I have a clock in my head. It never stops running. It’s always there, in the back of my mind, ticking away the days, hours, minutes, seconds, with a list of tasks next to it.
I want to turn the damn thing off.
On any given day, I juggle a dozen small emergencies. My project refuses to function; my room has a blown fuse; my report hasn’t been started; I should exercise; I need to make dinner; my medical claim needs filing; I received an official notice on Tuesday; I want to set up a date; I need to do laundry; my applications and requests for interviews remain amorphous and unwritten; I need to discuss travel plans; I need to pay attention to the lecture that is occurring right under my nose; I should play with this scientific problem that interests me; I’m running low on coffee and garlic; yesterday’s lecture needs reviewing; I have a presentation to write. All of this runs through my brain within thirty minutes of leaving bed.
The clock ticks.
My first thought is, “How can I manage all of these tasks today? How to schedule them so that I can stay on top of these issues?” So I develop a plan; if I leave the house on time; if I finish such-and-such a task by 14:00; if I exercise at 18:00; etc., etc., etc. It is all doable…if nothing goes wrong.
Of course something does not go as planned. A task takes longer than I expected; the fix I tried doesn’t work; a friend whom I haven’t seen for a while wants to meet for dinner or coffee.
The clock ticks red. The list remains unfinished. I reschedule. If I cut down on exercise; if I cook tomorrow instead of tonight; if I put off folding laundry; if the report waits another day; if the scientific curiosity waits another week; if I skip lecture review; if I sleep six hours instead of eight….
The clock ticks red. I go to bed. Half a dozen tasks remain. Upon waking the next morning, I remember them; I failed to complete them yesterday; I must fit them into today’s schedule.
The clock ticks red. I forgot to set up the date. Travel plans remain unknown. Applications remain unwritten. My shirts live in my suitcase. The emails have been waiting four days. I haven’t exercised in seven. The curiosity is dead. The project isn’t working. My report isn’t started. And more things come.
The clock ticks red. I want a chance to organise all of the things I haven’t done, develop a plan for how to catch up on them, and finish them. I want time to think, rather than running from post to post. I want to go to bed feeling like I’ve finished everything I needed to do that day. I want to have the sense of crisis be an exception, not a rule. I can’t remember the last time I felt like I was on time, in control; I panic at unexpected trouble.
The clock ticks red. I don’t think I’ll ever have time to finish all my emergencies, let alone the unnecessary but interesting tasks. I’m no longer trying to engage in preventative actions; I’m no longer even trying to eliminate the backlog; I’m just trying for damage control.
The clock ticks red. I’ve given up. I’ve been behind too long; there are too many things to do; I can’t remember them all; I will never be able to catch up. I don’t care. I don’t care that I don’t care.
The clock ticks red.
All Reset.
The clock ticks black. I eliminated or delayed all of my less-than-urgent tasks. I’m on top of things again. For now.
But they are still there. Still waiting. I’ve not beaten the beast, just delayed its reemergence. It will be back. Perhaps next time, I’ll be better able to fight it.
Perhaps not.
The clock ticks black.
The clock ticks red.
Two of the tasks I delayed are due in eight days. I haven’t looked at them. I haven’t had time to look at them. I don’t know how I’ll finish them both in eight days. I know I’ll need at least twice that long to do both competently. I should have started working on them last week. But last week I was dealing with last week’s emergency; I didn’t remember these.
The clock ticks red. I know I need to start addressing the tasks that are due next week. I know that if I don’t start them now, I won’t have time to do them well, if at all. But where is the damned time? My current crisis requires all the energy I can spare.
The clock ticks red. I don’t remember anything of what I heard or did yesterday. I haven’t had time to review that material, I didn’t even have time to let it sink into my brain; I was too busy trying to finish yesterday’s emergency. It’s okay. I don’t need to remember it. Yet.
The clock ticks red. I’m eating my seed grain and I know it. I can’t sustain this. But it doesn’t matter; I need to survive the current crisis. Maybe then I’ll be able to survive the next one. And the next one. And the next one. The crises never stop coming. Maybe if they did, I’d have time to come up with a plan to deal with them in an organised fashion. But they don’t.
The clock ticks red. I want to hit someone, to break something, but there is no one within reach who deserves it, nothing that I can break without repercussions. I want to scream, but my roommates or colleagues will hear. I want to cry, but somewhere along the path of “growing up”, I forgot how to. I want to speak to someone, but I’m afraid that it will frighten them; or, worse, they will dismiss it as minor, a weakness, a lack of focus or motivation. I should ask for help, but somehow, I can't bring myself to admit that weakness...that inadequacy. So I can only curse myself for failing to recognise this danger sooner, and for building my protections so well.
The clock ticks red. I open a beer at my desk. It will calm the nerves for an hour; enough to cram the next chapter, enough to let me write the next paragraph. In the long term, it’s unsustainable, indeed antiproductive, and I know it. But I’m not thinking long term. To think long term is a luxury that I cannot afford. I’m just surviving the emergencies as they come, running in the hopes of reaching something better. Never mind that I don’t know where the road goes. I don’t have time to worry about that.
The clock ticks red. I can't remember the last time I wasn't in crisis mode. Some people find that energizing. I passed that point long ago. I'm just exhausted. I'm facing the biggest crisis of this project, but my adrenaline was used up long ago. I don't care. I don't care that I don't care.
The clock ticks red.
The clock ticks red.
