Who knows what madness was going on last night.

But I woke up this morning with that clenched, tight sense of GAAAAAAH Seventeen million things to do that all need to be done right this second or everything will fall apart completely.

Having spent many years getting acquainted with my fuzzy-but-loud Urgency Monsters, I knew this probably wasn’t true.

But it felt true in my body.

So in the interest of consciously, lovingly and patiently moving elements of this pattern around (the way we do with Shiva Nata), I am experimenting.

Today I will do ten things.

Not seventeen million.

Not even going to try to play the well-as-many-of-these-as-I-can-despite-knowing-the-futility game.

And I’m not letting the List-Makers of Doom come up with the ten.

I’m asking for ten qualities I want to experience today. And each one can give me a thing to do or not do.

And that’s it.

Doom Interlude I

Doom Monsters: This is one of your forced vacations! We won’t have it.
Me: No. This is what is going to happen when you wake me up with visions of impending doom. I get that this feels uncomfortable. It’s uncomfortable for me too. And it’s an experiment.

Doom Monsters: It won’t work.
Me: Well, you kind of say that a lot. So let’s leave it to the internal investigators and find out what happens.

Ten qualities.

  • Sweetness.
  • Rest.
  • Trust.
  • Certainty.
  • Expectancy.
  • Giving.
  • Receiving.
  • Quiet.
  • Love.
  • Sovereignty (the quality of being comfortable in the kingdom of your body and your mind and not caring what other people think about that).

Doom Interlude II

Doom Monsters: You are delusional. There are Actual Things that have to be done today. You can’t just get out of them because you turned into this dumbass hippie yoga teacher several years. We want YOU back! Come back!
Me: Oh, sweetie. That has to be really hard for you. I love that you miss this version of me that you remember with such fondness. You know what I remember about her?

Doom Monsters: Uh oh.
Me: Yeah. How you used to scream at her all the time. And how she would just shut down. You liked that she was compliant. But sometimes she was depressed to the point of not-functioning because your worldview was so overwhelming.

Doom Monsters: We were just trying to protect her from the Doom.
Me: I know, guys. Your heart is totally in the right place. And at the same time, you know, because we’ve talked about this … yelling and harassing is not the effective way to help me get things done.

Doom Monsters: Theoretically, yes. But we just want you to be okay. And it is so, so impossibly hard to believe that the stuff you’re trying will work.
Me: I appreciate that you want me to be okay. That’s what I want too. And you don’t have to believe anything. We’ll try it for a day and take notes.

Ten Things.

  • Doing my morning rituals. Love.
  • Going for a long walk. Trust.
  • Mailing Hiro her birthday present. Sweetness.
  • Having a longer conversation with Anxious Me. Receiving.
  • Thinking — not planning but thinking about — my next Rally. Sovereignty.
  • 15 minutes of old Turkish lady yoga. Certainty.
  • Journaling about a wish I have. Expectancy.
  • Preparing for client consultation this afternoon. Quiet.
  • Call with client. Giving.
  • Taking a nap or reading in bed. Rest.

Doom Interlude III

Doom Monsters: This is insanity. You can’t put things on your list that get done anyway. This should be ten things aside from client calls or your usual morning rituals. You don’t even understand how lists work! GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

Me: I can tell you’re feeling really upset and anxious about this. Because you care and you don’t want me to get hurt?
Doom Monsters: Obviously.

Me: What about how we agreed to experiment?
Doom Monsters: But your experiment is stupid. Just saying. And it’s also doomed!

Me: There’s really no way to find out unless you stop trying to sabotage it. I think you’re afraid it will work and that I’ll stop talking to you altogether because I won’t need you anymore.
Doom Monsters: Okay.

Me: I’m right, huh?
Doom Monsters: Please don’t leave us.

Me: We’re building a new relationship, remember?. And if you can stop dooming me all the time, maybe you can stay in a different form.
Doom Monsters: grumble-grumble-grumble okay

Ten Things.

It might not even be ten.

It might be more than ten.

It might just be talking to Doom Monsters all day and remembering how much they love me.

Remembering how I don’t have to agree to being loved like that. Remembering that things can change.

When it gets hard, which it probably will, I’m going to remember that this is an experiment. And that, statistically speaking, experiments like this have done a great deal to keep me from falling apart completely and having to go on Emergency Vacation.

I get to change the rules. I get to wear silly hats. I get to be afraid.

My Doom Monsters have some pretty compelling arguments, after all.

They know I’m the sole bread winner (god, that is such a Doom Monster phrase) in our home. They know this company is my baby and that I am a sucker for self-sacrifice. They know how much I care.

Patterns, again.

The thing I know from being a Shivanaut is this:

There are many ways to interrupt a pattern. They don’t need to be violent. And the best way to do it is with curiosity, playfulness and a sense of humor.

To be willing to flail around in the chaos for a while, knowing that whatever new form emerges is going to be useful.

(The last Doom Interlude)

Doom Monsters: You know what people are going to say about this, right? How nice for you, working from home. How nice it must be having all this time to just go for a walk or take a nap. That must be so NICE.
Me: What are you saying?

Doom Monsters: We know you. We know how the first three years of running the business you were a sleepless wreck, working nights and weekends and both harder and longer hours than any straight job.
Me: Of course you know that. You were there. It was all your fault.

Doom Monsters: Yeah but the people who read your blog don’t know that. They’ll be off in their own stuff about how hard their lives are, and it will just annoy them that you’re blowing off your work.
Me: I’m not blowing off — oh, right. Smoke and mirrors. Okay. You’re feeling anxious because you need to know that people won’t misunderstand me?

Doom Monsters: Yes.
Me: That’s sort of sweet.

Doom Monsters: Gaaaaaaaaaaah. Stop. Being. Understanding. What if they misunderstand?
Me: Well, that would suck. But it’d just be because they don’t know how things really are. Anyway, they’re sovereign beings and can have whatever reaction they want.

Doom Monsters: Oh. So you’re going to be okay?
Me: I don’t know. That’s the point. It’s a practice. We’re experimenting. Experimenting and taking notes.
Doom Monsters: Oh.

And comment zen for today …

We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff.

We let people have their own experience, which means — among other things — that we don’t give advice, unless people ask for it (and you can generally assume that I’m not).

You’re more than welcome to share stories of your own, including any past or potential experiments in interacting with the doom and carving out space for yourself.

Kisses to the Commenter Mice, the Beloved Lurkers and anyone who reads.

The Fluent Self