> CD #53: The next better

I had every intention of coming back to you refreshed and filled with hope for this new (can it still be called new?) year, but alas, nothing has gone according to plan, and I’ve limped into 2022 as broken and bewildered as ever.

It feels to me that things started sliding after I lost my favourite mask in mid-December. It was handmade, sold by my local art supply store, with super comfortable ear loops, a secure fit, and a print that seemed magically to match everything I wear. It had been my trusty companion for a few momentous occasions—my second vaccine shot, the first day at my new job, the first time I taught a university class—and I miss it dearly, although it is not a “high-quality mask” and Omicron would’ve rendered it useless even if I hadn’t lost it.

Then the holiday season took it all out of me, despite our low-key, immediate-family-only celebrations. (It always takes more energy than you think, trying to give your children a sense of magic and wonder during the darkest, coldest time of the year.) I found myself unable to make the big push I’d planned on my book draft—actually, I started to doubt whether the story was worth telling at all. And the only thing I ended up accomplishing was watching some truly mindless television, and scrolling blankly through my social media feeds. Then started crying a lot, and my sleep got all messed up, which led to a cold sore, plus a touch of vertigo.

So I’ve been trying to be gentle with myself over the last few weeks, reminding myself that it’s been two full years of a global pandemic and the world is on fire and it’s the depths of winter in Canada, and maybe now is not the time for me to worry about being productive or meeting my own arbitrary and absurdly high artistic standards. Maybe all I can do right now is make a few crappy sketches, pretend I’ve done enough to call it a day, then climb into bed early with a hot water bottle so I can listen to music in the dark before falling asleep.

I recently read a great post by the poet Saeed Jones, where he shares some advice he heard from Shoshana Bean about how to get through these difficult times:

I’m paraphrasing but Shoshana basically explained that she’s trying to focus on “just getting to the next better feeling.” Think of it this way: instead of trying to leap all the way across the existential canyon from “hopelessness” to “joy.” Take it one step at a time. Try to get from “hopelessness” to “grief” to “outrage” to “anger” to “sadness” to “frustration” to “irritation”… There are still a lot more steps between “irritation” and “joy.” But each of them is an improvement, missteps included. And any of them are better than feeling hopeless.

He then takes that beautiful sentiment and applies it to his struggles with productivity:

Generally speaking, I think “productivity” is about quantity. It’s about more. I can create more. I can do more. I can accomplish more. But sometimes — or often! — we find ourselves lost in the canyon between goals. We want to be more productive, but just can’t squeeze more tasks or pages or emails out of ourselves. That happens; we need to recharge. In the meantime, what can we be instead? Maybe I’m not productive right now. But can I be curious? Caring? Kind? Attentive? 

What a lovely thought: “What can we be instead?” If I am feeling flattened by life and totally unproductive right now, I just need to aim for the next better feeling. And what is that for me, exactly? I’m not sure. But I think I can do “present” at the very least, and possibly even “receptive?”

This next better, like my cloth mask—and like this newsletter post, lol—may not be a “high-quality” solution, but it will have to do until I move on to the next next better.

:) Teresa

---

What is happening even?? Closet Dispatch is a free, limited-run weekly newsletter by Teresa Wong.