Ever take on a new project where you had to learn something new? Have you done what I did recently and taken what started out to be a healthy-sized task and made it mentally and psychologically insurmountable? Good gravy!
I know better than this! I coach clients, friends, and my boys to “forge through” these tough spots by chipping away at the mountainous mental monster’s base after first stepping back and assessing the size of the climb. But still, I let myself avoid the challenge—day after confidence-withering day—until my molehill sized problem became a mountain the size of Everest (or maybe something larger—does the moon have gigantic-er mountains than Earth does?).
This particular project involved me learning a new photography skill that when distilled was pretty much only about figuring out a few different camera settings. But I learned this news late into the bigger project deadline, and then the molehill started its growth bit by bit and day by day, until I had myself atop a big pile of rocks! Like the Silly Sand toy (if you’re old enough to remember) from the 60s that builds-up teeny-tiny glop, by teeny-tiny glop, my molehill grew to a mole-mountain range.
You see, I have this fabulous personality flaw…er, characteristic: I can’t stand doing anything twice! By the time I learned of what I had to do, photographically, I had almost completed the said jewelry project at hand, and thus the kiss-of-death combination of not liking to repeat actions (remaking the piece to photograph it’s instructions in steps) and being challenged with something (mechanically) new to learn, ended up being a lethal combination!
Now, I know I’m being a bit dramatic, but you know what the mind can do when left to dwell in a loop of uncertainty. So, here’s what I suggest you do—and I do—to avoid conjuring even that first new rock to lop on top the heap next time we find ourselves staring at a little bump in the road:
- Nip It in the Molehill!—Obviously, the best thing to do when we recognize a molehill (trust your feelings and actions here . . . is your gut in a knot?, is your avoidance showing by cleaning the gunky microwave when you should be “nipping?”) is to get that molehill shovel out of the garage and make one, assertively-sized thrust, throwing that pile high over your shoulder. BUT, things happen and we sometimes need to experience something else in this infinite world of time and space, so then we’ll move onto our number two.
- Assess the Summit—Another obvious realization is that with each day our molehill is left to grow, the more dirt and rock we have to chip away later. So, the sooner we physically take action, the better. But first, I try to get my head around what has gotten me (mentally) into this situation in the first place. Assess the problem. What’s the height, weight, mass, shape, and composition—even smell and taste—of our molehill? What’s at the base of our challenge here? What resistance (inner rocks) have we built into the job of eliminating this barricade? Including—in some instances—simply deciding not to climb at all. Maybe simply walking around or tunneling through is in order.
(My self-assessment was that I have a bit of defiance to repeating effort. Any effort. I want to progress forward, always, swiftly and with no stagnation [Ha! You see where that got me!]. And, several other deadlines, a vacation, a delayed holiday, and computer glitches also served as heaping rocks, but if I’m honest with myself, I could have worked around and through those diversions.) - Assume Tackle Position!—Psych up and put your head down! Make the first physical indication that you are now ready to hoist your first rope to the top of the summit.
(For me, this meant hand-diagramming the progress I made thus far, then physically cutting out the pieces and plotting a planogram of sorts. [REALLY! I’m not kidding! Do you now get the picture of the precipitous elevation I had achieved?].) - Forge Through!—Pick up whichever tool you can reach with whatever strength you have to muster and begin to eliminate this now-monster! Chip away with a bulldozer, a battering ram, a jack hammer, an axe, hatchet, butter knife, or your fingers if you have to. Just physically start the process. You’ll regain your confidence bit by bit. Then, work in whatever shift lengths you can maintain (you’ll most likely see that once you start, you’ll have more stamina than you thought you would), and repeat the shifts and the chipping until you reach bedrock!
(After arming myself with the picto-map, I promised me that I only had to get through shooting the first photo. Then, I could stop for a while if I chose. But when I saw how easy that was, I psyched up for the next two and shot those, gaining the much-needed confidence I needed to juice-me-up for the next couple shots in the series. Then, before I knew it—and with an embarrassingly little amount of time…maybe three hours tops—I was done. And phew! I had chipped away at that mountain and brought it down to level once again, (Note: the mountain was really still a mole-hole in reality. My mind was the only culprit to this mountain-making. Oh! To be on the other side of that!) - Clean up your site—Most likely by the time you’ve spent being trapped by your mountain, you’ve affected a few, if not several, peers, family, friends and/or clients. Make your apologies directly and honestly.
(I’ll start with Barb, Linda, and Jill, and work my way through. I have some ‘splainin’ to do (Lucy), and I’m hopin’ that I haven’t cut off my nose to spite my face.)
We’ll see if the height I let this monstrous mountain reach isn’t inversely related to the depth of the hot water in which I may now be swimming. And if it has, I’ll start right from the beginning of that molehill again, wiser and stronger. ‘Cause using a teaspoon as my preferred digging tool really built-up my biceps! Oy!
So learn from me—and my angst-filled foible—and assess, chip away, and forge through!
PS The topic of PerfectionFrozenism promised at the end of my March 28 blog has been postponed—perhaps, ‘til my next blog post!
