(25) What I learned about ‘busyness’

Busyness is a term I invented (I think!) about a certain state of activity that you can get yourself into when the pressure’s on.

I remember first noticing it some ten or so years back when I needed to move into temporary accommodation very suddenly. I was in a housing co-operative at the time and we were being taken over by a housing association which meant me and my housemate had to move out of the house for it to be re-furbished. We knew it was going to happen at some point, but we were not sure when the call would come so were not able to make any concrete plans.

Anyway the call came the first week in December, to vacate the property by the end of the second week of December! Yeah right, we said, as if they were going to work on it over Christmas! Anyway we had to go and, more to the point, we had to find somewhere to move into in a week.

Looking back, this is when I first noticed the busyness machine kicking in.

We visited every rental agency in the area. We followed up every suitable looking letting ad in the local paper. We asked friends and colleagues. We even used our contacts in the housing association to see if there were any vacant properties we could use. Every idea we turned up led to a blank. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

But time was ticking on and soon we had only four days until we had to be out. My housemate was beginning to say that we’d have to stay and the housing association would have to delay their plans, but I was determined to move as the sooner we were out, the sooner the re-furb would start. I re-doubled my efforts and started phoning agents every day, I walked the streets looking for ‘to let’ signs, I began to look at areas that were further and further away. We were open to renting houses, flats, more bedrooms, fewer bedrooms, nowhere near shops, trains or buses, anything and everything was up for consideration. I hoped something, somewhere would turn up for us.

Then it did. The very first agent we had been in touch with called out of the blue two days before we were meant to be moving and mentioned a house they managed for a client that was suddenly available. To say we saw it, signed the contract, paid the deposit and got the keys in one day is not an exaggeration. The next day it was four degrees below zero and we spent thirteen hours packing, shipping and unpacking – but I could not have been happier.

Since that episode I have been in tight situations several times: deadlines looming and no sign of relief. But I just get my head down and get on with doing stuff, knowing that something (often as a result of the very first action I took) will pay off. But the busyness keeps my mind from panicking as it makes me feel I am doing all I can to alleviate the situation.

Even now, with many years experience of situations sorting themselves out I cannot just sit there and wait. I still feel I have to doing ‘my part’ and putting the hours of busyness in.

(2) What I Learned About Not Giving In To Panic

 

Some years back I was doing some consulting outside London and talking to a rather harried middle aged woman about her career goals. She mentioned that advancing her career was fine, but she was concerned about the level of responsibility it would bring. She continued by saying that she was a terrible worrier and that she always looked for the worst case scenario in every situation. I asked why this was and she said so she could ‘be prepared’ for the worst. I mentioned that if she was prepared for the worst outcome then why was she worrying? She had no reply to this and thought about it for a long time before answering that her mother was a worrier and that she feels she just picked up her habit.

We worked on the following exercise for when overwhelmed with worry: (1) Identify core reason for worry. (2) Work out everything you can do within your power to solve that worry and put it into place. (3) Stop worrying because everything else is outside your influence. I congratulated myself after this session as I think I did pretty well helping this person into a better strategy for managing herself and it also made me grateful I was not a worrier. A few hours later I had reason to thank the Universe for a big lesson in empathy and understanding . . . 

I was on the train just leaving the station for the long haul to back to London when I realised that I didn’t have two important note books with me. I must have left them somewhere in the offices I had been working in. Panic and fear shot through me. One note book held confidential information about all the employees I had been seeing in my time working for the company. The other was my personal ‘download’ journal that I use to write all my thoughts in. I sat with my head in my hands for a full ten minutes stressing about the situation. Then I remembered my own advice of the afternoon when dealing with worry: (1) Identify (2) Strategy (3) Forget. 

It was at this point I choked out a laugh at my practical demonstration of the paralysing grip of worry. Having decided I needed to get my books found and safely tucked away I ran through my mind the people I could trust in the office to entrust them to. I knew various trustworthy people in the offices, but could I rely on their discresion? Essentially, I knew there was really only one person I could trust such a favour of: Let’s call him my good friend James. I had his mobile number, he was trustworthy; he would do me the favour if I asked. 

Trouble was, I’ve always been fond of James and had things written a few things about him in my download journal. Nothing too fanatical, just observations about how I felt, some things he’d said and comments on scenarios we’d discussed. I was nervous that if I asked James to pick up the books and if he was tempted to read them I might appear a bit nuts on paper. But I had to get back my books, there was simply no other option other than to trust him. 

Having made mobile contact with James it was hard to get him to understand what had happened as reception on the rail line was dire. But, brilliantly, he managed to grasp what I wanted him to do: find the books, tuck them away from prying eyes and send them to me when he had a mo. 

Having set that all up (ie: done everything within my power) I then continued to stress about it until I remembered step (3) forget about it. It took me some deliberate distraction techniques to do it, but I eventually let it go. I had done all I could do and had to leave the rest for the Universe to sort out. By the morning when I received a ‘got them’ text from James, a whole new set of worries had surfaced: What if he read the books? What if had recognised some of the personal notes I’d made about colleagues? What if he misinterpreted my careless observations for fanatical obsession. Aaaarrrggghh!  Again, I had to let it go. Nothing I could do about it now was there? 

It was a tense week or so, but my books did come back and, to this day, my friends are divided as to whether James had read either my work notes or my personal journal. To his credit, James has never let on if he did read anything, nor changed his behaviour towards me in any way. I like to think he has the integrity I bestowed upon him. But I learned my practical worry lesson big time. Importantly, I also learned I am not above exhibiting any of the strange limiting behaviours of some of my clients. 

Many people have heard this story and comment that perhaps I shouldn’t habitually write my thoughts down in notebooks which can be misplaced, read by the wrong people, used against you etc. I say that goes a lot against my nature as I have kept notebooks since I was 16 (be very scared school chums!).  I choose to still commit to paper because I still enjoy the process. The lesson here though is to be able to deal with such tricky situations should they occur, not letting blind panic overwhelm you and otherwise dictate your emotions.