In the moment
Yesterday was one of those days where I couldn't wait for it to end. Trouble is, I felt that way about it on Thursday. And Wednesday, too.
I got an e-mail Tuesday informing me of a meeting agenda that I had to prepare for. It was to be one of those meetings with twenty people sitting around tables staring at each other, bouncing ideas back and forth. The charge was, "be prepared to share your thoughts on..."
And that's where the problem began. The thought of "sharing my thoughts" with aforethought gave me the hives. Well, not literal, red, splotchy hives, but figurative, internal, churning hives.
Here's a normal scenario: Sitting around the tables, staring, bouncing ideas back and forth, me pondering the conversation. An overwhelming compulsion to interject. Nerves tense, heart pounds out of my chest, voice quivers. Blurt and spew incoherence. Search for a crack in the floor. Find none (darn building codes), wonder if window would break if jumped into, wish I was dead.
That's how I handle it if I have no chance to prepare.
This scenario was different, because I had days to prepare. Rehearse. Practice. Dread. It's the rehearsal that is the problem. I run one possible scenario after another through my mind, trying to formulate responses accordingly. Most of which turn out to be wrong. Hence my trepidation over poor responses.
It's like this: I have a part in Hamlet, and I have rehearsed my lines. I know them cold. Backwards and forwards. Pacing in the wings, I await my cue. The lights come up, I hit my mark, I begin to speak, and then I realize that the play I'm in is Macbeth.
It's that bad. And that was the source of my anxiety, Wednesday and Thursday.
Thursday night I tried to get away from it all. Zelda, Lovett, and Dora went camping, so I had a night to myself. I loaded up my clipboard and trudged to [local chain mega-bookseller with in-store chain coffee shop] to work on the next Maddie's Dress installment. But I couldn't get past the feeling that I was somewhere else.
And thus, I spend a lot of time. Time spent in replay of the past or rehearsal for the future, but rarely in the moment.
I believe it was Col. Sherman T. Potter, 4077 MASH, who said, "If you're not where you're at, you're no place."
Oy.
I got an e-mail Tuesday informing me of a meeting agenda that I had to prepare for. It was to be one of those meetings with twenty people sitting around tables staring at each other, bouncing ideas back and forth. The charge was, "be prepared to share your thoughts on..."
And that's where the problem began. The thought of "sharing my thoughts" with aforethought gave me the hives. Well, not literal, red, splotchy hives, but figurative, internal, churning hives.
Here's a normal scenario: Sitting around the tables, staring, bouncing ideas back and forth, me pondering the conversation. An overwhelming compulsion to interject. Nerves tense, heart pounds out of my chest, voice quivers. Blurt and spew incoherence. Search for a crack in the floor. Find none (darn building codes), wonder if window would break if jumped into, wish I was dead.
That's how I handle it if I have no chance to prepare.
This scenario was different, because I had days to prepare. Rehearse. Practice. Dread. It's the rehearsal that is the problem. I run one possible scenario after another through my mind, trying to formulate responses accordingly. Most of which turn out to be wrong. Hence my trepidation over poor responses.
It's like this: I have a part in Hamlet, and I have rehearsed my lines. I know them cold. Backwards and forwards. Pacing in the wings, I await my cue. The lights come up, I hit my mark, I begin to speak, and then I realize that the play I'm in is Macbeth.
It's that bad. And that was the source of my anxiety, Wednesday and Thursday.
Thursday night I tried to get away from it all. Zelda, Lovett, and Dora went camping, so I had a night to myself. I loaded up my clipboard and trudged to [local chain mega-bookseller with in-store chain coffee shop] to work on the next Maddie's Dress installment. But I couldn't get past the feeling that I was somewhere else.
And thus, I spend a lot of time. Time spent in replay of the past or rehearsal for the future, but rarely in the moment.
I believe it was Col. Sherman T. Potter, 4077 MASH, who said, "If you're not where you're at, you're no place."
Oy.
posted by Chris @ 9:23 AM
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