Earning My Keep

I woke up this morning with a general sense of dread about my week ahead. My blue Sailor Tuzu fountain pen, filled with Monteverde Capri Blue ink in hand, I carefully jot down in a handmade journal all the things on my mind for the week ahead. A cup of AeroPress French roast coffee (with a splash of sweet Italian creamer) sits just out of reach until I finish. As soon as the list is done, I grab the still-warm cup and read while I sip. Seeing the list makes my chest tighten.

It’s Monday morning at 6am and I am already behind the 8 Ball.¹ Beginning of a brand new week, and… I’ve already lost the game.

Why do I feel this way?

I have no idea where I got this from. I could blame my parents, but that’s not right. I could say that I don’t want to be judged, but that’s not quite right either. My internal judge does not want any competition is closer to the truth. You see, I judge myself all the time, I’m too lazy, I’m not successful enough, I should lose some weight, I’m forgetful. The list of my own recriminations is endless. As Michael A. Singer wrote in The Untethered Soul, I live with an obnoxious roommate who won’t shut up. And it’s that guy who does not want to be judged for his shortcomings. He can pick on me as much as he wants.

What a prick.

How did I land myself in this position?

And that, honestly, is a bad question. Why? Because it puts my attention on the past. I can’t do anything about the past. The more useful question is, “What can I do now?” or “What can I do differently so I don’t end up here again?” These are future-oriented questions, ones that make me wonder if there is a better way to live.

It may not sound like much to switch from focusing on the past to visualizing your future, but the past is narrowing, because it is finite. When our options collapse, it’s a form of fear. Fear response (like Fight or Flight²) forces us to focus by narrowing our choices. However, a future orientation requires that we explore, and exploration requires openness. Openness demands a more positive mindset.

Which brings me back to, believe it or not, my todo list. As I look at all the lines in my journal, I don’t see tasks, I see people. I don’t have tasks. I work in commitments. People with expectations, I set, are waiting on me to keep my word.

I have put a lot of time lately into thinking about how I approach my working life. What if my “to do list” was not just about “earning my keep”, but rather, an expression of care? They say work is love made visible. What if how I spend my time, energy, and abilities is also how I maintain relationships?

This thought moves me from fear and loathing in task management (to repurpose a quote from Hunter S. Thompson), toward a more curious posture. What if a task is less about justifying my self-worth and more about holding my end of the rope? The moment I think that way, I feel the pressure on my chest relax. Not completely, but noticeably.

Taking my pen, I grab a fresh sheet of paper, and start to copy my tasks from my journal onto the pristine page. But this time, I leave a little space. Beneath each “task” I write a name, a reminder of who is counting on me. I finish copying my list, not with dread, but with some pride. I’m needed, wanted, and I can contribute.

I’m ready to start my week. If only there was a better way to keep track of my commitments.