On Katie's recommendation, I've bought this book, and. . . I've stacked it on the top of a pile of other books on my desk that I plan to read soon, when I have time. When I'm not so overwhelmed. One stack is my stack of esoteric "to-read" books; another is inspirational "to-read" books; the final one is "I've read this recently but haven't bothered to put it away yet" books. On my bedside table in my room, I have the stack of "fiction I've started but haven't gotten around to continuing" books, the stack of "poetry I'd like to say I've read but it never holds my attention at midnight when I go to bed" books, the stack of "biographies I mean to read but stop reading because people's lives aren't as interesting as they could be at midnight when I've finished writing and grading papers and planning lessons" books, and the stack of "bad lesbian romances I buy because I want to support other lesbian writers but just can't bear to read them" books.
Schulte's book, Overwhelmed perches on the prestigious stack, the first stack I see when I come in the door after a long day of teaching, the stack I see when I grab my laptop to write my 1500 words for the night, no matter how tired I am.
To-Do:
*Read all those books.
*Stay as well-read as possible.
*Do everything on my to-do list, every night.
If I didn't have a to-do list, I'd never get anything done. Throw it away? I'm too overwhelmed to think about doing that.
Tonight, for example, I decided I would not let myself start anything else until I'd crossed off two important items from the long to-do list on my desk: buy a dress for the San Francisco wedding in June, and buy shoes for that wedding. Simple enough, except that I detest shopping, even online. Styles, colors, reviews, comparisons. I tried to shop in person earlier tonight, but one walk through Macy's made me shudder. I'll take my chances online. Two hours later, I clicked "purchase" on Amazon, then immediately regretted I'd chosen a lavender dress instead of something safer, like brown. Already 11:30 pm. Instead of picking up one of those books, I played three games of Words With Friends on my phone, then felt frustrated that I'd frittered away the time when I could have been enriching my brain.
To-Do:
*
*Stop frittering away the hours.
*Quote Thoreau more often.
*Read Thoreau more often.
*Do more yoga?
*Stay off Facebook!
*Check in with friends and family (Facebook for five minutes.)
*Stay up later, to do more things from my To-Do list
I know these are first-world problems. White, privileged problems. The anxiety that rises in me when I think about the full laundry hamper, the empty refrigerator (when TK needs food for her lunch tomorrow), and my current job search is the anxiety of someone who lives in a safe and secure house and neighborhood, who has a stable and well-paying job, who is relatively healthy and is surrounded by supportive, loving family and friends. I don't need to worry.
To-Do:
*WORRY.
My chest aches, my arms go numb, my breath is too shallow. My lower back hurts. I sit on my couch and try to distract myself with The New Yorker, and end up reading about forest elephants which poachers are evidently killing at a rate of one every fifteen minutes. American researcher Andrea Turkalo has camped out in the Dzanga-Ndoki National Park in the Central African Republic for twenty years. She spends her time observing the elephants and reading voraciously. She told The New Yorker: "That's why I like being here. You have time to focus on things." Her life is in danger because the Sudanese poachers carry automatic weapons, and her work is in danger because the elephants are disappearing and the Chinese are blazing roads so they can log the forest. I shouldn't feel jealous of Andrea Turkalo.
To-Do:
*Start a campaign against the buying of ivory.
*Discover a way to make my Boulder apartment feel like a tent in the Dzanga-Ndoki
I'm not overwhelmed the way I was when I lived in the middle of grief. The smallest tasks overwhelmed me then. I'd run out of milk and lean against the counter to cry about it. I'd lie in bed in the morning and dread the complicated task of getting dressed and then brushing my teeth. The dentist bill made me panic, and so did the price of ground beef, and of soccer lessons for TK. Now I'm mostly overwhelmed by happiness: moving, job searches, future plans. And I'm a mother of a small child, which makes me overwhelmed anyway. I don't get to come home from work and just lounge on the couch with my peanut butter tortilla in one hand and a book in the other. I have to cook a healthy dinner and then encourage TK to pack her lunch and then push her to put her pajamas on and brush her teeth, and somewhere in there we practice math (tonight, we practiced fractions), and somewhere in there we read another chapter of Harry Potter, and then I tuck her into bed. I could flop onto the couch after that, and read, or watch TV. But I make myself write.
To-Do:
*
*Write three more novels before August 30.
*Find out why I'm so compelled to write.
*Find something bigger and more important to write about.
*Ask myself: if I never relax and only write, about what will I write?
*Ask myself: what will happen if I order out for dinner more often?
My middle school students are all researching nonviolent action in the world right now. That's the best gift I can offer a privileged, predominately white population of students, to show them that 1) violence is not an answer to the world's problems and 2) they have some power to enact change. But as I circulate in my classroom, helping with sentence construction and image layout, advising about the credibility of online sources, I only feel overwhelmed. Yes, people are marching in Myanmar against the jailing of journalists, and holding up signs in Russia against homophobia, and projecting holographic images of themselves illegally protesting in Spain. But North Korea continues to abuse its people, and Uganda's corrupt regime is still in power, and Guantanamo Bay is still open. Is it working? I ask each group of students about the nonviolent actions they're researching. They shrug. It's still not fixed, if that's what you mean. No. It won't be. All we can do is keep marching.
To-Do:
*Overcome the Powers That Be.
*Keep marching.
*Don't give up!
I'm tired. I think I'll grab this Overwhelmed book and crawl into bed, open it, read a few pages before I fall asleep. Tomorrow, I'm taking the day off so I can hike all morning in Chautauqua State Park, where I plan to think about nothing except what I see. I won't bring any to-do lists. I won't even make any in my mind. I'll just walk, and breathe. Maybe that's the most important action I can take in the world right now, before I can accomplish anything else.
