« 26 | Main | March for Peace and Justice with $pread and PONY »
Emerging on the other side
April 27, 2006
I’m emerging from a two month long tunnel of intense work… like, 19 hours a day, seven days a week insanity. No joke. The amount of stuff I’ve taken on – and managed to see through - in this time period is quite thoroughly or impressive, or maybe just insane. I can’t quite believe that I made it, and with a limited number of freakout/meltdown/Ican’tdothis moments. My ability and my drive to complete it all was quite strongly linked to the ever weird, ever gloomy cast of my personal life. When things go to shit, I shine. For example: when September 11th happened, at the start of my senior year of college, it happened along with some difficult and unrelated stuff in my personal life, and I got my first solid 4.0 in school that semester, plus held down a job and an internship.
When shit goes down, I pour myself into the one area of my life that I know I can control and will succeed at: work. And it’s at the expense of perpetuating the fuckedupness of that other, vastly unquantifiable piece of my life – interpersonal relationships. When I do my work well, I know it, and other people know it. Does being good at interpersonal relationships get me quoted in the New York Times? No. Being good at my job does.
This is a stupid and wrongheaded way to look at things, I know. But I repeat it – things get sketchy with the people in my life, I turn to work. I turn back, and the people are gone, because I’ve directly or indirectly told them to fuck off. It’s a vicious cycle.
So now I’m turning back to the people, and thinking that this shit needs to change. It has to change, or I’m going to keep throwing myself into my work and coming up for air every now and again only to see that the people are figuring their shit out, building lives, committing themselves to their loves, having babies. And I… what am I doing? Not that. That is all passing me by, and I’m letting it – I don’t know how to grab onto it, or how even to evaluate what pieces of it I want and what I want it to look like.
I’m not even dating my writing, as RKB says. I’m pouring myself into the stuff I believe I have control over and can and will succeed at, while neglecting the more questionable and unreliable areas of my life, the pieces that at the end of the day are what matters.
Sure, I can say that my work matters – it does. It is my life, it gives me meaning and hope and drive and inspiration and a kick in the ass and a million other things I never expected. But it’s not all that matters. What matters is that I’m 26, and on one level I have a highly evolved sense of what I want and need, and on another level I feel like I’m a goddamn emotional toddler, at odds with the world.
Posted by Dacia at April 27, 2006 03:59 AM
Comments
‘Tis the season. I’ve had my own emotional retardation thrown in my face this month, and fixing it takes time I’d rather put into classes or work. I’m trying to address it but it’s so much more satisfying to have “real” accomplishment and something to show for my time than just uncertainty and plans for Saturday. It can be interesting to see progress in that hazy sphere but then there’s that whole ‘feeling like a newbie all over again’ thing.
There’s a theory that geeks and passionate people used to feeling like experts in a given area will avoid situations in which they feel incompetent. I think for some of us those are social situations and for some of us those are emotional ones.
On the other hand, your work quite frankly kicks ass. I’d love to be at that level some day but I don’t think I’ve got your dedication to anything except exploration.
Good luck recovering and figuring things out.
Posted by: Sabrina at April 27, 2006 06:02 AM
Dacia, I relate to this post in so many ways: that’s me summed up too.
Sending you empathy from across the pond, and a big hug too.
Girl
Posted by: The Girl at April 27, 2006 06:22 AM
I think maybe it’s a Taurus thing. When shit hits the fan, we buckle down and flourish. We are survivalists…Grace Under Fire, always. Exceptional multi-taskers, organizers, damage-controllers, and it boggles the mind, really.
Regardless of the circumstances, we get our shit done. The problem is that it leads people to believe that we are bionic and can handle massive quantities of stress, because we make it look so easy by having our breakdowns in private. That’s not so hot.
From one Taurus to another, I feel you. xxoo Cherry
Posted by: Cherry Bomb at April 27, 2006 11:02 AM
I only wish I had your concentration and focus. I’d get so much more done.
Ham sandwiches and bourbon all around!
Posted by: Viviane at April 27, 2006 03:46 PM
From one workaholic to another: Step 1 down, 11 to go.
::raises glass::
Posted by: Lexi at April 28, 2006 10:18 AM
Years ago, I heard someone say that nobody ever wished he spent more hours in the office, and I figured out that that’s wrong, the the wording conceals that it’s wrong. Lots of people look back at their lives and wonder why they didn’t accomplish more in their professional lives. Many ascribe it to luck, others think they lacked ability, but few simply accept that they had other priorities. In fact, many people accomplish things they are proud of in life because they are driven. Don’t apologize for working hard, especially in your twenties. Working hard is not an addiction or a disease, it’s a choice. If you feel you are devoting too much of your life to it, then maybe you need to take a step back and make more careful decisions about how to allocate your waking hours; but you have nothing to be sorry for. Working hard will serve you well.
Posted by: Thomas at April 28, 2006 02:18 PM
It’s all part of the process of genius.
When it gets you down, look for images of Freud’s desk, Wittgenstein’s home, De Kooning’s studio …
It can all be ordered and make sense, I suppose.
Posted by: Jefferson at May 2, 2006 12:06 AM
