URSABLOG: Fever Pitch
People ask me sometimes “How do you do it? Always running around, travelling, teaching, working. When do you sleep?” I usually laugh this off; surely this is what everyone does? I read articles about high powered CEOs who sleep four hours a night and are in the gym at 5am, pumping themselves up for the day ahead. Or academics with so many different interests and responsibilities, but still have time to knock out a book once a year. Or politicians who cannot survive unless they are on the move all the time. Or writers who diligently churn out page after page, book after book. Surely this is how life is lived? All these are people I admire, respect, and yes, want to imitate. If they can do it why can’t I? And so I keep going.
But Thursday morning my brain and body called a halt. I could not move, I could not get up from my bed. I had a fever, but I suspect that this was the symptom and not the cause. All calls remained unanswered; I drifted in and out of consciousness, angry with myself that I could not move, angry that I couldn’t function. And so Thursday came and went.
Friday arrived, and I felt a little better, but still weak and still dead tired, sleeping most of the morning, eating a bowl of pasta at lunch, and then asleep again. In the late afternoon as the pressure of work became too much to ignore I rose, logged in and via a mixture of SKYPE and emails managed to fight some urgent fires until the evening. Then I slumped again.
As I lay in bed waiting for sleep to come I started going over in my head all the things I did, and wondered indeed, how did I manage? I saw a tendency in myself to run at things 200 km per hour, which works until, well, it doesn’t and the wheels start coming loose and falling off. And I asked myself the question “Is there any change I can make in my life to make it more efficient and sustainable?”
All I do is very important to me. My work feeds my educational interests and vice versa; it’s a positive feedback loop. I enjoy good food, wine and company, not necessarily in that order, and not necessarily at the same time. My family and friends mean a great deal to me. I am reluctant to invest any less time in any of these, but there is no more time available either. Something has to give.
But then I thought:
“Hold on: What about cycling? That used to be important to you. What happened there?”
“Well,” I answered myself, “my bicycle was stolen, then I cracked a vertebrae getting the decorations down, so I had to let it go. But I really should do something about it. Maybe instead of buying a new laptop, I should have bought a new bike instead?”
“Yes”, I replied, “but I needed the laptop to travel, and that was more important at the time.”
“You see” I pointed out “You can make choices.”
But having pointed this out to myself I found myself thinking that I really should get back on the bike, after all summer is coming, and I don’t go to the gym, and I need to really get some exercise.
It never stops.
But I did stop that particular internal, infernal dialogue to step back a bit and look at what I’m actually achieving. By running around it seems a lot of what I am producing is energy, and whilst that may be a useful driving force, if it doesn’t drive anything meaningful then it is not a particularly efficient use of my time. So I should plan, prioritise and maybe make some difficult decisions about my lifestyle. But it turns out that difficult decisions are not so easy to make. I am great at giving advice to others, but can I get myself to listen to, and then act on, what I should really do?
None of this was helping me sleep so I got up again and sat on the sofa reading the messages on my mobile. Illness had made me hide in my small “angry with myself for getting ill” space, but this space was being penetrated by messages of concern and love from friends who were worried about me, wondering why I was not at work and why I had missed a lesson. I was both touched and grateful. Then I was able to sleep.
This morning I woke up, fresh from a good night’s sleep and full of the life that a swift recovery brings. The weather was beautiful, and as I went outside for the first time after two days I smiled as I saw other people enjoying the warm hazy sun, carrying on with their lives, shopping, chatting, having coffee. Real life, ordinary life.
I’m not really sure why I’m telling you all this, except perhaps as a longwinded apology for not sending a blog out yesterday. But maybe by writing and sharing this I am forcing myself to face up to a few uncomfortable facts about myself. After all when you get a wake up call, you should really wake up.
Maybe I have been a broker too long, and I just can’t say no. But then I think of my mother, who also can’t say no, and at 77 has such an active life I am never sure where exactly she is. Example:
“Where are you?” I ask after reaching her on her mobile after three days of trying.
“I’m in Basle” she cooly replies.
“In Basle? Switzerland? What are you doing there?”
“Well a friend asked me, and there were some cheap tickets…”
Don’t get me wrong, I’m very happy she is having a full independent life, but maybe it is something in the genes. And maybe it is not such a bad thing after all.
But I think the mistake I have made is that in reality I really don’t want to be a high-powered CEO: I’m not enough of a sociopath to think that my success in business is all that counts. Neither is an academic life really for me: the politics of the average University department is enough to make me spontaneously combust with frustration, and anyway I’m not that bright. Politicians are always on the move because it’s harder to hit a moving target. I would dearly love to be writer, but could I have the tenacity and fortitude to keep writing in the face of constant criticism and self-doubt? Probably not, and anyway in the meantime I have to make a living, making sure that Chryssa, my cat, is kept in the style that she has become accustomed to.
I wrote at the end of last year about the futility of New Year resolutions that don’t last beyond February. I therefore resolved instead to change and improve the environment around me rather than trying to change myself. I have had some success in this, but I forgot one thing: I can choose how and when I do things.
My short illness has reminded me that I can’t do everything. We all get lost from time to time, and confuse our priorities when faced with the conflicting challenges of daily life. But I am very lucky: I have friends, family and colleagues who care about me, and a life in shipping that inspires and invigorates me. I am, if I am to be honest about it, quite good at it too. Rather than wait for my brain and body to shut it down for me, I should simply step back from time to time and enjoy the view. That should be enough. For now at least.
Simon Ward
www.ursashipbrokers.com