Revelations in Time Management, Isolation, and Extroversion

I've gotten a little of track the past couple weeks with my other blog...not quite keeping up with my weekly deadline as well as I would like. I think for the most part, I've been handling my weekly challenge in a healthy way, not becoming too obsessed about it or too upset with myself when I'm a few days late or when my projects are not as awe-inspiring as I think they should be.

But this week, I had a breakdown...one of my hardest falls in a very long time. I was in deep despair over my future and my ability to be a functional human being. Here's what happened:

Jason and I made plans to hang out in our guest room/craft room/study. He was going to blog or study Greek, and I was going to make something. But then Jason remembered that there was an event on campus that he was supposed to attend, and I told him that was fine. I had plenty to do to keep myself busy. So he left, and I looked around the kitchen and thought about making dinner, but the sink was full of dirty dishes, including the pan I needed, so I sat down on the couch and started reading The Last Unicorn, which apparently is this great fantasy classic that I had never read. (I'm about half way through now, and I can't say that the story is very compelling or that the characters are overly likable, but it is very well written.) So I started reading, and with every approaching end of a chapter, I told myself that I would get up off the couch and make myself dinner and then I would get started on a crafty project. The chapters slipped by, and so did the hours, and before I knew it, it was almost 9:00, and I was still on the couch. I hadn't eaten a thing. And I had no energy to get up and be productive, even in a fun and creative way.

This happens to me a lot. I'll have these great big plans to do something when Jason is gone, and I'll end up wasting my entire night. The reality of this hit me that night, and I completely lost it. I began to think about what it is going to take for me to be able to start my own business: discipline, perseverance, energy, motivation, drive, passion, initiative. I began telling myself that I didn't have any of these qualities and that I would never succeed because I am incapable of being alone. I told myself that I was completely dysfunctional and that I would always have to have a job that I hated because I can't do anything by myself. It was unbearably depressing. I spent quite a long time crying on the bathroom floor in the dark.

When Jason and I talked about my melt down, I told him that I wished that I wasn't so dysfunctional, that I could just be a normal human being. I told him that when I'm by myself, I am incapable of conjuring up the energy to be anything but lazy and unmotivated. And he told me that that doesn't make me dysfunctional--that makes me an extrovert. He said that feeling lonely doesn't make me less of a person--it makes me human. And that's alright. He suggested that when I'm by myself, I should set smaller goals like "eat dinner," and if that's all I do, that's okay. Emily gave me similar advice a few weeks ago when I was in Chicago, saying that doing nothing was a perfectly sufficient way to spend an evening by myself, and I should give myself permission to do that. Through Jason's and Emily's counsel, I came to the following realization:

I shouldn't expect my alone time to be my most productive time.

That might seem small and inconsequential. Or it may seem absurdly obvious to anyone who knows me well. I have always been more productive when someone else is in the room, even if we don't say a word to each other. By their mere presence, they energize me for the task at hand. And yet, when I have time to myself, I expect that I should be able to accomplish great feats of creative brilliance, complete and concrete and furiously productive. Clearly, those are ridiculous expectations. But I don't think I'm alone in envisioning that artists should be able to create by themselves. And I so desperately want to be an artist.

Jason and I went to convocation this morning at Gordon. (Convocation is kinda like chapel but more academically focused. Every Friday instead of chapel, there is convocation. The theme for convocation this year is Creativity.) There were a panel of faculty, each presenting a different aspect of creativity. One professor started her presentation by naming several creative people: Albert Einstein, Pablo Picasso, some writer I had never heard of. She asked us to picture each person. She asked if we envisioned them with the tools of their craft. Most people did. Then she asked if anyone pictured these creative geniuses with anyone else. Not a single hand was raised. She said that is was interesting and devastating how our culture elevates the work of the individual and conjures stereotypes that we can and should and do accomplish great things in isolation. The reality is that each of the creative people she mentioned had a co-collaborator, someone to listen and reflect their ideas. She reminded us that we were created to be social beings. That is not a weakness. Our need for other people is a mark of the image of God in us. Even God Himself creates in the community of the Trinity. If we are His image-bearers, how much more do we, the created, need to approach creative work in a communal context!

It was healing for me to hear today that even the most brilliant creators in history did not create in a vacuum of isolation. It gives me hope that I can achieve something after all. It gives me the freedom to need people and to be honest with myself about that need. And maybe if I can be honest about my needs, I can slow the crippling bottling I do when I am hurting. And maybe I can find the motivation to reach out to people, who might need me just as much as I need them.