paperwork

If I added up the amount of money I have lost from late fees or from failing to submit receipts for which I could be reimbursed, I could take you all out for dinner.

8. overcommitting

I have a fairly hefty enthusiasm for novel ideas, for great initiatives, for life, in general. If I could, I’d like to clone myself so that I could be involved in more cool activities. Sometimes I forget that there is only one me and that I do not yet have a clone, and I say “Yes” to everything that comes into my path. I love the new people I meet and new lessons I learn from saying “Yes” but I often forget that you can’t say “Yes” to everything. Usually, I agree to take part in something because I am truly excited, sometimes I just don’t want to disappoint someone. In the end, though, because I agree to so much, eventually I risk the chance that I’ll disappoint multiple people because of my often overlapping commitments.

9. horrid time management

I don’t really use an agenda. I’ve tried different styles. I never seem to be able to make it work. I rely on my memory, which is pretty good, but not good enough. I scribble to do lists in a variety of locations. They overlap and also have massive gaps. I forget things, I put them off, I do them twice. The biggest problem, however, is that generally I have an unrealistic understanding of how long something will take. I am always trying to squeeze as much into every day, which is obviously a bit of a problem. It causes anxiety, rushing, pressure, none of which are good. I think that after all the bullshit of the last few years, I sometimes feel allergic to obligation, and in this weird way, to do lists cause this pressure of someone wanting something from me, so I avoid making them, and treat them as suggestions, rather than obligations.

Connected to all of this is my gigantic problem of procrastination. I put things off until the point where it is just painful, where the thing that I need to do is just crushing me from all sides. I need to learn how to do things before they become urgent. I know all about that little matrix you’re supposed to make of your tasks so that you divide them up into urgent and important. I am in that urgent quadrant all the time. Whatever is most pressing is what gets done, which means that important things get forgotten and that, of course, is a shame. Urgency is stressful.

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In a perfect world, I would be rich enough to hire a maid, a personal assistant and a posture aide. This, alas, is not a perfect world. So, what to do? What to do?

Here’s the deal: doing these things is one thing, doing them knowing full well that I don’t want to do them is another, but the biggest problem, really, is my own reaction to the situation. I waste so much time hating myself for doing the things I don’t want to do but keep doing. And in these moments when I throw my hands up in the air and cry out to the universe, “Why do I keeping doing this?”, my sister always says, “Either accept it or change it.” And she’s right.

I think that one of the natural yet not particularly helpful consequences of my eternal optimism is the fact that I always think it‘s going to be different this time, that this will be the weekend that I open up my school bag, this will be the report card where I have everything entered into the system in advance, this will be the month when I pay the bills on time.

There is this fine line between denial and faith in one’s ability to change. The people around me see it. My sister advised me two weeks ago that maybe, given my health as of late and the fullness of my day planner, just maybe I should think about giving up this race, but I so desperately wanted to prove that I could squeeze it all in. I don’t like the idea of there being limitations, of needing to make choices. But in the end, the unfortunate thing is in committing to everyone, I sometimes also end up disappointing everyone, including myself.

In this whole ‘accept it or change it’ approach, there are a few things to consider. For one, I think there’s kind of the need to do both, to take steps towards changing while still accepting the imperfect me in the middle of the changes. What I mean is that sometimes I am not patient enough with myself. I want it to be fixed now, and I get irritated when I make mistakes, when I fall off the wagon, when I can’t figure it out as quickly as I’d like.

Another dimension of this decision to change or accept is perhaps to look at what motivates my desire to change. Do I want to be less messy so that others don’t judge me or because it legitimately adds to my quality of life?

And perhaps, rather than evaluate behaviour as good or bad, in need of change or not, I can recognize the complex layers involved in certain character traits and behaviours, to cherish the consequences of imperfection rather than dwell on the quest to achieve perfection.

So much to think about. But that’s all for now. After all, my weekend pile of marking awaits. Time to zip open the bag and just get it done…..or I could take a nap in the sun.