I’ve been staring at that blinking cursor for a minute or two, debating how to open this essay. It began on the treadmill this morning, thinking about coming up to the office to write. My plan had been to try once again to rewrite an essay I’ve been working on for literally months. Just can’t get it right. I normally look forward to this task. Writing is a joyful experience for me, albeit sometimes immensely frustrating. While I usually need a deadline to actually get myself to put fingers to the keyboard, I am always thinking about writing and I look forward to those times I actually do it. Not today. When my mental response to thinking about working on that essay was, “ugh,” I knew I had an issue. I’ve been struggling with a lack of motivation in general for weeks now. I’m not sad or depressed (I don’t think). I’m not sick (I don’t think). I’m not just sitting around doing nothing. I get done what I need to get done and I still can laugh and have fun. I’m just not feeling motivated. So, I’m going to do what I often do when something is eating at me. I’m going to explore it through writing and hope to understand what is behind it by the words that end up on the page. Knowing that dealing with periods of low motivation is something everyone faces at one time or another, I thought sharing this thought process might help others, too.
I wrote about motivation this past fall. (Read part one here and part two here.) It was helpful to go back and read those essays, but they weren’t really addressing what is nagging at me. What does this lack of motivation look like? I haven’t been going to the Y more than once a week, which means few vigorous workouts. I’ve been going on long walks outside or on the treadmill, but these are more opportunities to catch up on podcasts or read emails than elevating my heartrate. I’ve had trouble focusing on reading, which is also uncharacteristic. My mind has just been wandering too much. I’ve been playing a lot of games on my iPad. I haven’t even been motivated to watch recorded TV shows. I haven’t been writing consistently in my journal. I’ve been allowing myself “high WW point” treats a little too often. Let’s just say I’ve been giving myself a LOT of grace. I am a champion grace giver. And, honestly, there’s nothing wrong with that.
I think what bugs me the most is that I don’t feel like I’m living in the present. Throughout much of my adult life, I was living for the future: “I’ll be happy when….” I was getting through each day, each week, each month working toward getting to some milestone—completing a big work project, getting through a difficult personal time, doing some project on the house, finally getting to go on vacation. But once that long anticipated event happened, there would be something else in the future that I would focus on that I thought would bring relief. Ever since I met Trish and especially once I retired, I have been living in the present. I have everything I could possibly want and feel extraordinarily blessed. I am truly grateful every day. The problem right now is that I feel like instead of living in the present that I am more…existing. (Before you start to comment, I know it sounds like I’m depressed, but stick with me a bit here.)
The next question I have for myself is, “What’s happened? What moved you from ‘living’ to ‘existing’?” Honestly, I think the cause is getting shoved out of my routine. Chalk this one up to the long list of “pandemic impacts”. We have established that I am a homebody and, due to my fortunate life circumstance (retired, financially comfortable, enjoy cooking, like spending lots of time with my wife), the pandemic restrictions have not really been a hardship on me. Don’t get me wrong! I very much enjoy traveling and being with friends! I’m just not used to it right now and restarting these activities has been, frankly, disrupting. Our two week trip to Utah in March was fantastic (except the journey home) and a true bucket list experience. But it threw me out of my routine and I can’t seem to get comfortable again. Of course, I’ve allowed myself to get a little too busy. I went to see my family in Atlanta a few weeks after coming home from Utah; I’ll be going to Baltimore for a long weekend to hang with college friends between penning this essay and publishing; and, the following weekend I’ll be going back to Atlanta for Mother’s Day. In between all of this, Trish and I are kicking off some serious renovations on our house, including a big redo of the kitchen. I am super excited about this, but talk about disruption! We plan to move out of the house in the fall when the work begins and we have about three million decisions to make before then. Interestingly, it’s not the decisions that are disturbing me. I’ve been having fun researching appliances and annotating the designs. It’s thinking of going through the process—packing up half the house, moving out, moving back when it’s all done—that has me overwhelmed. It’s like climbing a mountain to get to the valley on the other side. You know that the valley is worth the effort to climb the mountain, but all you see in front of you is that big hill. There’s a lot more. I cut out a whole discussion about the progression of my glaucoma and the things I am doing to save my sight and how I obsess about that. I cut out some family issues that have me distressed. I cut out lack-of-sleep stories. Trying to keep this to under 1500 words!
The final question is, “What do I DO about this situation? How do I get myself back?” Writing, of course, helps. It helps me better define what’s nagging at me. Once it’s defined, I can face it. Writing also gives me the accountability. I’m not just talking about putting this out there for those who read my work, or even the fact that now my mom and sister will probably keep checking in on me until I can report progress. It’s mostly about creating accountability within myself. I don’t just want to exist. I’ve worked too long and too hard (both at my career and on myself) to not take better advantage of every day in front of me. It’s a conscious choice every day—do I allow myself this moment of low energy or do I push myself to take that first step? I am acutely aware of the activation barriers I need to overcome to do something. Those barriers can be easy to overcome (“Get up and cook dinner if you want to eat at 6:00.”), a little more challenging (“Put make up on every day again, even if just to cover the dark circles under your eyes from the glaucoma meds.”), or significantly challenging (“Go to spin class. You know you’ll feel awesome afterwards.”) Go back to those first steps around personal accountability and intention. What is important to you today? Just today. You know those little successes build. Pick one thing that is important for you to do (or not do) today. Getting this first draft done was my one thing today. That felt good. Maybe I’ll pick another.
Stopping yourself when you slide into a motivational dip is important. No one is going to do it for you. Own up to what is causing it. Writing does that for me. What works for you? Give yourself enough grace to take the pressure off but not so much that you don’t take that first step. I think I’ll be bookmarking this essay for future reference.
CODA: I’m editing this essay after the trip to Baltimore for a college reunion. It was three exhausting days of overeating, overtalking, and overenjoying life. It was also just what I needed. I thought I’d come back and pick up my struggling just where I left off. But, after a couple of days of sleeping excessively and eating oatmeal and beans, I am raring to go! So, here’s a good message: feeling a lack of motivation? Go spend time with people outside of your daily bubble who love you.