Procrastination Sludge
(This is a second go at this post. I had it all written out yesterday, but then it was lost when I tried to publish it, and hitting "Back" just rewarded me with a blank screen. Maddening. Makes me feel slightly better (less defective) to know I'm not the only one.)
I have trouble understanding that procrastinatory behavior and depressed mood are distinct phenomena. I have a habit of seeing them as part of the same thing, at least in the context of my own little (unique yet unremarkable) psychic landscape (grass, trees, maybe a lake, but also, over there, a cruddy strip mall, with dumpsters, and a chain donut store and trash in the parking lot).
(I remember saying something somewhat similar, talking to my previous shrink, and then being struck by the thought, "oh, but I guess when it comes to psychopathology, you don't really want to be original and unusual, do you?" And she said, with some authority, "No... No, you really don't.")
So then I get all confused when depression and procrastination come separately. Not that it's never happened before. It just doesn't gibe with my established mental model of how things work, so I'm surprised every time. I'm bopping along in life, not depressed, maybe not Profoundly Happy, in some kind of choirs-and-major-chords way, but, you know, fine. And yet there I am, going through all kinds of contortions--mentally, logistically, psychologically--to avoid even seeing the thing that I am not doing. Some unavoidable reminder of the existence of the thing might occasionally force itself on my consciousness, and I will, with great energy and verve, push it the hell back away from me and think very quickly of something else. (I might also have the fleeting thought, "what is up with that?" but am soon swept away in thinking very hard and seriously with knitted brow about "is it too warm out to make chili?" or "should I have gotten the cheaper, less cute bathroom rug?")
I cannot tell you how much trouble I'm having making preparations for my nursing refresher course that starts the week after next. Every stupid little step takes so much energy. I have to keep swatting my hands (put down the crossword puzzle) and forcing myself (grinding sound, smell of motor overheating) to do what I need to do. I have now assembled/composed all the pieces of my application for a license in this state and sent them in. I have obtained the necessary form and assembled/composed my application to the nursing refresher program of my choice. But it took me FOREVER. Fortunately, I don't need an in-state license until clinical starts next month, and the program wasn't even close to full, so it was fine. But man oh man. Like pulling f**king teeth. AND it's not over, because I still have to figure out about malpractice insurance (I've never had to deal with this before, because usually you're either a student--in which case, you're practicing under your instructor's license--or you're covered by your employer). And about getting the required physical. And about when and where payment is required. (My mom very generously for Christmas gave me a blouse, and some socks, and a little card with an old fashioned nurse on the outside, and on the inside, an offer to pay for my nurse refresher course! Which is really, truly a great thing. So my squirreliness can't even be about the money, for a change.)
I suppose what it comes down to is that this whole trying to be a hospital nurse is scaring the shit out of me. I'm scared I'm going to suck. I'm scared I'm going to be so overwhelmed I'll cry in front of people. I'm scared I'm going to hurt somebody somehow--give them the wrong medication or run in an IV too fast or forget to tell the doctor something important or fumble in a transfer to a wheelchair. I'm scared I won't know how to do stuff I'm supposed to know how to do. I'm scared I'll be unsupported. I'm scared of that choking feeling where everybody wants something from you and you can't do it all and it's all your fault. I'm scared of being not enough.
So. Well. I suppose that does explain it all a bit, really. But still.
At least there's one part of the preparation that I think I won't procrastinate about at all. See, I have a closet full of office-y clothes, but I've got pretty much nothing to wear on the wards. So I have to shop for some scrubs. I even got a catalog unbidden in the mail recently. There are lots of colors and patterns. I'm thinking slate gray, ceil blue, and maybe "paprika." I'm toying with getting a garish print or two, too. The twee-ness of the "French Kitty" riding a hot pink old-fashioned bicycle in front of the Eiffel tower, all on a girly blue background, somehow calls out to me. I'll let you know what I pick out.
I have trouble understanding that procrastinatory behavior and depressed mood are distinct phenomena. I have a habit of seeing them as part of the same thing, at least in the context of my own little (unique yet unremarkable) psychic landscape (grass, trees, maybe a lake, but also, over there, a cruddy strip mall, with dumpsters, and a chain donut store and trash in the parking lot).
(I remember saying something somewhat similar, talking to my previous shrink, and then being struck by the thought, "oh, but I guess when it comes to psychopathology, you don't really want to be original and unusual, do you?" And she said, with some authority, "No... No, you really don't.")
So then I get all confused when depression and procrastination come separately. Not that it's never happened before. It just doesn't gibe with my established mental model of how things work, so I'm surprised every time. I'm bopping along in life, not depressed, maybe not Profoundly Happy, in some kind of choirs-and-major-chords way, but, you know, fine. And yet there I am, going through all kinds of contortions--mentally, logistically, psychologically--to avoid even seeing the thing that I am not doing. Some unavoidable reminder of the existence of the thing might occasionally force itself on my consciousness, and I will, with great energy and verve, push it the hell back away from me and think very quickly of something else. (I might also have the fleeting thought, "what is up with that?" but am soon swept away in thinking very hard and seriously with knitted brow about "is it too warm out to make chili?" or "should I have gotten the cheaper, less cute bathroom rug?")
I cannot tell you how much trouble I'm having making preparations for my nursing refresher course that starts the week after next. Every stupid little step takes so much energy. I have to keep swatting my hands (put down the crossword puzzle) and forcing myself (grinding sound, smell of motor overheating) to do what I need to do. I have now assembled/composed all the pieces of my application for a license in this state and sent them in. I have obtained the necessary form and assembled/composed my application to the nursing refresher program of my choice. But it took me FOREVER. Fortunately, I don't need an in-state license until clinical starts next month, and the program wasn't even close to full, so it was fine. But man oh man. Like pulling f**king teeth. AND it's not over, because I still have to figure out about malpractice insurance (I've never had to deal with this before, because usually you're either a student--in which case, you're practicing under your instructor's license--or you're covered by your employer). And about getting the required physical. And about when and where payment is required. (My mom very generously for Christmas gave me a blouse, and some socks, and a little card with an old fashioned nurse on the outside, and on the inside, an offer to pay for my nurse refresher course! Which is really, truly a great thing. So my squirreliness can't even be about the money, for a change.)
I suppose what it comes down to is that this whole trying to be a hospital nurse is scaring the shit out of me. I'm scared I'm going to suck. I'm scared I'm going to be so overwhelmed I'll cry in front of people. I'm scared I'm going to hurt somebody somehow--give them the wrong medication or run in an IV too fast or forget to tell the doctor something important or fumble in a transfer to a wheelchair. I'm scared I won't know how to do stuff I'm supposed to know how to do. I'm scared I'll be unsupported. I'm scared of that choking feeling where everybody wants something from you and you can't do it all and it's all your fault. I'm scared of being not enough.
So. Well. I suppose that does explain it all a bit, really. But still.
At least there's one part of the preparation that I think I won't procrastinate about at all. See, I have a closet full of office-y clothes, but I've got pretty much nothing to wear on the wards. So I have to shop for some scrubs. I even got a catalog unbidden in the mail recently. There are lots of colors and patterns. I'm thinking slate gray, ceil blue, and maybe "paprika." I'm toying with getting a garish print or two, too. The twee-ness of the "French Kitty" riding a hot pink old-fashioned bicycle in front of the Eiffel tower, all on a girly blue background, somehow calls out to me. I'll let you know what I pick out.
posted by Rosie Bonner at 12:32 PM
1 Comments:
I so remember the feelings you describe so vividly when I went back to work after SEVEN YEARS being a stay at home mom, a few of which were devoted to depression and recovery. Whatever little rewards you can find along the way, like shopping for snazzy work clothes, are definitely worth it. In fact, consider setting up in advance a little reward for each odious step you have to take (this I learned later, from Smokenders). It's humiliating to know we can be programmed, but it's liberating to do the programming oneself.
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