FUCKED IF I KNOW
Let it be known that the only reason I'm writing this is so that I can prove to the never-ending chatter of negative thoughts in my head that I can actually do something for myself instead of working within the confines of what I get paid, and/or feel obliged to do.
Unrelated but beautiful photo of a sunflower field.
For many people, I am well aware that I am a poster child of productivity. I'm directing and editing a web series, studying for my Graduate Diploma, on the editorial board for a podcast, the media officer for the Australian Network of Student Anthropologists, and one of the photography managers for Farrago Mag. Yesterday, I even had to hold myself back from joining yet another board, this time for a student-run journal. This is on top of doing 'normal' things like cooking my food, socialising, visiting the gym, and you know... the weight of just being alive.
To the outsider, I might appear to have my shit together or, be really great at prioritising — of which my mum would have a few things to say — and maybe even branded as a 'workaholic'. Which, for the record, is a term I don't love on account of the fact that when your passion is something you get paid to do, you can't be anything except a workaholic because it permeates every fibre of your existence.
However, I'm not any of those things. I am in fact, just seriously anxious.
You may have noticed that I began this post by mentioning the confines of paid work or obligations. There is a reason for this. Anxiety is born out of a feeling of uncertainty; something you cannot control. To work within the confines of something, is to limit space, scope or time to a restricted activity.
Do you see where I'm getting at here? I appear to be extremely productive because working within the constraints of obligations and paid work are things that help me manage my anxiety.
The sweet satisfaction that comes with the swish of my pen as I cross off another item from my list, or the aesthetic of my iCal when I have successfully colour-blocked all of my obligations, are tasks to control my anxiety. If I have nothing to measure my productivity against, am I really doing anything at all?
Even those — albeit rare — times where I am sitting around my room at 9pm post to-do list completion trying to relax but inevitably reading a book pertaining to my work is a form of control, management and suppression. Sure, I might be getting things done, but I'm also feeding a beast that has taken up residence in my brain since I was about 7 years old.
My need for confinement rears its ugly head especially during or after times of trauma and mass-uncertainty (hello global pandemic). Because I cannot control what is happening to me externally, I am able to manage it internally by focusing on projects that require time management and tangible outputs. It is both logical and so very illogical all at once. Especially because deep down, I am a person who hates confinement of any kind, especially of my physical self. I am both craving the opportunity to explore my curiosity, but simultaneously afraid of the freedom that comes with it.
If you're perhaps wondering why I work when I travel (pre-pandemic times), it is because it is a way to mitigate my guilt and anxiety about having the means to travel. Ignoring the other benefits of 'digital nomading', to view this activity through a lens that considers this side of my anxiety, earning a living and travelling is not dissimilar to keeping a dog on one of those traction rope leads. You can give it as much space as it desires (within reason) but it's still inevitably attached to the leash.
A few weeks ago I said to my psychiatrist (by the way I see a psychiatrist now so that's fun), I just want to be paid to think about things, and then write and or photograph those things.
My working class upbringing tells me: This dream is too highfalutin and definitely not practical. Who really gets paid to think hahaha? You should do something more practical with your time because being paid to explore one's curiosities is not something you can make a living out of. Do you want to rent houses forever? Sure you might have enough money now, but what about retirement? What about if you want to have a family? You'll have to marry very wealthy to be able to afford that kind of lifestyle.
Of course, all work comprises of a thinking and production component, no matter what class structure you come from. Arguably even being a housewife would require me to think of things and then produce things, and I don't even get paid to do that job!
So I suppose that yes, I am a workaholic and a productivity poster child, but I'm also a nervous, anxious wreck. I'm only writing this blog post to prove to myself that I can set my mind to think and produce something that exists outside of the confines of what other people, places, and institutions expect of me. Will many people read this? Absolutely not, but measuring the worth of activity against a financial reward or a person's attention retention isn't exactly the point.
Also, as a sub-note, I do think it's worth acknowledging that having my own mental barriers — even when they can be quite debilitating — is still a very privileged barrier to hurdle across compared to many, many others. Is this also a way of me justifying my anxiety and therefore giving it more power? Yes. The mind is an interesting place.