Trying to Think in a Time of Stress

I wrote a blog post over the weekend. Then, after it was published, I went back and reread it. And I noticed something startling. In half a dozen cases, I left out whole words. Not typos. Not the wrong word. Or even a missing letter. Simply no word at all.

And that’s not the all of it.

I’ve spent the last three months teaching myself to code. I’m at the point where I have a reasonable grasp on the basics and now need to put the isolated skills together in longer – and more difficult – projects.

And I just can’t do it.

The languages, which were starting to feel familiar, are now just swirling letters and punctuation on the screen.

I’ve had to take a step back and work on more bite-sized challenges, which luckily my brain seems able to digest. It’s pretty much the equivalent of baby rice cereal for the brain.

It’s been awhile since my brain has felt like this. Ten years to be exact.

My ex left in July 2009. We started school a couple weeks later.

It had been years since I had felt the need to work out problems ahead of time before giving them to the class. So it caught me off guard when I was trying to explain how to decode a word problem at the board and I got stuck.

My brain simply couldn’t handle a multi-step problem. There was limited retention. No attention span. Instead of problem-solving, my brain was simply returning the cognitive equivalent of the “spinning wheel of death.”

For the better part of a year, I had to make accommodations. I made notes to take to the board with me during lessons. Answer keys were prepared well in advance. I went back and re-taught myself things that I had known but was struggling to apply. Instead of reading my normal books, I gravitated towards young adult fiction with its easier-to-understand writing.

I was worried, afraid that this cognitive decline would be permanent.

But it wasn’t. In time, it returned to its original level.

And so I’m currently holding onto hope that the world – and my brain – will return to sanity again.

 

All over Twitter this week, I’ve seen people timidly admit that they’re struggling to focus. To think. To problem-solve.

They’re worried. That their reaction is abnormal. That they may never be able to think again. That something is wrong with them.

There’s nothing wrong with struggling to think while your brain is busy attending to other (and often scary) things.

Here’s a way to think about it. For the sake of argument, pretend that you’re a skilled knitter. In fact, you can normally knit a scarf automatically and you don’t struggle to follow a complex new pattern.

But now is not a normal time.

Because now, at least as far as your brain is concerned, you’re treading water in an attempt to stay afloat. And knitting has suddenly become a whole lot more difficult.

So if you’re struggling to think right now, know that you are having a perfectly normal response to an abnormal situation.

 

While you’re waiting for your stress to decline and your cognitive to ramp back up, here are a few tips:

 

  • Adjust your expectations. Don’t base them on what you can “normally” do. Remember, your brain is treading water right now.
  • Your attention span is shorter. Schedule breaks.
  • Chunk information into smaller pieces.
  • Provide support for your lack of retention. Get used to writing more things down than you had to before.
  • Give yourself opportunities to feel successful. Otherwise, frustration can easily get the best of you.
  • Intentionally reteach yourself things. It may feel silly to go back to 101 when you’re a professor in it, but that sequential feeding of information will help your brain learn how to function again.
  • Pay attention to the basics – sleeping, nutrition, exercise. They’re important.
  • And finally, be patient. You can’t force this.

 

You’re not broken.

You’re human.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Clamor For Your Own Attention

It begins while the morning coffee is brewing.

I unplug my phone from its nightly charge and curl up on the couch with a big glass of water to check the emails that came in over the night. And every morning, amongst the ads telling me that Banana Republic is once again having a one day sale! and the funny or inspirational emails forwarded by my mom, there are emails that demand my attention. Sometimes I respond right then (I apologize if you have ever received one of those pre-coffee, pre-dawn messages from me) and other times I make a note to respond later.

It continues when I enter the school building.

I unlock and plug in my laptop, opening up Outlook as soon as I’ve entered my password. Inevitably, there are emails from parents needing information, students needing assistance and administrators needing paperwork. And then, all too soon, the bell rings and I’m swarmed by the commotion of teenagers all fighting to be seen and heard and attended to. This one needs a band-aid, that one needs a pencil and they all need help with their math.

It follows me home.

As soon as I pull into the driveway, I see Tiger’s face at the dining room window peering down at me. I can hear his excited dance on the hardwoods above my head as I gather my belongings out of my car and begin the nightly shedding of the teacher skin by removing my high heels. Once I open the door to the house, I am immediately greeted with 90 pounds of insistent pit bull demanding hugs and kisses. On most days, this is soon followed with the racket of an old cat asking for her turn. The four-legged also experience sibling jealousy, apparently.

Now, you may not check your emails before your morning coffee. You may not work as a teacher surrounded by teenagers. And you may not come home to the attentions of a pit bull and an aging feline.

But I bet you still relate to the above.

Because for all of us, at every turn, someone or something is clamoring for our attention.

Our phones vibrate with incoming messages. Our car flashes a reminder about needing an oil change. Our families ask for attention and the young ones often need it right now! Our work no longer ends when we close the office door; it follows us home.

It’s all too easy to fill a day leap frogging from one need to another, considering everyone else’s demands yet ignoring our own. Feeling frazzled and depleted. Pulled too many directions.

It’s time to make your needs heard.

Clamor for your own attention.

Set a reminder to go on your daily walk. Schedule time each day to unplug from your devices. Close your door and breathe, even if it’s just for a minute while the kids are busy. Post reminders to stop, look and listen to your own needs.

The busier we are, the more structured and intentional we have to be about taking care of ourselves.

So when you’re making that to-do list, make sure that you put yourself on it too.