The Three D’s

Remember two years ago, when I said the 20s were going to roar? 

Well, I didn’t mean a little virus was going to roar over us.  It’s been…quite a year.  No, quite a couple of years.

I love to spend New Years’ Day reflecting on the past year—and planning the next.  As I said in Bill’s This Time Next Year challenge, the lockdowns and furloughs and protocols have worn me down, and now, I am in the worst shape of my life, physically and mentally, since college.  Everything has fallen apart, and I feel completely broken.  And I am far from alone.

Despite all of the awful, I learned some very valuable lessons in 2021.  In February, I was diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder, finally understanding how my brain works.  I realized that all the time I have spent escaping into a dreamland was exactly what prevented me from chasing my dreams.  I wasn’t only using my dreams as an escape—I was using “self care” as an excuse to avoid the long, difficult pathway towards success. 

In these two years of ‘rona, I had forgotten what it was going to take….to live the life of my dreams.

Clearly, I need a reboot, and it starts with developing three qualities that all start with the letter D:

Determination.  Dedication.  Discipline.

Last year, I talked about the Grind, how to keep going when you’re tired or challenged or never believe you will succeed.  I had three goals, and while #blogsandcoffee has been a great success, I struggled to create a daily routine.  (Don’t even ask about the English accent.  I decided to start learning French instead.) 

The reason I failed at creating a daily routine—was that I wasn’t determined enough to be dedicated enough to have the discipline to make it happen.  I chose the instant gratification of dreams and indulgences, rather than working through the challenges from juggling so many balls in the air.

Did you know that people with OCPD struggle with multitasking?  Um, yeah.  I probably also need to learn how to say “no” more often….

Now, there are a lot of people reading this and thinking, “um, Erin, you are the most disciplined, dedicated person I know.  I mean, in high school/college/work/running you are so able to get it done.”

Well, I am…when it’s simple, like training for a marathon, or has triggered my compulsions, like writing this blog post, but once things get complicated, I can’t handle all that’s being thrown at me.  Like what we have to manage as an adult—work, home, finances, health, leisure—add in the stresses of covid, and I have lost my way. 

(I’m also really, really good at hiding my struggles.)

To succeed at this endeavor, I have to start simple, with one project I know I can do if I am determined, I am dedicated, and I am disciplined.  I need to appreciate the baby steps it will take to complete this project and do them, even when I’m tired or anxious or had a bad day.  It will be like filling a rain barrel with an eyedropper, so I have to use these three D’s to stay on track, progressing towards completion.

Once I have reached my goal with that first project, I repeat the process with another project, then another, and another, building my determination, my dedication, and my discipline with each iteration, empowering me to tackle increasingly difficult projects.

If I master these three D’s, perhaps I will have a daily routine by the end of the year, the first step towards the life of my dreams.

This Time Next Year

The only part of the holidays I love is the change of the year.  Having a slower time to reflect on the accomplishments of the past year and set goals (never resolutions) for the new year is probably my favorite holiday tradition.  Those of you regular readers know I start the year with a blog post, and last year, one of my goals was to create a place to read and support other bloggers.  I launched #blogsandcoffee on January 1^st, and after only a year, I’ve made some great connections as other bloggers have used the hashtag to promote their blogs.  (Yes, I read every blog post I promote!)  One of my “regulars” is Bill from A Silly Place, who tagged me here.  His Sunday roundup blog is a must-read, and usually I make an extra-large cup of coffee so I can read what he’s found.  Thank you, Bill, for your tag—and your positive contribution to the Twitter blogging community.

Rules, rules rules

Because these things always come with rules:

• Thank the person who tagged you.
• Write your goals for next year.
• Write how you’re going to achieve these goals.
• Tag at least five blogger friends.
• This last one is optional, but in 365 days, write a post about whether or not you’ve been successful!

At this time next year…

If I wanted to condense my goals into one word, it would be stability.

Like many people, I was completely unprepared for a global pandemic of lockdowns and furloughs.  Ever since the world shut down back in March of 2020, I’ve felt like I’m stuck on a tilt-a-whirl, struggling to hold on against the twists and turns, the ups and downs—the uncertainty—that filled every day.

(I hate spinning rides.  I’ve lived 15 minutes from Great America for years, but haven’t visited it since 1995.)

The closest I've gotten to being inside the park...

As the days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and months turned to years, the whipping and the spinning had so filled my brain that even the simplest of tasks was a challenge.  My life was spinning out of control, fighting to keep it from falling completely off the rails….and lost. 

I need to find the lever, stop the ride, clear my head.  Stand on terra firma and feel normal again.

At this time next year, I see myself following a daily, regular routine.  The tasks I need to do to stay on top of things have become habits, giving my days an easy flow.  I go to bed feeling accomplished, confident that the next day will be successful, and wake up feeling rested and energized, my batteries recharged.  I have balance in my life, calming my mind, giving me the stability to work on the bigger projects, get my life together, and chase my dreams.

The details of how I’m going to do it…..will the subject of my New Years’ Day post.  (Hint:  it has to do with the letter “D.”)

Tag!  You’re it!

Rethink Entrepreneur

Tangela Williams-Spann

Amber

Headphones Thoughts

Aneesha Shewani

About Simone Biles and Mental Health

Finally, it’s the Olympic Games!  I remember getting so excited for the 1984 Olympics in Los Angeles, watching the Opening Ceremonies while checking off the delegations on my world atlas.

That was five months after my mother sat us down to watch Torvill and Dean in Sarajevo, the only perfect Olympic ice dance performance in history.  Little did I know then that I would become an ice dancer myself, decades later.

It's not the Olympics, but definitely nerve-wracking!

We were glued to the television set those 16 days in the summer of 1984.  From Mary Lou Retton to Carl Lewis to the first women’s marathon, I loved all the Olympic sports we didn’t normally see on television, and like most kids, dreamed of being an Olympian.  Of course, it was pretty clear that I just didn’t have the athletic talent to get there, nor the dedication to do the same thing over and over and over again for years to achieve that dream.

Still, watching the Olympics became a regular tradition, and now having participated in both a Winter (figure skating) and Summer (marathon running) sport, it’s very special to feel a connection to the stories playing out on television.  I know what it’s like to face a panel of skating judges or trying to manage a hot, sunny race day.

This is what I will tell you, after two decades of athletic training:  it is HARD to be an Olympian.  You train day in and day out in relative obscurity to perform your best at one competition that only occurs once every four years. 

Or, if the world shuts down due to a global pandemic, five years.  2020 was a terrible year to be an elite athlete.  Facilities closed and locked down.  Competitions cancelled.  And when they announced that the Olympics would be postponed, many couldn’t turn to the one thing they’ve done for decades to soothe their mind—practicing their sport. 

It’s been a very long fifth year for these athletes, and watching these Games, it’s very clear it is a very different Olympics.  Parents are watching from home.  Audiences are made up of media and fellow athletes—at least, those who are still competing as they are sent home as soon as their events are finished.  For the athletes, who are used to competitions being a certain way, it must be discordant, disruptive, and distracting to not have a full arena of cheering crowds—or more importantly, a hug from Mom and Dad before their event.

Like so many others, I was shocked that Simone Biles withdrew from the ladies’ team final due to a mental health issue, but once I saw her vault, it completely made sense.  Even though she had made little mistakes at both the trials and at qualifying, that vault was just….wrong.  It was very clear her mind was in a very bad place, to the point of danger.  Thankfully, she was able to land on her feet instead of her head, go backstage to talk with the team doctor, and make a decision that kept her safe.

….and social media exploded.  Armchair experts, criticizing her decision, telling her that the Olympics are about “pushing through” challenges.  People who can’t do a cartwheel or somersault, never mind a double twisting double pike, thinking they know what’s best for an athlete who has spent the past five years mastering her sport for this very moment while juggling the responsibilities and expectations of federations and sponsors. 

It was too much, and her mind….broke, separating from her body to the point that she could no longer physically do her sport.  Had she broken her ankle or—gasp—been taken off the floor on a stretcher on her way to the ER, there would be outpourings of sympathy, but since she is physically fine, it didn’t make sense to people who honestly, don’t understand how mental health really works.

Well, it made perfect sense to me.  It seems so long ago when I was running negative splits through Central Park in the New York City Marathon.  Taking a break to heal after the marathon turned to hustling multiple jobs to keep my head above water to surviving a global pandemic.  Just like many who struggle with mental illnesses, the stress over furloughs and disease and isolation and “not normal” triggered my OCDP contamination fears to spiral out of control, to the point where making a plan to run with friends is dictated by the various anxieties and rules created by my illness. 

Physically, I’m fine, but it has become so much a fight in my head to go running that I can’t.  It’s not something I can think away or push through or get over myself, because that will trigger a full-blown, self-destructive panic attack.  Like Biles, I have to find a way back to the basics, back to figuring out a way out of this hole, because I still have three marathons to run, including Boston.

Cashed in some gift cards for a new toy...just working on that insane step goal right now.

However, it’s not just about sports.  I struggle getting out the door of the house on time because I just can’t get my hands correctly clean.  People suffering from depression literally cannot get out of bed in the morning, while anxiety sufferers can get trapped in their own worried thoughts.  So many people having to fight their heads, their thoughts, every day—just to be a functional, productive member of society.

We have all faced mental blocks.  Maybe it’s a task that you just can’t start—or can’t finish.  Maybe it’s overcoming a fear or anxiety.  Maybe it’s having a confrontation or difficult conversation.  We have the training, the skill set, the ability to do it, but our minds just scream, “no!”  When your mind is blocking you, even from doing something you love, there is no escape. 

And when that block is about twisting and flipping and trying to land on your feet, you have to withdraw from the Olympic Games.  Even though these athletes make it look so easy, it’s not. 

After watching Mary Lou Retton win the all-around gold medal in 1984, I asked for—and received—gymnastics lessons.  I realized very quickly that not only did I not have the strength to do the basics we were learning in our group lessons, but that I was scared to do simple skills like handstand roll downs and back walkovers.  Gymnastics is a dangerous sport, and after my first meet, I decided it wasn’t my thing, moving on to the much safer ballet and tap dancing.

(I never did ask for figure skating lessons because I knew they happened before school, and my mother struggled to get us to school on time as it was.  Ah, hindsight.)

It’s not a surprise that so many Olympians and professional athletes have supported Biles in her decision to withdraw from the Olympics.  Every top athlete lives with the pressure from the obligations they have to their sport, their federation, and their sponsors, never mind what they place on themselves to keep winning, to keep succeeding.  At that level, it’s not enough to be at their top physical condition.  They have to be mentally strong to overcome all the nerves that come with being on their sport’s greatest stage, and over the years, we’ve seen many talented athletes come up short as their minds struggle with the stress, stress that many sitting on their couches at home take for granted because it’s so invisible.  Until Simone Biles said, “I can’t.”

Simone Biles might come away from Toyko without a gold medal, but she has given us all a lesson in mental health. 

I Dream...

 

I dream….

Of always having perfectly manicured nails,

A daily facial and makeup routine,

More than two ways to do my hair.

I dream….

Of a home where everything has a spot,

Nothing accumulates,

All comfy and cozy and warm and safe.

I dream….

Of everything going as planned,

Not having to put out fire after fire,

Because all the preventative things were done on time.

I dream….

          Of feeling healthy and powerful,

          Not afraid that every little ache and pain,

          Is something more serious.

I dream….

          Of a month where I don’t have to worry about money,

          Or paying the bills,

          Able to do the work I love.

I dream….

          Of seeing a woman who exudes confidence and success,

          When I look at the mirror.

I dream….

          Of having a surplus of time and energy,

          To do nice things for my friends,

          And to help those who are struggling.

I dream….

          Of a neat, ordered life where nothing is out of place,

          Where I can give more than I take,

And my mind is finally at peace.

My OCD as a Superpower

Just like my morning cup of coffee, I need to have every single step of my day organized in my head.  It allows me to go through everything smoothly, like a choreographed dance, calming and clearing my mind so I have the energy and focus to pursue my dreams.  It’s as satisfying as setting up a domino show, then watching it tumble:

Isn't that soothing to watch?  The order, the organization, the choreography....

Life, however, almost never operates that easily.  As things start falling off the rails, my head starts filling with anxious noise.  I’m thrown into a tizzy of multiple thought streams speeding across my neural net, rendering me unable to focus on any one item for more than a few seconds.  The noise will escalate until I can barely see or hear or feel the real world, my brain completely disconnected by the overloaded circuits.  I can even be so stressed that I struggle to breathe.

I need to take some time, calm my head, clear my brain, and reset the dominoes.  Sometimes, it’s just a few breaths or a walk around the block or completing an online survey or playing a video game or taking care of something that is hanging over me.  Other times, I escape to dreamland, wishing for a life without worry.  Occasionally, I can get so agitated that I have to lie down and take a nap just to avoid a major panic attack. 

While I’m doing all these things to soothe my overwhelmed, overloaded brain back to coherent thought, time continues to march forward, as do the schedules and deadlines and time limits that trigger my anxiety in the first place.  No wonder I’m always pressed—or stressed—for time.  I never have enough time to finish a project or respond to someone or get somewhere because it just takes more time than I have.

Time becomes my enemy, and as the clock ticks, so does my anxiety, and as everything churns inside me, I start having the urge to act impulsively.

Sigh.  The only thing worse than my relationship with time….is my relationship with impulsivity.

The beauty about having my head organized is feeling clear and calm and able to make thoughtful, reasoned decisions.  I love being thoughtful, being able to think things through, being able to plan my decisions and their ramifications. 

As I start stressing over how little time I have to get things done, my mind fills with panicked responses, ways to get the anxiety to clear as quickly as possible.  I no longer care about being thoughtful or kind or considerate.  I no longer care if I’m doing the job okay.  I no longer care about anyone else’s feelings.  I just want the chaotic mess out of my brain and back to calm and organized.

If I react to these impulsive feelings, it never ends well.  I’ve lied and cheated.  I’ve done work that was so careless and awful that it had to be redone.  I’ve said horrible, hurtful things to people.  I’ve made terrible mistakes.  I’ve destroyed things that I had so carefully built.  In the attempt to alleviate the chaos, I end up creating a bigger mess and losing even more time to the anger and panic.

I cannot give into this insanity, and yet, life often forces me to do so.  I’m filled with regret over the impulsive decisions I’ve made over the years, many of which haunt me decades later.   

Which brings me to my garage.  It’s filled with an eclectic collection of stuff my ex-boyfriend acquired in an attempt to start a reseller business, but never could get it off the ground.  What do you do when a global pandemic hits after you’ve drained your emergency savings?  You start selling things. 

Any day when I’m not working my other three (!) jobs, I’m in the garage, listing his random stuff online.  It’s actually been cathartic to go through this process of selling each item, feeling like I’m stepping closer to financial freedom.  However, I tend to be a little impulsive about pricing…..

I priced these cards from the 1970s for $5.  Whoops.

What do you expect happens when I am selling things like electronics and tools and collectables at bottom-barrel prices in a county with a population of 700,000?  Yup, my phone blows up like Jennifer Aniston’s did when she joined Instagram.  (Okay, maybe not that much, but I’ve gotten some serious empathy for those IG folks with millions of followers.)  it’s absolutely insane how crazed people get about a computer monitor I can’t guarantee works or a power drill without a battery, just because it’s only $5.

Most of the responses are male, and clearly impulsive.  They are willing to run out the door and fly straight to my house to pick up the item, lest I sell to someone else.  They offer more money than I’m listing in hopes that they can jump ahead in line.  Their overly forward, determined behavior to mow down every obstacle in their way is unsettling, to say the least, especially for someone is often already stressed and overwhelmed by time and impulsive behavior.

In this chaos, my OCD becomes my superpower, treating the madness with rigid rules to implement calm and organization.  My response to the impulsive insanity is on my timeline, a timeline that allows me to feel calm and organized.  If I feel the need to impulsively respond, I set the phone down and wait until I’ve thought through my response.  What’s amazing is by controlling the timeline and refusing to be impulsive, these guys calm down as well, becoming much easier to work with as they realize I’m going to be fair and considerate and thoughtful.  Probably why I’m a highly rated seller.

Now to harness this superpower and apply it to other aspects of my life.  And yes, to double my prices on Marketplace…..

Finding My Way out of Dreamland

I have a coffee cup that says, “Stop Dreaming and Start Doing.”  It’s one of those mantras we see everywhere, from wall hangings to planners to….well, coffee cups.

Are you dreaming, or are you doing?

One day last week, I intentionally chose that cup because lately, it’s felt like I’ve spent more time dreaming and less time doing. 

Then my toilet clogged, triggering my contamination OCD and just making me too anxious to do anything beyond the bare minimum.  I went to bed, frustrated at what little “doing” I was able to accomplish.  However, I did a great job dreaming my day away, fantasizing about a life where everything was just…easier.

Dreaming has been my coping mechanism ever since I learned to read.  Falling into books, creating characters, being the person I wish I was instead of the person I saw in the mirror.  As a child, I would hide in my room, acting out the scenes I created to alleviate the stresses from school and home and a Mensa-level IQ and an undiagnosed mental illness.  (OCD is something you’re born with, and I knew it was the right diagnosis when my childhood memories and motivations suddenly made sense.)  No wonder at times of stress, I would lose myself in a fantasy of my own creation.

This time, however, the message on the mug stayed with me.  I’d fallen into my fantasy so deep that it was running as a continual stream in the back of my head, impeding my ability to function on a daily basis.  My escape from stress and anxiety was now creating so much noise that I couldn’t focus on anything.  I would read emails and not remember a word of content.  I would complete a task and then redo it, having completely forgotten that I had just done it.  I would ignore the people in my real world, preferring the interactions of the scenes in my head.

Looking backwards, it makes sense.  Before there was a global pandemic, I had run out of savings.  Before I ran out of savings, I had a horrible ending of a four-year relationship.  Before my ex and I broke up, I had a complete mental breakdown.  Before the breakdown, I quit my job to save my mental health.  The need for escapism was real, but it had gone too far and too deep.  I was now lost in my dreamworld, avoiding reality at all costs.

I looked back even further and saw the hours I spent over the years dreaming about what could be, rather than doing the hard work to make these dreams happen.  Pursuing your dreams…..is hard.  It’s the grind of plinking forward, failing, picking yourself up, and plinking forward again.  It’s fighting the boredom and the burnout and the monotony of spending so much time on something with so little progress.  It’s dealing with challenges and roadblocks and people who think you aren’t worthy. 

Just like….running a marathon.  Or nine.  Why was I able to do that and not this?

In my real life, I’ve always felt powerless and silent, not worthy of attention.  As a child, my mom would tell me that it was best if I didn’t speak my mind because she feared me being rejected by society.  I bit my tongue, became invisible, and created an alternate world in my mind where my ideas were valued and appreciated.

Fast forward to January 1, 2020.  I decided it was time to start writing down my ideas, my scripts, my scenes, my stories.  Then the world turned upside down with the coronavirus, and I lost my way, reality being so grim that my dreamworld was my only safe place.  We all have been finding some form of escapism this year, whether it is getting lost in video games, social media, Netflix binges, or scenes being played out in my own house.  We all need an escape right now. 

But for there to be any possibility for my dreams to come true, I need to leave my dreamland behind and re-engage with reality.

Instead of dreaming, I need to be writing down my dreams.  Instead of watching YouTube videos, I need to be watching Khan Academy videos.  Instead of disconnecting into fantasies, I need to be connecting with people. 

Just like the mug said, instead of dreaming, I need to be doing.

Welcoming in the Roaring 20s (and Mine Will Roar)

It’s been a year.  Well, it’s been a decade.  It’s hard to believe that when 2010 started, I was so looking forward to a precisely planned, perfect future.  That January, I attended a primary candidate forum….and everything changed.  It’s been a difficult journey, one that is hard to regret taking, but I’m still here, looking at 2020, and trying to figure out a new future.

Planning, planning, planning...for a fabulous future.

We’ve all had that moment when the rug was pulled out from under us.  For me, it was Labor Day, 2011, when the man I wanted to marry….told me our relationship was over.  It broke me, but looking back on it now, it led me to so much more.  The resulting depression led me to a therapist, which led me to understanding why my brain was wired the way it was, which led me to realize that how I was living my life wasn’t in synch with my brain wiring.

However, there was an even bigger revelation.  My mother, trying to maintain order in her own head, emotionally abused me.  It’s interesting, really, how a child sees their reality as “normal,” until they hit a point where they see there are other realities.  For me, it was working with a therapist who pointed out the times my mother, with her endless controlling behavior, crossed the line from being helpful to hurtful.  And hurtful she was.  Not only did I believe that her depiction of me was true, it had made me passive and controllable, which literally ate me up inside.  It’s her words, not mine, that I’ve said to myself in the mirror all these years. 

Due to both nature and nurture, my brain processes things differently than most people, but I’ve spent the last 45 years trying to fit my brain into a “normal” mold.  It hasn’t worked well, leaving me exhausted, frustrated, and feeling like a failure.  Now that I understand all of this, I can spend the 20s creating a life that fits me and my brain, then helping others do the same.  It seems so counter-intuitive that a country whose founding principles are all about accepting and tolerating differences…has so many people suffering from anxiety and depression because they feel too different.  Perhaps I can do something about that, but I can’t from where I am now.

I see where I want to be by 2029, but I am starting at the bottom of the mountain.  This year, my goal is to build a solid foundation from which I can tackle harder things.  It means creating financial security and stability.  It means retooling my house to be a place of relaxation and comfort.  It means cleaning out all the survival anxieties that cloud my decisions and sap my energy.  It means missing the run club’s annual run to Lake Michigan to instead hustle for income.  It means walking away from all the things I do to escape from the challenges and instead face them head-on.  It means working hard towards my goals, even when it’s not easy.

2020 is probably going to be my most challenging year, but I have all the support and resources I need to come out of it successful.  It’s time to make my 20s roar.