I have anxiety.
In clinical terms, I am diagnosed with general anxiety, social anxiety, and panic disorder.
There are some good things about it, and I’m glad to be in a place where I can see the positives. I’m organized, aware, care deeply for the needs and feelings of others, and am highly introspective.
And there are some not-so-good things.
Basically, when any of the above goes out of whack. Organization becomes inflexibility. Awareness becomes panic. Caring too much about what other people think inhibits my own personal growth.
And that introspection? Boy does that keep me up at night.
I’m lucky to have found a therapist I’ve been working on these things with for years.
But she’s not there at 2 am when I’m thinking for the umpteenth time about what I should have said in a meeting, or how to solve a lack of communication and collaboration amongst teams, or if I set up a Trello board will anyone at the company ever actually use it?
It’s hard for me to stop thinking. And it’s hard for me to compartmentalize work.
In these moments, on very rare occasions, I’m struck with a flash of brilliance, such as what happened to me the other night.
When I was up thinking about how I wish I’d had a more articulate response to a client’s sudden question about my coaching purpose, my bleary 2 am mind asked myself,
“Are you getting paid to think about this?”
“No.”
“Then stop.”
It was as laughably simple as that.
And yet so powerful when the rumination returns on my lunch break and my mind is turning over and over again on how best to convey the value of focused priorities and the inefficiency of multi-tasking to a team that wants to do everything at once.
“Am I getting paid to think about this?”
“No.”
I’m not saying this is an instant fix. It’s going to take constant practice and discipline. (“But I want to plan out my Mural board in my head for a meeting that’s three weeks away!”)
But it’s helped make things just a little bit easier than they were before.
And as a coach, sometimes that’s all you can ask for.
Photo by Avery Evans on Unsplash