Make a list. Cross each item off. Make a list. Cross each item off.
The furious scribbling of pencil against sticky notes and scrap papers had become almost clockwork to me and drove me to always stay working. And the work never ended. Even as I kept crossing off the words on those lists, all those tasks ever did was grow in number.
At first the habit seemed harmless, just a way to keep track of tasks for a party my family was throwing, but the lines drawn through the quickly written words taught me just how much I was forgetting.
Tasks needed to become smaller, because one task was really five tasks in disguise. That wasn’t even all. Often, I would wake up in the mornings, my mind calmed by sleep, only to remember three more tasks that I needed to add to my list.
Remember, add, remember, add.
The habit became a cycle.
Not that the cycle was without use. Lists were made. Tasks were done. In that way, I was successful.
But looking at the mess of scribbles, staring down at the lists upon lists that blurred into a single mass of work, I noticed one task that hadn’t yet been crossed off.
Relax.
I couldn’t help but feel silly staring down at that uncrossed word. Relaxing was the sort of chore that the body was supposed to do automatically. A mindless task in the way that I shouldn’t have needed to think to complete the work, to be satisfied enough to cross the word off on my list. But the word was still there, and if that scribble of pencil lead had eyes, I knew it would be staring at me in judgment.
And, of course, I was thinking about relaxing. A task that required no thought, but my mind raced with the thoughts and ideas of how I could’ve messed up.
Making lists had been a harmless habit to start. Maybe those lists were still completely harmless. But my obsession with adding and completing tasks had forced me to look at what I had been forgetting to do.
So, I made a new list.
This new list wasn’t one of one-time tasks and simple to-dos, as the words on my first list had been about. Instead, I visualized a world where I took care of my needs, and a world where I made sure I had fun between the days of work.
As the summer wound down, and my focus shifted from a party to moving back to Oklahoma for school, work still needed to be done. Tasks still needed to be made: “buy new clothing,” “buy kitchen equipment for the new apartment,” and “pack suitcases” were among the many that filled my lists.
But this time I limited those lists. I only allowed myself to write down a few tasks per day, and once I finished those, I looked back at that new list. There, I had reminders of what I could do when I was finished, instead of just throwing myself into more work. Everything from “play a video game” to “use a face mask” was there, ready for me to give my mind a break for once.
Was it always perfect? Of course not.
There were still days where I found myself reaching for more work instead, as if I could forget the list sitting on my dresser. And there were days where none of those items on my new list sounded pleasing at all and left me stuck in a state of trying to desperately rest while having nothing to preoccupy myself.
But it’s a step. And, as people always say, it’s one step at a time.
One video game at a time.
One face mask at a time.
And one list at a time.
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