Category: meh

List-basing the next 8 months

A few minutes are all that is left of August. Then we’ll pivot into September and for me it’s the beginning of the meh months, which span about 8 months.

But there are three more weeks of summer and that’s what makes September the easiest of the meh months \o/

In order to look forward to them, I am thinking of approaching them with lists of things I want to do.

One of the lists I need to make first is that of the things or activities that bring me joy and satisfaction. Because these don’t make themselves obvious at the times I need them the most!

Another is about the things I will need to do (outside of work, that is, where I am all set with TODOs, reminders, actions, issues, one-on-ones, weekly meetings, fortnightly ones, etc.)

I feel I might need a third list, but I don’t know yet if it’s right, or if it is a subset from list number two. But it’s an important piece and perhaps that’s what warrants a specific list: one area I read want to dig in is keeping imposter’s syndrome at bay and learning to enjoy where I’m at. Here’s what I mean:

1) one has skills without necessarily realising it, and 2) one may not know how to enjoy the place they’re at when they are right where they’ve worked hard to be.

Screenshot of the fitness app showing the illustration for a new move goal

How do you get to name those skills as personal assets? How do you bask in their glory (without becoming a pompous infatuated egomaniac)? And what list to you build for this journey?

A bitter pill to swallow

Illustration of a sad person at a desk

I was prepared for that meeting where a man said the same things I said. But I wasn’t prepared to hear that in spite of being the project manager, I would need to be trained if I were to act as interface with people on this project. It’s not like I hadn’t been interfacing so far, and the group needed a different kind of interfacing. So I’ve been wearing my cranky pants for a couple of days. There’s a large dent in my motivation as a result, and an even bigger dent in my sense of worth.

The physical experience of anxiety

I mainly physically experience anxiety in two ways, best described by the following two-word hashtags: #wringlung and #mochibruise.

I believe I get #wringlung when I’m lying down and #mochibruise in any other position.

#wringlung

wring transitive verb To twist, squeeze, or compress, especially so as to extract liquid. Often used with out. + lung noun Either of two respiratory organs in air-breathing vertebrates, occupying the chest cavity to provide oxygen to the blood while removing carbon dioxide. = #wringlung

That’s the closest description I could muster for the sensation of the air being swiftly squeezed out of my lungs.

#mochibruise

mochi noun A (delicious) Japanese rice cake made from glutinous rice. + bruise noun An injury to the flesh with a blunt or heavy instrument, or by collision with some other body; a contusion. = #mochibruise

The sensation, which happens in my stomach, is that of a soft and light mochi dropped on a bruise that suddenly aches.

How do you physically experience anxiety?

And to make things worse, my friend Guillaume recently reminded me of the photograph series he took of me thirteen years ago, where I was happier, fitter and worry-free.

woman in a white bathing suit sitting on the grass in the sun, face hidden by her hair blown by the wind
Coralie Mercier, June 2006, photo by Guillaume Laurent

I want to break free

[2021 update: if at first you don’t succeed, try again]

I have smoked exactly two thirds of my life: twenty-eight years. It’s high time I stopped. So I stopped.

It’s been only five days but that’s the longest I’ve achieved ever, so there is cause to celebrate.

The decision had been years in the making. Friends and family have persisted over the years and my son recently joined the lecturing bandwagon. I’m thankful because I was impervious! Much as they annoyed me, they were right and I knew it. Slowly I was getting closer to commitment: Quitting is the right thing to do, therefore submit.

I was brought closer to the decision last month by the prospect of tobacco deprivation at airports, during long flights –and basically of limited freedom to smoke–, as I prepared for a 24-hour or so journey to a two-day meeting, followed by a 24-hour or so journey back home. The actual trigger was the epiphany that struck me as I thought I was at last free to go smoke between two flights: that is not freedom, that is nicotine enslavement.

In “The Easy Way To Stop Smoking”, the book my good friend Amy gave me years ago, Allen Carr writes:

“It is […] slavery. We spend half our lives in situations in which society forbids us to smoke (churches, hospitals, schools, trains, theaters, and the like) or […] feeling deprived. The rest of our smoking lives is spent in situations where we are allowed to smoke, but wish we didn’t have to.”

Nicotine patches, lozenges and vitamin tablets

I smoked my last cigarette Tuesday after dinner and patched up the next morning. I’ve got lozenges for when the craving is too intense but I don’t like them too much so don’t use them a lot.

The worse day was the day before I stopped.

I had made up my mind, purchased the patches and the lozenges at the pharmacy after picking up my son after school. I was still smoking as my pouch of tobacco was not yet empty –it took me another day to finish it as I let it drag on as much as possible by rolling thinner ones and smoking less.

The second worse day was the third. Possibly because I had not used a patch that morning. Good to know they are not selling squares of adhesive tape!

A couple parting thoughts:

  • Not lighting up is hard, but not as hard now that I have decided to stop.
  • Time goes quite slowly in the process.