One Detail at aTime
Breaking tasks into bite sizes to reduce the feeling of overwhelm.
I find, in this aging process, that I can get more easily overwhelmed by tasks. Especially if too many come at me at once. I can freeze and do nothing. Not helpful.
How to work with this, I wondered.
So, I choose one thing that I can do at the moment. And let myself feel some accomplishment from that. Make the first call. Write a new list. Gather the first of the pile of documents that I need for whatever company now needs them (insurance companies, as of late, for me).
Breathe.
Pick one thing. It doesn’t have to be the perfect or best thing. Just pick any one thing. It’s a start. It can get the momentum going again.
And stop the chatter in my head about how many more steps there are to go and how much more there is to do. Yes, this is true. And beating myself up repetitiously with this information is not helpful.
So I make the phone call. Tell the company that the item that I ordered does not work for me. See what can be done. That wasn’t so hard, was it? This is what I ask myself, trying to break it down, trying to get started, trying to get the wheels turning again.
Breathe.
I write the list. So many things on it.
And I can space those things out over days and weeks, manually writing them into a calendar (yes, I still use a paper calendar so I can easily see the days, weeks, and months in my hand and adjust things as needed).
I write the email responding to yet another piece of information needed from me. I take a photo of whatever item they need, attach it, and send it with the email. Mission accomplished until they ask for the next piece of whatever they need.
I can work on decluttering one drawer, and one closet.
Breathe.
Slowly walking through my anxiety and doing small steps. I begin to feel a bit less anxious.
I tell myself that I am still capable of handling the details of my life, even if more slowly. I think that this is a fear that gets triggered whenever I find myself struggling with anything. Fear of decline. Fear of not being as capable. Fear of losing my independence. Fear of losing myself as I know her.
Breathe.
It’s ok. I’m still ok.
I may have to move more slowly and breathe my way through things a bit more slowly. It’s ok.
This isn’t a race. Or if it is, it isn’t a sprint. It’s a marathon.
Maybe I can think about looking at aging that way as well.
Think about today and where I am right now, without catastrophizing about future numbers and possible declines coming my way. Does worrying about them help? I don’t think so.
Maybe I can live life one day, one hour, one breath at a time. Rather than trying to figure out the grand meaning, purpose, and scheme of my entire life up to now and all that is still coming.
Maybe I can simply breathe and be in the moment. Isn’t that all that we really have in the end? This moment, right here, right now?
