Comfort in the finite.

Recently I noticed a pattern in my thinking that contributes to my stress and anxiety. Since I've noticed this way of thinking in one area of my life, I've begun to notice how pervasive it is. It's toxic, it makes me crazy... but now I see it, and I can talk myself out of it.

It's so simple it sounds silly, but I have found that it is incredibly useful to remind myself about how finite the stuff of life typically is.

This project I'm working on? I'm analyzing a mountain of qualitative data. What we call in the business a sh*t ton. (Yep, that's what the pros call it.) It feels massive, it feels overwhelming, it's everywhere, it's never going to end... (my heart rate is increasing!)

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No. It isn't! It's blissfully finite. There are only so many journals to read through. Only so many quotes to gather. Only so many data points. They have an end. It's only so many days until the project is wrapped up. It does not stretch into infinity. I do not have to panic.

I'll give you a home example... I'm working on organizing our office supplies. Right now you can find a stash of them in many corners of our house. They feel like they are everywhere. There that thinking is again. But nope, they're not everywhere. They're finite. I could pack them all into a couple of large storage tubs and stick them in the garage if I wanted to. Completely corralled. Wrangled. Maybe not the solution I'm looking for, but... they have an end. 

I don't have the mental or emotional capacity to deal with the infinite. No human does! So when the tasks feel infinite, when the workload seems to stretch into eternity, when the laundry appears to flow toward the horizon, I feel completely maxed out.

The good news is, I don't have to be overwhelmed by the seemingly infinite stuff of life. The last t-shirt gets folded, the last email on that project gets sent. All things end, all things pass. Remembering this lately makes me feel less hopeless and less helpless.