#julia is just someone who happens to sometimes occupy the same space

[faeryeyedking-arc]

it’s wild how julia makes assumptions about margo based on literally nothing. apparently having nice hair means you’re also vapid and have to scare people into being your friend.

[psychotherapyconsultants]

Are You Making Your Days More Complicated in These Ways?

Life isn’t easy. But sometimes we make it a lot harder than it has to be. We engage in habits that unwittingly create problems in our lives—or exacerbate them. Sometimes, the complications we create are simple. That is, they’re straightforward, and have a clear-cut solution.

Other times we need to delve deeper, so we can resolve the issue at the root. Below you’ll find examples along with some fixes and solutions.

You’re making to-do lists that you know you won’t get done.

Every day your to-do list inevitably includes 10-too-many tasks, each of which may or may not have multiple steps. And every night inevitably you end up feeling awful that you didn’t complete any of it. Maybe you have unrealistic, sky-high expectations. Maybe you think you should be able to get all that stuff done.

According to Julia Colangelo, LCSW, a solution-focused therapist in New York City, one helpful fix is to divide your to-do list into “must-do” and “would-like-to-do.” Then actually incorporate the must-dos into your schedule, and think of them as meetings, she said.

Sometimes, we make endless to-do lists because we think (perhaps subconsciously) that we need to earn our worth, and we’re not good enough unless we’re performing—and performing a lot.

If you suspect that this might be the case, Colangelo suggested journaling regularly, either in a notebook or on the notes app on your phone. Reflect on your thoughts on work, accomplishments, and relaxation. Have you always felt the need to achieve and execute, maybe even since grade school? Has your self-worth been closely tied to your accomplishments? Do you believe that you deserve to rest only after you’ve done certain tasks?

Consider, too, if you’re running away from something by trying to keep yourself busy and occupied without any space to breathe and think. Reflect on what it would mean to say no, or to do nothing, Colangelo said. She mentioned Jon Kabat-Zinn’s wise quote: “The bravest thing we can do is to do nothing.” What happens when you do nothing? Where does your mind go? What feelings arise?

You’re overscheduling less important areas of your life, which encroach on the more important ones.

Another way we complicate our days is by jam-packing our schedules at the expense of more important areas of our lives (such as caring for our emotional wellness), Colangelo said.

“Overscheduling leads to exhaustion, resentment and anxiety,” said Holly Willard, LCSW, a therapist and owner of Grandview Family Counseling in Bountiful, Utah.

As a solution, Willard suggested identifying what values and relationships are important to you, and then prioritizing your activities based on those values.

“Zen philosophy teaches two steps to simplifying your life,” she said. “Step one: Identify what’s most important to you; step two: Eliminate everything else.”

Author Laura Vanderkam has an excellent tip for not overbooking yourself and judging whether something is worth your time. Ask yourself: “Would I do this tomorrow?” Maybe you’re booked solid tomorrow, but if it’s something you’re interested in or excited about, you’d probably move things around and make the time. So if you’re not interested or excited about it right now, you likely won’t be in a month or two either (and it’s best to decline).

When it comes to caring for yourself, Michele Kerulis, a professor at Counseling@Northwestern, the Online Master of Arts in Counseling program from The Family Institute at Northwestern University, has an important reminder: “We know that we must show up for ourselves before we can show up for the world as our best selves.”

She suggested scheduling time “for self-care every day to help reduce physical and psychological stress and to help increase focus and attention.” Colangelo suggested making several windows of time each day to devote to self-care. This could be anything from practicing yoga for a few minutes to focusing on your breath to sitting on a park bench for lunch to listening to a favorite song.

You’re constantly comparing yourself to everyone.

These comparisons might be subtle. As Willard said, you find yourself scrolling through social media when you’re having a tough time, and “it feels like all of your friends are in a tropical paradise.”

You might compare yourself to everyone about everything, from houses to hair, from clothing to careers, from bodies to talents.

While we can’t completely eliminate comparison making, we can shift our perspective.

According to Willard, “Comparison is based on a scarcity mentality: the belief that there are limited resources and someone else’s success takes away from ours.” She recommended a tip from researcher Brené Brown: When we find ourselves starting to compare, practice gratitude. (These 50 prompts might help.)

Also, the comparisons we make may be clues into our dreams and desires. Ask yourself if you really want what you see. And whether you do or don’t, consider why? Try to pinpoint the need that underlies the comparison. For instance, do you really want to go on that same vacation, or are you yearning to have fun and reconnect with your family anywhere?

You don’t make a definitive plan for your days.   

Planning adds ease to our days, Kerulis said. She commended taking at least 10 minutes every day to plan out the next day. This could include small things, like what you’re eating for breakfast and wearing to work, and big things like what projects you’re starting.

Vanderkam plans out her week on Friday afternoons. She makes a short priority list with three categories: work, relationships, self. Then she chooses two to three things she’d like to do in each category, and schedules them in her calendar.

It’s also important to have backup plans when things don’t go as you planned. For instance, Kerulis suggested taking the time to think about how you’ll navigate your commute in bad weather. As she said, “we can’t control mother nature but we can at least try to plan around her seasons.” You might create backup plans for days your child is sick and can’t attend daycare. 

You’re complicating your days in another way.

Think about daily behaviors or habits that seem problematic. You’re staying up too late, and running late to work because your hand is permanently planted on the snooze button. You keep procrastinating on cleaning out the garage. You keep making small mistakes on your work projects.

Instead of looking at external fixes, go within, according to Panthea Saidipour, LCSW, a Manhattan psychotherapist who works with professionals in their 20s and 30s who want to gain a deeper understanding of themselves.

Take the first example: Staying up late is causing you to be late for work three days in a row. You think “It’s really dumb,” and all you want to do is get to sleep on time, she said.

If you simply focus on your sleep, you might miss a “deeper conversation about what’s going on for [you] internally.” In other words, Saidipour wants to know what’s happening during the day, internally and externally. She wants to know what you’re doing when you’re staying up late. For instance, if you’re scrolling Instagram mindlessly, what specific people are you looking at? Is there a theme to the content you’re choosing to pay attention to?

“Exploring all of this will give us clues about what the external behavior is doing for [you]. Is it an attempt to manage a difficult feeling, or a way to feel something [you’re] not getting enough of during the day? What’s going on in other parts of [your] life that this could be an attempt to cope with?”

Maybe your work has been especially grueling. As Saidipour noted, maybe staying up late has been your only way of feeling a sense of freedom over your own schedule. Maybe waking up late isn’t just a response to sleep deprivation—it’s “an unconscious protest against work.”

Having this deeper understanding of what’s going on might empower you to adjust your “work-life boundaries, to speak up and tell your boss that your workload isn’t working for you, or even to pursue other jobs that could be a better fit for you—all very useful, healthy protests!”

Saidipour stressed the importance of “developing a deeper, more nuanced understanding of the ‘problem.’” That’s because this is “where we find access to more of our own choices and deeper fulfillment.”

from World of Psychology https://psychcentral.com/blog/are-you-making-your-days-more-complicated-in-these-ways/

[69tell-blog]

Windowpane [EXCERPT]

1st Chapter, Villa Vance.

         I hear footsteps coming down the hallway, probably Julia, my brother’s girlfriend. The three of us just started living in this apartment about a month ago. I still haven’t unpacked all my things and boxes crowd my room. I’m happy that Terrence isn’t selfish and that Julia can stand me. If not for those two I don’t know where I’d be. It’s been rough for me since graduation; my degree seems not to have made finding a job easy at all, and I’d settle for fast-food or retail, but I hate dealing with people. It’s awkward and sometimes embarrassing for me. In a perfect world, I’d have a desk at a prominent magazine or newspaper company. Alas, The freelance gigs I’ve been so loyal to are paying less & less now. Money is tight.          Her footsteps get louder; she pauses briefly before turning the doorknob, without a knock.          She walks in; her face is flushed. I can tell she’s upset about something, or someone.          “My God Vill, do you ever plan on cleaning up around here? I mean seriously, it’s like you haven’t unpacked a single thing. Are you living out of a box? She asks. “And another thing, when are you going to start working? Me and Terrence can’t pay for this place alone you know!”          “Well, I’m trying my best & that’s all I can tell you. I know money is tight, I know I’m not working. I’m sure I’ll find a job soon, I’ve been applying to a lot of publications. Don’t let my junky room distract you; I’m getting everything straightened out, believe it.”          I say that I’ve been trying, but the truth is, I haven’t applied myself at all. I haven’t filled any applications out. This white lie is all I need to buy some time until I can find something I can bear. To me, it seems selfish to be so choosy when I know Terrence and Julia are handling most of the bills. I’m optimistic that I’ll come across something soon and if not… there can’t be an “if not.” I’d never let them know the truth; they couldn’t understand. I just need a little while longer.          “I’ve got an interview with Express tomorrow morning.” I lie.          “Well, that’s a start I guess.” Her tone softens, and she becomes a concerned mother, worried that her scolding has hurt her child’s feelings.          “You know I don’t mean to get so worked up, but Me and Terrence can’t afford to keep splitting these bills alone. We have other places we need to spend our money Vill, and we’re counting on you for relief.”          “I know Julia, I know. I’m trying my hardest to pull it together.”          “Okay.”          She walks out, closing the door behind her. I’m relieved she didn’t ask what Express was, I wouldn’t have had an answer. It’s just some company I saw in a magazine before. Julia’s concern is a sign that I need to make a move soon. I figure that as long as Express is a part of my lie, I may as well look into it. I pull the magazine out from one of the boxes I rummaged through last night and flip to the last page. It reads “Express — Highway to life, now hiring. Call 1 333 999 9966.”          I grab the house phone, but before I can lift a finger to dial, I hear a knock, an entrance more subtle than the last.          “Come in,” I answer. No response.          “Come in!” I shout. Still, no answer.          I get up to check and see who’s knocking and why they didn’t they just walk in. I crack the door a little and peep through the opening; no one is there. Probably Terrence is playing a joke on me, though it isn't very funny. I shrug it off and get ready to redial the number.          Then, another knock on the door.          “Terrence I’m in the middle of something, stop kidding around!” I shout.          He didn’t respond. I quickly get up to answer the door once again, this time more furious and agitated. I fling the door open and out pops Terrence from behind a corner. He’s wearing a Ghostface mask.          “Am I supposed to be scared?”          “Haha, you fell for it last time.”          “Which is why it didn’t work this time. I was right in the middle of an important call, so I’m not going for any of your shenanigans. Julia just got on my case about not having a job, so this is serious. I think she’ll be less flustered once I land something; I'll pull my weight around here too.”          “Well, guess what Villy. You don’t have to worry anymore! You can keep all your money buddy. I’ve got everything covered. I thought my shenanigans might brighten your day since you’re always moping around here looking depressed and shit.”           “What are you talking about? How can you have everything covered? Do you know what you're saying? The rent here is way too much for one person to handle, and I know that call center isn’t paying that much.”          He begins to explain his luck at being offered a position with a new organization called Express. The same company I was about to call and apply. He's ecstatic to tell me the salary and how much fun the job is. Oddly, he never sheds light on what the job entails. When I ask, he changes the subject, over and over, every time I ask. There’s nothing I want to know more than the type of work involved. Every ad I saw was bereft of anything more than a cheesy slogan.          I had heard enough of Terrence's stories. It’s good that he found a high paying job but if he covers everything I’ll feel like a freeloader. I hurried to end the conversation. When he finished talking, I praised him and continued my phone call with Express.          "Hello—Express Career Services, my name is Jenny. How may I help you?"          "Yes, Ms. Jenny, I'd like information about any job openings you have."          "Okay sir, may I please have your name and SSN?"          Social security? That’s peculiar. I’m not inclined to divulge the information, but since Terrence got the job, he must have gone through the same process.          "Oh… yes ma'am, of course. My name is Villa Vance and my So—"          “Villa Vance!” She exclaims. Sir, please meet me at my office, tomorrow at 5:00 p.m. sharp. Thank you. Click!          "But where is your office? Where do I need to go?" I was talking to myself; she had already hung up the phone.          It seemed promising, in fact, I almost had a little hope that things would turn around. Now, I'm back at square one. Why couldn't the lady just tell me where her office was before she hung up. How could she expect me to know where to go or how to get there.          The phone began to make a dial tone. I had forgotten to dismiss the call. I click end and flop onto my bed. The plan was to go to college, get a bachelor’s degree in English, then snag a job writing for a company or teaching. The plan failed. In reality, I’m sitting in a room full of boxes with no clue what to do next. In a moment, every depressive thought of my future begins to creep into my consciousness, so the walls close in and my brain feels too big for my head with every analysis fighting the other for a space to occupy. From college, life has never seemed this volatile. I’m used to a set routine with predictable outcomes. Now, I truly don’t know what’s to come next or how well I can handle it. I’m already unstable. Tonight will be cold I know. I should get to bed.          Writing is the only thing that ever helped me relieve stress. Before I go to sleep, I have to write in my journal. It’s something I’ve done since I was a little boy. By documenting what happens in the past, I can remember it easier than a mere memory. My memory is frail. I write in detail, lest I forget a single instance.          I grab my notebook and a pen to jot down everything that took place today. When I woke up this morning, I found that my cell phone had stopped working. For some reason, it wouldn’t cut on. Next, I couldn’t find the remote to the TV, even though I distinctly remember putting it on my nightstand before going to bed last night. Which was right after I looked through a box of magazines, where I found the Express ad.          I continue to write about my day until the ink in my pen runs out. Of course, the ink would run out. With everything going wrong, why would anything decide to go in the right direction? I don’t remember having another pen in my drawer, but I check anyway. I open it up to behold a bright red pen I never knew existed, Express is printed in small white words on the side. Before I reach to pick the pen up, I hear a voice. It shouts in my ear, “Express!.”          I jolt back and quickly check my surroundings. Maybe I had been awake too long. My clock says 1 a.m. as if I’d been writing that long. At any rate, How did this pen get in the drawer?          “Walk toward the window.” The voice calls. And like a fool I follow. I walk to my window and peek through the blinds to see no one.          This better not be another one of Terrence’s tricks. No, it couldn’t be.          “Open it!” The voice shouts.          But I won’t move, I’m not willing to open a window for a voice alone. I don’t know who or where the speaker is. I’m reviewing every concept of reality introduced to me, trying to disprove them all to explain how and why this is happening.          “This is for your own good.” It whispers.          Suddenly, My hand moves to the window without my permission. I slide the lock to the left and slowly raise the glass. My body is no longer under my control. It has a will of its own. Terror and confusion have replaced any sense of security and common sense I had. The chilling wind from the draft of the open window bites my lip with a gust that is much more bitter than it should be. The calling voice spirals from a whisper to a mumble. Finally, an obnoxious shout breaks my thought.         “You are no longer a part of this world. Listen to my voice to uncover great wisdom. You must understand before you walk blindly. I am here to lead you, accept my presence and follow my will. Let your body do the work. Put your mind to rest.” It claims.          Before I knew it, I climbed out of the window. The wind whipped so rapidly that it hurt to hold my eyes open, so I kept them closed. I'm now dangling from the third floor of an apartment building without a hint as to what will happen next. My body is frozen, I can't see, and a seemingly benevolent, but eerie voice is dictating my actions. It told me to let my mind rest. It feels like this voice knows me. Does this entity have control of my body? Something I thought was a joke at first has changed into a phenomenon I can’t fathom, let alone explain. If I am no longer a part of this world, then what world have I entered?          I've been dangling for at least ten minutes now, and the voice hasn’t yielded another command since. My arms have yet to tire out, and despite a severe, arctic wind, I’ve resisted hypothermic shock.          Then, all motion of the wind stopped, and something began to counteract the bitter cold. It was dark outside, but now I feel rays of light surround me. My eyes remain closed; I begin to imagine the environment around me. It feels like I’ve arrived in a place where sunshine and light are persistent and dazzling. What is this world?          I'm no longer dangling from the window of an apartment building, but now standing straight up with little space between my feet. My back is erect, and my head is tilted slightly up. My eyes are still closed, but this is by choice. I'm not ready to see.          The voice calls me by my first name. I'm not willing to answer this soon. I don't feel like I should have to speak, I’m the one expecting answers. After a long pause, the voice seems to fade away, while murmuring what sounded like a rant. I stand here, quietly and patiently, as my life whirls around in my noggin. I think about Terrence and Julia; the debt and trouble I'm in. I question the possibility of all this being a dream. I convince myself that it is indeed an odd dream, which gives a good reason as to why I have not yet opened my eyes. Perhaps, once I open them, I'll be in my room lying on the bed.          That's it; it's time to stop this dream. I'll count to three and open my eyes. One... Two... Th— “Are you ready Villa?” The voice interrupts.