Today. I Tried. To Slow....My Life Down

Well, they're definitely not in  a hurry...

Last year, I wrote about my internal clock and how it is set to maximum speed.  It is still a problem, and until I can tackle it effectively, I will still face the same problems, no matter how well I think I’m doing with my life, career, relationships, health and a dozen other things.  My instinct is to rush through everything, savoring nothing, and the result is, well, a friggin’ mess.

So I’m trying to slow my life down.  I learned an excellent maxim about work: Slow is smooth and smooth is fast.  The more you take your time and complete the task carefully and deliberately, the less actual time it will take in the long run.  Fewer mistakes, less frustration.  Less hair loss.

I’ve been working on weight loss for a few months.  My medications, unfortunately prevent any quick outcome.  I will have to do this the old fashioned way.  More exercise, eating less and patience. And even that will not guarantee rewards.  I’ve accepted that. But, I have to actually eat slower, too, and that is proving to be quite the bitch.

We bought a new couch recently so it’s another good excuse to not wolf down anything in front of a TV.  We have a table with chairs, and that’s what it is there for.  So now, my distractions are gone.  My task now is to physically chew and swallow slower.  Holy crap.  Eating food, even good stuff you are happy to eat, is pretty boring when you chew it like a cow chews cud. Dinner is now an insurance seminar or an HR meeting.  When you have others around, at least some conversation can get you through it, but when you have to eat alone…it’s all you can do to not fall asleep in your salad greens.  Longer eating time equals feeling more full, so slower is better. But what a snooze.

Time perception itself is also a problem.  I have a job where I need to occasionally make appointments that require me to anticipate traffic and travel times.  From the outside , not a major issue.  But a life of anxiety and people-pleasing has made it a mortal sin to be late to anything.  It is the height of inconsideration.  In the real world, shit happens and people are late from time to time.  I was insistent when I started making these appointments that I would give them a specific time; a specific minute, when I would be there.  Later I learned is acceptable to give a window of three hours when you set the appointment! Three hours!  That’s a Lord of the Rings movie!  I certainly can slow my life down and cool my anxiety by giving a very fair and reasonable half-hour window.  Less stress, less hurrying.

I also have to think slower.  That is probably not the best way to describe it.  I have to organize my thoughts and be perfectly content with setting one string of thoughts down in favor for another.  I can simply say: No.  There are so many thoughts in our heads and we get overwhelmed.  You have to remember that these are just thoughts that take up no actual real estate.  They can only reside in the space we give them.  I have creative thoughts and I’m working, so I have to concentrate on work stuff now.  I’ll jot some notes down in a notebook and move on.  The same goes for the reverse.  I’m writing this junk, and I have work thoughts.  They’re not going anywhere. Make a note, and get back to the fun stuff.  You’d be amazed what you can control with the parade of invasive thoughts that march through your brain right before you fall asleep.  Jesus, why am I thinking of a game of Risk I played in 1987?  How did that get in there?  And why am I now breaking down my favorite songs in the REM catalogue?  If you need to sleep, practice saying No.  It’s not always effective, but it’s worth trying to extend that sense of slowing things down to bedtime.

The true reason I am looking at this now is that I want to try novel writing again.  I’ve been sitting on an idea and a handful of notes and unfinished chapters for a while, and I’ve just read a novel that got me excited about the long, arduous, painful, thankless, and mostly lonely art of writing long form.  To write a novel is so different from anything else.  It’s like working out.  You have to a little bit each day for a very long time and eventually you will have results.  It can’t be rushed or the process will suffer.  Everything must be slowed down.  The thinking, the planning, the organization.  But, again, why am I in a hurry in the first place?

This is a lifestyle change.  (You know, the hardest changes to make…) I talk fast, type fast, handwrite fast.  I wash the dishes fast and vacuum fast.  All of those things I usually perform at a piss-poor level.  I am so accustomed to rushing that doing the job well is just foreign.  Everything in life was just something to get through and endure.  It’s not Zen.  I’m not present for anything, whether the events are memorable or mundane.  It’s all a blur.

All I can control is what happens today.  Like writing this essay.  I did my best to take my time and the next one I will do a little better. 

Now I have to go sip my decaf like the Crawley’s sip afternoon tea.