It may be unsurprising that I have even more to say about lists and their relationship with my perceived ability to be “productive”. When tasks and to-dos are written out, they glare back at me when I haven’t crossed them off. Sheepishly I’ll delete each one if I haven’t done it, or more likely copy and paste moving to the next day. And then the next, hoping tomorrow will be the one. Sometimes I do just give up completely and remove a certain task, feeling like a failure in the process.
Up until maybe 2 weeks ago it had been ages since I last went swimming. Something I hate to admit because I’d fallen so in love with it over the last year. When I was made redundant from my job, I had much more time on my hands and easily managed to go 3 times a week. Something that helped keep me sane. I’d missed it. It’s not like I’d forgotten, there it was written down on certain days - my plan to go swimming. As I’ve mentioned already, my lists are also timed. So each of my activities are not only written down, but I expect myself to meet the strict schedule I’ve put in place. Swimming definitely doesn’t like it when I do that. Rationally, I know it makes sense to plan swimming around work, going at lunch time or the end of the day. But giving myself the choice and the freedom, not just with swimming but everything I want to achieve in the day, was more important than I realised. Not that I’d really given much thought to it at all.
I like my sleep. I am not a morning person. I cannot, will not be one of those people who can carpe diem at 5am. My energy tends to peak at various points throughout the day - midmorning, midday and early evening. I’m more aware now that it’s at these times I am able to get more done. Yet I continue to work against myself. Mornings are so heavy-loaded that it’s impossible to get everything done in the time I have from my final snoozed alarm and starting work. WHY am I doing this to myself?
Once I’ve fallen off the wagon so to speak, I can so easily talk myself out of getting back on. This is what happened with swimming. As the gap from when I’d last been continued to widen, I almost felt embarrassed to attempt putting it back into my list as something to do. Treating swimming like an accomplishment took the magic out of it. It’s not as if I’ve been training for Paris 2024. But the thought of not being as good as I had been before was holding me back.
Perhaps this is why I am more acutely aware of my list making and how bound I feel by it, and to be productive in general. It becomes a linear trajectory, needing to continuously approve. A thin line between success and failure, making it much harder to pick myself up again because I lack showing myself kindness and encouragement.
Now that I live right near the lido and the sun has finally shown its face, I’ve fought through my own resistance and swimming has resumed. Swimming is a haven, a mindfulness practice that rips me apart from the rest of the world for a little bit. Time to slow down and sit (breaststroke) in some solitude with my thoughts.
Last month, writer and memoirist Deborah Levy was interviewed about writing influences for The Guardian in an article aptly titled “writing and swimming help each other.” It’s spot on. For inspiration and new ideas to find you, you need time for meandering and mind wandering. Swimming allows for exactly that. So whilst I can’t part with my lists, I’m trying to find ways to dilute the power they have, so that things I enjoy are allowed to ebb and flow without being so rigorously dictated.