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Feb. 13th, 2025 11:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cloudcolorsFocusing on studying was really hard today. I have a fun weekend ahead- homemade pierogies and chocolate fondue with my wife for valentine's day, then a lowkey pajama party with a friend for her birthday, and finally, a quick visit to my parents' house up the coast to spend time with them. With so much on the docket, I was hoping to get all my work done early, and cross it off my mental list.
But as I sat at my computer, I felt my head start to ache in a familiar, heavy way. I hit my first wall with studying since I started college. I have felt a sense of peaceful confidence at the ease with which I've studied in my two courses so far- affirmation that a decade of organizing information for a living has made it much easier to return to school after my first disastrous attempt over fifteen years ago. But this chapter covers a large swath of information, and is much more dense. Instead of breezing through each paragraph and table, I felt my cognition hardening like drying cement in my skull with each sentence.
I took a nap, took a shower, ate a good meal, drank a liter of water, and talked to a friend. I condensed the info down into smaller chunks and sorted it by type. I used pomodoro timing and listened to white noise. I put on the perfume I only wear while I study. I did everything I could do, and then, on a break, I read that RFK is planning to "investigate" mental health drugs, including the SSRI that has made a huge positive impact on my life. And I just gave up. It was too much.
I have the whole weekend to get things done, and to memorize my 120 new root medical terms. I think I can do it. But the experience was interesting to me, because it made me feel so much sadness, and love, for my younger self, who had no techniques for this situation, or understanding of how to navigate it, and instead decided to avoid it altogether, consequences be damned.
This is how my mind has always been. It's more aggravated now, I think, partially due to a lack of practice, but also due to lower anxiety and a different view on what matters. Regrettably, and joyfully, 2020 relieved me of the notion that I had to go at any pace other than my own, and as such, "pushing through" things no longer comes easily to me. I think about this, and wonder how the world could be if we were all allowed to simply live the way we were built to. To do the things in ways that felt right, without trying to force others to do the same. To focus, genuinely, on retention and wholly digesting information, rather than over-processing and optimizing all the color, weight and nourishment out of it.
This laptop has been my sanctuary in the last few years, as I've found quiet spaces away from the main crossings of social media. I have sung the praises of these spaces, and none have followed me to them. This is not, it seems, what most people want anymore. The idea of writing to "no one" feels vulnerable, or sad, or lonely. The idea of making things without a "point"- engagement, attention, money- feels different than it did in the time before everyone was constantly visible. Even in typing this, in offering myself a little space for honest sadness that many people simply don't want or derive joy from the things that have brought me peace, I feel some guilt for judging anyone's choices. I suppose that makes the feeling a closed loop, in some ways. But when I was young, I often wrote without considering the audience at all. I am my audience here. As with studying, I can look at this in a different way, and make space for what it is, rather than what I wish it were.
All this has led me to wanting to make some notes on how i want to replenish my energy more this year. A very daunting challenge, given the state of everything, but I also think about another moment in 2020, when the George Floyd protests were happening, and Prentis Hemphill, who is a somatics therapist and organizer, shared their wisdom with us folks who were only just starting to look at things directly, in our messy and frightened way. I remember it being the first time I'd ever heard about rest and self-regulation being a fundamental part of radical change, and about the fascist tactic of keeping people activated and frightened. It's hard to balance processing the reality of the world and detaching from it, but I feel that I need to make some changes. I've been in a fragmented state, and I suspect I will continue to be for the forseeable future. I would like to meet this version of myself, make space for her, and see what we can do.
But as I sat at my computer, I felt my head start to ache in a familiar, heavy way. I hit my first wall with studying since I started college. I have felt a sense of peaceful confidence at the ease with which I've studied in my two courses so far- affirmation that a decade of organizing information for a living has made it much easier to return to school after my first disastrous attempt over fifteen years ago. But this chapter covers a large swath of information, and is much more dense. Instead of breezing through each paragraph and table, I felt my cognition hardening like drying cement in my skull with each sentence.
I took a nap, took a shower, ate a good meal, drank a liter of water, and talked to a friend. I condensed the info down into smaller chunks and sorted it by type. I used pomodoro timing and listened to white noise. I put on the perfume I only wear while I study. I did everything I could do, and then, on a break, I read that RFK is planning to "investigate" mental health drugs, including the SSRI that has made a huge positive impact on my life. And I just gave up. It was too much.
I have the whole weekend to get things done, and to memorize my 120 new root medical terms. I think I can do it. But the experience was interesting to me, because it made me feel so much sadness, and love, for my younger self, who had no techniques for this situation, or understanding of how to navigate it, and instead decided to avoid it altogether, consequences be damned.
This is how my mind has always been. It's more aggravated now, I think, partially due to a lack of practice, but also due to lower anxiety and a different view on what matters. Regrettably, and joyfully, 2020 relieved me of the notion that I had to go at any pace other than my own, and as such, "pushing through" things no longer comes easily to me. I think about this, and wonder how the world could be if we were all allowed to simply live the way we were built to. To do the things in ways that felt right, without trying to force others to do the same. To focus, genuinely, on retention and wholly digesting information, rather than over-processing and optimizing all the color, weight and nourishment out of it.
This laptop has been my sanctuary in the last few years, as I've found quiet spaces away from the main crossings of social media. I have sung the praises of these spaces, and none have followed me to them. This is not, it seems, what most people want anymore. The idea of writing to "no one" feels vulnerable, or sad, or lonely. The idea of making things without a "point"- engagement, attention, money- feels different than it did in the time before everyone was constantly visible. Even in typing this, in offering myself a little space for honest sadness that many people simply don't want or derive joy from the things that have brought me peace, I feel some guilt for judging anyone's choices. I suppose that makes the feeling a closed loop, in some ways. But when I was young, I often wrote without considering the audience at all. I am my audience here. As with studying, I can look at this in a different way, and make space for what it is, rather than what I wish it were.
All this has led me to wanting to make some notes on how i want to replenish my energy more this year. A very daunting challenge, given the state of everything, but I also think about another moment in 2020, when the George Floyd protests were happening, and Prentis Hemphill, who is a somatics therapist and organizer, shared their wisdom with us folks who were only just starting to look at things directly, in our messy and frightened way. I remember it being the first time I'd ever heard about rest and self-regulation being a fundamental part of radical change, and about the fascist tactic of keeping people activated and frightened. It's hard to balance processing the reality of the world and detaching from it, but I feel that I need to make some changes. I've been in a fragmented state, and I suspect I will continue to be for the forseeable future. I would like to meet this version of myself, make space for her, and see what we can do.
