Tag: choices

Middle Age and the Tyranny of Choice

I spent most of my youth striving to be capable. I practiced my trumpet and learned the capital cities of every country in the world. Like most children, I spent all day, every day, in a circumstance intended to turn me into Productive Member of Society – aka school. Every day, for more than 16 years I did this. And I learned the difference between a Madrigal and a Motet, the four main castes of India, how to conjugate the past tense in two languages, and why CFCs were denuding the ozone layer through the power of catalysts. I also learned things like how to organize my time for a large project, that you should not wash your whites and colors together if you want your whites to not be grays, that if you leave your grounds in your coffee maker over Christmas break it will be moldy when you get back, and how to live within your means.

And when I graduated, over a dozen years ago now, I was actually capable of being a productive member of society. But the learning didn’t stop.

I learned how to program web pages and design relational databases to drive them.

I learned how to cook a turkey dinner for 20+ people.

I learned how to write and teach a Sunday school curriculum to teenagers.

I learned how to run an efficient meeting.

I learned how to get a nutritious dinner on the table almost every night, with enough leftovers for lunch.

I learned how to write blog posts regularly.

I learned how to nurse a baby and change a diaper, even at 2 in the morning.

I learned a thousand other things, building up a capacity to learn quickly what I needed to know, to triage needs, to manage stress and to decide what didn’t need to be done.

And now, in my mid-30s, I feel like I am at the height of my powers. There are few things that I might want to do that I cannot – with time and attention – do.

And therein, my friends, lies the rub. Time. Attention. Focus. I am catastrophically short of these two things. My work is a constant source of new learning and skill, and requires 100% of my abilities nearly every day (except for those days when it really pushes me). It is a really great feeling to have a job that is so interesting and engaging, but I come home tired and worn out at the end of the day.

The running of a family with a rich social life takes so much of the rest of my time. There’s dinner with friends, and Lego League. My sons need my time, love and attention. My husband and I married each other because we want to spend our days together, every day. My God calls me to service in church. There are dinner parties, concerts, laundry piles, fellowship events, fund-raisers, work trips, produce to preserve, play-dates, Library-pizza nights, holidays and birthdays. I feel like I was flat-out for two months, from mid-September to mid-November.

And this is where that capability becomes a hard choice. I *can* do so many things. Yes, I can bake a pie for preschool’s Thanksgiving celebration. Yes, I can play trumpet for Christ the King day. Yes, I can write letters to the Town Council and show up to meetings in support of Stoneham Bikeway. Yes, I can bring a donation to the food pantry drive and buy pajamas for an 11 year old boy who has none. Yes, yes, yes, I can – and do – do these things. But I look beyond to all the things I could do, and have not chosen to do.

Within my skills and capabilities…

I could run for Town Council myself, and serve my community.

I could resume a leadership role in the church. I could teach Sunday School. I could sing in the choir.

I could volunteer at a food pantry.

I could be part of a community symphony, or a brass quintet, or wind ensemble.

I could be on PTO.

I could form a LeanIn circle.

I could actually chaperone a school field trip one of these days.

I could foster a child. I could adopt a child.

Heck, I look at the Healthcare.gov website and think to myself, “I could do better than that. I have done better than that.”

There are so many things I have the capability to do, so many things that are worthwhile – and I look at them and I do not think, “I cannot do that”. I think, “I have chosen not to do that. I have decided that is not more important than what I am doing now.” And you know? That’s a hard thing to realize. I am out of energy, and anything I add to my list requires something to be taken off. I, and my family, pay a steep price if what I take off is any time to relax and recharge.

What about you? What could you do, but don’t do? How do you deal with the choices you don’t make?

I’ll tell you what I want, what I really really want. As soon as I figure it out.

I was sad when the schedule came out so that Adam and I could not spend Camp Gramp week in wild hedonism together, doing things like “sleeping in” and “playing board games”. BOTH weeks this year where my parents would take the kids, there were gaming conventions. I could hardly ask Adam not to go to Gencon, so that was just the way of it.

Is this what relaxing looks like for me?

The brilliant upside was this: I would be alone. All alone. No one else in the house. No cat, no dog, no kids, no husband. I even decided to take a day or two off from work, to do whatever it was I wanted to do. Just me and my desires to attend to. I wondered, in the cold days of spring, what amazing thing I would do with my free time. I imagined driving up the Atlantic coast, stopping to stare out at the wild waves of Maine. Or maybe I’d manage to find a friend and go backpacking! (That is actually what I really wanted to do. The problem is with the find a friend part. I’m reckless, but not that reckless.) Maybe I’d finally hike Mt. Chocorua. Maybe I’d slip my passport and a change of clothes into a bag and just go wherever the road took me. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

I had a tumultuous lead time up to my great liberty. It went something like this:

Friday – work full day, pick up farmshare, drive 6+ hours to New York
Saturday – fail to find Appalachian trail
Sunday – hike Appalachian trail and drive back to Boston
Monday – work full day then fly out to Los Angeles on the redeye
Tuesday – have meetings in LA, watch Elysium with the sales team, fly back on redeye to Boston
Wednesday – all day company outing at Crane Beach. Buy plums.

Thursday I had originally planned for a day off, but I was so behind on stuff that I ended up working. Thursday evening arrived, and I relaxed by cleaning the kitchen, buying a new weedwhacker, getting my nails done and making 2 batches of plum jam.

Pie, red plum jam and golden plum jam – two night’s of labor laid deliciously out.

Friday was supposed to be the prime day of my great relaxing. But. Well. I started with an earlyish morning appointment at the chiropractor. (See also: twelve hours of long haul driving and two six hour redeyes in a five day period). And then I came home to a house that was a DISASTER. The kitchen was a mess. The living room was a mess. The dining room was a mess. The kids’ bedrooms made the rest of the house look downright clean. My bedroom was appalling. The carpets needed cleaning. And so that’s what I did.

I mowed the lawn. (I still need to edge it. Sigh.) I cleaned out Thane’s room. I cleaned his carpet. I cleaned out the upstairs hall. I cleaned the carpet. I cleaned my room. I cleaned the stairs carpet. I organized the living room and removed stuff we didn’t need any more. I cleared off surfaces in the dining room. I did the dishes. I cleaned the kitchen. I picked up the farm share. I cleaned the ‘fridge. I prepped all the farmshare food. I made blueberry pie. I invited friends over for a glass of wine and blueberry pie. Then I was GOING to SIT AND WATCH THE BASEBALL GAME, but it was a bad game and I practiced my trumpet and guitar instead, while flipping between the Sox and the Patriots. By 11 at night, the house was cleaner, but hardly done, and I was completely exhausted.

Saturday morning, I cleaned Grey’s room properly. (That was the hardest of them.) I dropped off dry cleaning. I went to the bank. I did the bills. Finally, I left to New York to go pick up the boys.

So what did I do with my precious, precious time of liberty? I caught up on chores. In fact, I pushed myself HARD to attempt to get as many chores done as possible.

“What” says the extremely ardent reader who has made it so far through my litany of “ohmygosh am I busy!” – “What makes you think we’re interested?” It’s this, oh Ardent Reader. It was something of a revelation of my sense of self. I think it will come as no surprise to anyone who knows me that being busy and engaged in satisfying labors is part of who I am. It’s not a small part either, and I think it’s growing. That’s no bad thing, because I am satisfied with being satisfied by labor.

But I think it also sounds the warning gong of a person too busy. I may fully utilize my time to be productive, but in exchange for what? Would I have been better off reading a book on the (overgrown) back lawn? Would my life be richer if I had gone North and left my farmshare to fend for itself? Or would I be less happy, heading into my busiest time of year in a chaotic and unrestful environment? How many days would I have to have off in order to feel like I was done with what needed doing? Or is that a goal that can even be accomplished? How do I draw the line between true work that needs to be done, work that I think needs to be done, things that I do that are like work but are also hobbyish (like canning), and true leisure and rest?

I’m curious how you, oh Ardent Reader, navigate these decisions. How do you draw the lines?