Getting Up Again

You might have noticed (from my previous post) that I was having a sad. This is what I call my occasional encounters with acute depression. When I am in that space, it feels like everything is much more difficult than it objectively is, or even impossible, and simultaneously pointless. Why would anyone bother doing something so difficult if it might turn out to be impossible and even if it’s not, it won’t matter that you did it?

I feel that it is necessary to prepare you for what I am about to say. I am not, in any way, suggesting that what works for me is a universal truth for everyone. Every person’s sad monster is different. Also, I am a soil scientist. This is not my area of expertise. If you are having a sad, I recommend finding a professional whose expertise align with your struggle. I have a therapist who I speak with regularly. I highly recommend it.

That said, what seems to consistently work for me is just doing something instead of nothing.

When I wrote that last blog, I still hadn’t even emailed the people who manage the roofs I’m studying, which I have to do to find out when I can come in to collect data. I was putting off even that step because emailing people every time I want to schedule a visit is “such an annoying thing to have to do”. And, besides, once I’ve emailed them I’m obligated to do things. I have to show up when I said I would and be uncomfortable in the heat and collect data and drag my heavy equipment around. Ugh.

That’s how I felt at the time.

I talked to my therapist, who has and specializes in ADHD, the day I wrote that last post. I told her, “I don’t want to work on my thesis. I think I hate it.” Further, I explained, I manage to push forth by telling myself, “I hate it right now, but I just need to get through this part.” She responded with an, “Oh no. I think I know where this is going.”

After explaining what I’m doing and why I hate it, we came to the conclusion that I need an assistant or at least an accountability buddy. She runs free “homework sessions”, which are helpful for her and her clients. In these sessions, everyone greets everyone and then no one talks. The session just acts as a block on the calendar when you know you’re going to get work done because you told someone you’d be there to work.

I keep telling myself (and my partner) that I “just” need to set aside scheduled time to go to the home office and work diligently. I say “just” like it’s no big deal, but I can’t make myself do it. Even when I try to schedule time, I don’t show up in the office. I need to water the vegetable garden, clean the kitchen, fold the laundry, vacuum the rugs — or something — instead. This is where accountability buddies come in handy. If I told someone else to meet me there, I feel the pressure to get there. I don’t want my struggles to become someone else’s problem.

I might take advantage of those homework sessions. Those would probably help keep me on track, but what I needed to get me out of the mess I was in last week was to take action.

That last blog went up on Tuesday and I finally got myself rallied to email people on Friday. Even as I was doing it, it felt burdensome. But once I had done it, I immediately felt the wall that had been keeping me from being productive crumbling. The complicated painting project I had planned and bought supplies for finally got done, and I did the whole thing in one day! I cleaned things that needed cleaning, made vet appointments for our dogs, took the foster puppies for vaccines, had my niece over, had friends over to play a complicated game (Gloomhaven if you’re wondering), took the kids out for a picnic lunch at a nearby open space, and had a generally lovely weekend.

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I read a chapter in John Green’s recent book The Anthropocene Reviewed that further bolstered my motivation. The chapter is titled “The World’s Largest Ball of Paint” and in it, John says,

I’ve often wished — especially when I was younger — that my work was better, that it rose to the level of genius, that I could write well enough to make something worth remembering. But I think that way of imagining art might make individuals too important. Maybe in the end art and life are more like the world’s largest ball of paint. You carefully choose your colors, and then you add your layer as best you can. In time, it gets painted over. The ball gets painted again and again until there is no visible remnant of your paint. And eventually, maybe nobody knows about it except for you.

But that doesn’t mean your layer of paint is irrelevant or a failure. You have permanently, if slightly, changed the larger sphere. You’ve made it more beautiful, and more interesting. The world’s largest ball of paint looks nothing like the baseball it used to be, and you’re part of the reason.

John Green

This resonated with me. I, too, have often wished (especially when I was younger) that I could achieve something great and unforgettable. I have always imagined my impact to be some scientific breakthrough. But for every breakthrough, there are probably many thousands or even millions of incremental improvements in our scientific understanding of the world. Whatever work I do will at least be one of those, even if none of my work ever results in a breakthrough. I guess this is what people mean when they say, “shoot for the moon — even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars”. I can’t hear that platitude without rolling my eyes at its inaccuracy. Still, the sentiment isn’t wrong.

Today, I went to my lab to pick up the batteries for my equipment and make sure they’re charged. Tomorrow, it’s back to the roofs to collect data. For now, I have defeated the sad. It’ll be back, and I will be brave enough to overcome it again.