Everyday tasks (#1338)

Topics/tags: Autobiographical, somewhat short

These days, I notice that I’m finding it hard to complete everyday tasks. What kind of tasks? All sorts. More than a month ago, I scheduled a surgery for early March; I only managed to make the pre-anaesthesia appointment two days ago. I still haven’t scheduled the pre-op visit with my family physician. (I tried, but I forgot that they close early on Fridays and earlier than I expected on Thursdays.) I needed to return a package; it’s been sitting on my desk for three weeks. I haven’t gone through the mail or balanced the checkbook. I still haven’t given the Noyce custodial staff their annual holiday gifts. I even let things sit on the floor that I should pick up. I also haven’t turned in my medical reimbursements for last year. I think I still have a week or more for those. At least I hope I do. And our poor plants; it takes until they droop before I remember to water them, even though it’s on my list to water them each Friday.

At first, I was going to attribute it all to grief. It’s hard for me to get things done these days, particularly since I often feel like I’m only working at about 30% of my mental capacity. If I’m struggling to do things, it’s not surprising that I’m not getting things done. And if I’m doing things more slowly, it’s natural that I’m getting fewer things done. Fortunately, most bills are on autopay.

If I’m honest with myself, there’s more to it than grief and its effects. Or perhaps less. I’ve always had trouble completing everyday tasks. It’s probably something I should discuss with a therapist. Sometimes it’s just forgetfulness. For example, for the past three weeks, I’ve gone to bed each night saying, I should bring the phone number for my anaesthesia appointment to work so I can call during the day. However, it’s not until I’m at work, setting up class, that I remember. I suppose I could be smart enough to ask Eldest to remind me. There are even times when he’s still at home, so I could call or text him. Those ideas never occur to me at the right time.

Sometimes I don’t get things done because of anxiety. I envision all the things that can go wrong when I do something. Maybe they’ll yell at me when I call for the appointment because I’ve taken so long to call. (No, I don’t actually believe that, but I still feel shame at taking so long, and it’s a similar feeling.) They’re senseless fears, but they’re there.

Maybe grief just makes all of that worse. Anxiety now includes they might say something about Michelle, and I’ll cry. Grief also enhances forgetfulness [1].

However, it’s also that I don’t have Michelle here. She was great at saying Have you done X yet? She also knew me well enough that she’d often give up and just do the thing herself. Ah, the wonders of having someone who knows you too well [2].

Moving forward? Who knows. I’ll just need to remember to be gentle with myself; it’s okay to fail at everyday things. In most cases, the world won’t end. Or perhaps it has already.

Postscript: We you hoping for a rant? I know I promised some. Don’t worry; they’ll appear soon. I drafted this a few days ago, and my time is limited, so that’s what you get today.

Postscript: Looking at my list of failed-to-complete tasks for the weekend, it may also be that there’s just too many things to do on my plate. I suppose that’s nothing new.

[1] Is enhances forgetfulness the right phrasing? Perhaps I should just say (write) affects memory.

[2] The Sondheim quote is unintentional.

Version 1.0 of 2025-02-23.