Were you that kid whose adults were constantly worried about you being distracted? Did you blow them off, because what was there to be distracted from – algebra? Or maybe you were that kid who never got distracted. The golden child who was the MVP, prom queen, and valedictorian. Possibly you were like me, somewhere in the middle. I always got the work done, but sometimes it wasn’t until the last minute, and all too often it wasn’t the best work I could have rendered. Kicker is that I always knew that I had the potential to be MVP and valedictorian – not prom queen though; our prom queen looked like Vicki Vale in Batman, the 1989 version. People were always telling me so. I just didn’t have the drive. And honestly, I was pretty distracted by a million other things that I didn’t even know at the time were distracting me.
Fast forward thirty years, and distraction is even more evident in my life. It’s not that I haven’t accomplished anything. (In fact, I’ve used accomplishment as a distraction.) It’s not that there aren’t things in my life that matter, and I haven’t cared for them. It’s more like I want more than the minimum that I have given myself. Before, I would have blamed this minimal existence on circumstance, but I’m now realizing that I am the only one who can give myself more. And claiming that there are too many distractions in my life is just the excuse that every self-help book says it is. Ultimately, it’s not the job of the external forces in my life to give me kudos or criticisms to move me forward down whatever path it is I am walking, toward whatever “more” is for me. It’s up to me.
The irony is that years ago, while I was still in high school, I was complaining to a friend about how none of the people (adults) in my life pushed me to be more. He looked at me and asked me why it was their job to do that. These words still hit me like a ton of bricks when I think about them, because even though it was the job of the adults in my life to guide me and support me, ultimately it was up to me to push myself to give more and do more. He was right to call me out. I just wish that I had fully taken to heart what he was saying.
Plot twist: I’m not exactly sure what “more” is for me. I wasn’t sure then, and I’m not so sure now. As a result, it’s quite easy to get distracted. Throughout my life, I have always had a list of ever-evolving, arbitrary goals that I may or may not accomplish. Some of these “goals” were those placed upon me by the expectations of others. Others. I took from other people because, well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. My to-do list has become ever-extended, filled with family and home obligations, small and large. Possibly most distracting of all is how I have found various (in)efficient ways to accomplish all these seemingly endless tasks. (Sometimes I organize my to-do list alphabetically. Sometimes I have to do everything in whatever order I write the list; even if that means I have to drive back and forth across town.) Over the years, all these goals and chores have stacked up to become the ultimate room of distractions, and now I am left with trying to organize my life around them.
Right now, I am at a place in my life where the external distractions are starting to minimize, and I am finding myself forced to deal with the room of distractions in my head. Of course, there is still the housework and the cooking. The dog needs to be walked, and I can’t forget to take my vitamins and journal for my mental health. I have that band booster meeting on Thursday that I need to make sure I am prepared for – mentally and emotionally. And I have plans with friends and family this week. But those are all things that take merely a moment of my attention. They aren’t really what is weighing me down and keeping me from whatever my “more” should happen to be. It’s all the distractions that have been stored away over the years that I haven’t been able to deal with because I keep stacking more and more distractions in front of them, telling myself that some day I’ll get to them. (Kinda like my craft closet and the sourdough starter in the refrigerator.)
This morning, I found myself at the kitchen table, utterly stuck. I was dressed, my husband had left for work, the kids and dog weren’t up yet, and I had already written in my journal. I opened my computer, ready to start whatever tasks I needed to do, and I just couldn’t do it. My fingers wouldn’t move, and my brain was blank. I was distracted, but there wasn’t a single thing in front of me that was actually a distraction. It was quiet and loud at the same time, and I couldn’t move. I knew that I had to do something, but everything seemed to require too much energy. Even picking up my phone and doomscrolling seemed like a chore.
So I went back to bed.
The bed was already made, so I just lay on top of the covers and used my husband’s sleep mask. I tried to cocoon myself as much as possible and just let the darkness wash over me. Years ago, I visited a sensory deprivation tank, and I tried to recreate the experience as much as I could. I wanted to feel nothing and something all at the same time. From prior experience, I know that it could get pretty loud in my head, but I just needed to do something that made me feel like I was moving forward, instead of just stuck, waiting for something to happen for me.
There was a question that popped up. Not immediately. I had to “wade” myself through a room of distractions to get to it. But once I got there, I felt the need to act. If I emptied the metaphorical room of distractions, swept out the corners, and knocked down the cobwebs, what would be the first thing that I would allow to be put back into the room? If I took away all the distractions, good and bad, what would I allow back into my life?
Logically, I knew this for what it was: a visualization exercise that I hadn’t intended to practice. In the past, I have struggled with visualization exercises because I tend to believe what I can witness. I believe in the power of the mind, but not that I am going to make things come true just because I imagine them that way. I have been disappointed too many times by my imagination to believe such nonsense. (I’m still waiting to see a unicorn.) But this happened so organically that I decided to give it more credence than I normally would. I also needed to take my room of distractions from my mind to the real world.
Getting up from bed, I had an idea. I went looking for a box. The box I had in mind was not where I thought it should be, but I was determined not to get distracted, so I adjusted my plan. I found another box, smaller than the one I had intended, but the bigger box that I had also found scared me, so I went with the smaller box because it felt less intimidating. I then found an old pad of sticky notes and a pen (one of my distractions is to be sure to use up whatever I have on hand), and I began to write down all of my distractions, good and bad. I then stuffed them into the box.
At first, the distractions came hard and fast. I was scribbling all sorts of things: give the dog a bath, misspelled words, the Costco list, where has my fountain pen gone? I didn’t so much struggle to get them down as I couldn’t get them out of my head fast enough. (My messy handwriting also distracted me, but I managed not to rewrite any notes I deemed sloppy.) And then the flow started to slow down, and the deeper, darker stuff started to come out. I had to stop, but at least I felt like I could move and that I had taken some step forward. On my table sat my own little Pandora’s box of distractions, and I could open it if I wanted to, or leave it closed until I was ready to deal with what was inside. They were no longer in my head, taking up valuable mental space. They aren’t going anywhere, but at least now they were out of my way, and I could start putting my room back together in a more organized and appealing manner.
But what to put back first? I wasn’t able to answer that question right away, because there are distractions that are so important that they had to be sorted and considered foremost among everything else. Just like a bedroom needs a bed, a kitchen needs a sink, or a library needs books, certain things like family belong in my room of distractions and have to be placed so that I can prioritize them. I refuse to let them get lost or forgotten among all the other things in the room. Well, I guess that answers what I would I would put back in the room first. Now to just sort the rest, when I am ready.
Right now, my box is beside me with a sticky pad and pen at the ready. When I initially envisioned this idea, I thought of my distractions as furniture, objects to be rearranged and put into order of priority. But l like this box idea a little more. Not only because it’s tangible, and I can stuff whatever is distracting me at the moment in there and close the lid. But also because, just as Pandora’s box held joy and mercy, my box holds my family-my favorite distraction-as well as my hopes for something greater for myself.
This idea of finding your “more” is not a revolutionary one. As I mentioned, it’s a favorite of self-help gurus and emo teenage boys everywhere. But for those of us who get distracted, and may not even realize how distracted we are, it is revolutionary. It puts us back in control of our own lives and starts to unbind us from those things that are taking away from our “more.”
No, I didn’t find my “more” this morning, but I did find a way to navigate my path, uninterrupted, while I work to find my “more.” There will be things that I am going to have to deal with; this is the truth of life. But I’m going to keep my box at the ready for those things that don’t require or deserve my attention. I’ll write them down and keep them shut up until I have succeeded in finding my “more.” Nothing is going to distract me.