What to Do When You Feel Like You're Drowning

I am choosing this topic because, quite honestly, I feel like I'm drowning a little bit right now.

Not literally.

But you know that feeling where there are so many things happening at once that your brain doesn't even know where to start? Everything feels urgent. Everything feels important. And somehow, even the smallest inconvenience feels like a personal attack?

Yeah.

That kind of drowning.

I'm currently in what I lovingly refer to as my busy season at work.

We just finished the Fourth of July parade and we're moving into our Team Member Picnic. We're starting to think about holiday shopping advances. There's a holiday raffle to organize, a cookie-and-hot-chocolate get-together, and somewhere in the middle of all of that, I'm also responsible for decorating for Christmas at work.

Because planning for Christmas in my world starts in September.

And then, when I leave work, there's still a whole other life waiting for me at home.

There is dinner and laundry and dishes and school and a child who needs her mom and a house that would really appreciate some attention. And, of course, I would also like to keep a little bit of the Christmas spirit alive at home.

Somewhere in the middle of all of this, my vertigo decided to make a comeback.

So last night was a pretty good example of what happens when I reach the end of my rope.

I was burnt out.

And when I'm burnt out, I don't make good decisions. I don't think clearly. I get overwhelmed easily. Everything feels bigger than it actually is.

And, if I'm being completely honest, I start taking things personally that absolutely do not need to be taken personally.

So I've learned that when I feel like I'm drowning, I have to stop trying to swim harder.

I have to get my head above the water first.

Step One: Walk Away

The first thing I personally need to do is walk away.

Sometimes that means physically walking away from whatever I'm doing. Sometimes it means putting down the phone. Sometimes it means stepping outside. Sometimes it just means sitting somewhere for a few minutes and not accomplishing anything.

I need space.

Because when I'm overwhelmed, I don't have the mental clarity to solve the problem.

I'm reacting to it.

And there is a big difference.

Walking away gives me a little distance between what is actually happening and how it feels in my brain right now.

I can come back to something much more calmly after I've given myself a chance to breathe.

Walking away isn't quitting.

Sometimes it's the thing that allows me to come back and actually function.

Step Two: Make the Giant, Ugly List

Once I've cleared my head a little, I make a list.

And I mean a massive list.

Not a cute little bullet-pointed list with matching checkboxes.

I'm talking scribbles.

Everything that's taking up space in my brain goes on the paper.

Things I need to do at work.

Things I need to do at home.

Things I need to remember.

Things I've been putting off.

Things I don't even know when I'm going to have time to do.

If it's bouncing around in my head, it goes on the list.

Because sometimes the overwhelming part isn't actually doing all of those things.

It's trying to remember all of those things at the same time.

Once they're on paper, I can start sorting them.

What actually needs to happen first?

What has a deadline?

What is going to create a bigger problem if I don't do it?

And sometimes something that isn't technically the highest priority needs to move up the list because I can't accomplish something else until it's done.

For example, if I'm trying to get housework done on a weekend and I need to make lunch, but there are dirty dishes taking up the space where I need to prepare food, I'm probably going to load the dishwasher first.

Is doing the dishes the most important thing on my list?

No.

But our dishwasher is portable, so while it's running it's going to be sitting in my way.

If I wait until I need to prepare lunch to deal with the dishes, I've created a roadblock for myself.

So I do what needs to happen before what I actually want to do.

Sometimes that's what prioritizing really looks like.

Not doing the most important thing first.

Doing the thing that allows the next important thing to happen.

Step Three: Make the Work Smaller

When the list is still enormous, I stop looking at the entire thing.

Because sometimes the list itself can become overwhelming.

Instead, I break things into bite-sized pieces.

My favorite number is 20 minutes.

I'll set a timer for 20 minutes and tell myself:

You only have to do this for 20 minutes.

When the timer goes off, I can stop.

Sometimes I do stop.

And that's okay.

But sometimes something funny happens.

I get into a rhythm.

The thing I was dreading doesn't feel quite as awful anymore, and I don't want to stop.

If that's the case, I'll set another 20-minute timer.

I'll keep going in those little increments until I reach about an hour.

Then I make myself take a break.

Not a "scroll Instagram while mentally making a grocery list" break.

A real break.

About 15 minutes.

I drink some water. I watch part of a show. I sit down. I let my brain be absolute jello for a little while.

Then I can decide what comes next.

The timer isn't there to force me to be productive.

It's there to make a giant task feel small enough to start.

Step Four: Give Your Brain Something Pleasant

This one might sound silly, but I really like lighting a candle when I'm working through a mountain of things.

There's something about having a nice smell in the background while I'm cleaning, organizing, or working that makes the whole experience feel a little less miserable.

I'll be going about my business and eventually I'll notice the candle.

And there's this tiny moment of:

Oh. That smells really good.

It sounds insignificant.

But when you're overwhelmed, sometimes insignificant things are exactly what you need.

It gives my brain a little sensory reset without requiring me to completely stop what I'm doing.

And honestly, sometimes getting through a hard evening is less about making everything enjoyable and more about making it 5% nicer.

A candle.

A favorite drink.

A comfortable sweatshirt.

Music.

A show playing in the background.

Whatever makes the task feel a little less like punishment.

Step Five: Lower the Bar

I think this one is probably the hardest for me.

When I'm overwhelmed, I still want to perform like I'm not overwhelmed.

I want to be the person who handles everything.

The house should be clean.

The work should be done.

Dinner should happen.

My kid should have everything she needs.

I should be pleasant.

I should be organized.

I should somehow still have enough energy left over to enjoy my life.

But sometimes I don't.

Sometimes the goal isn't to have an exceptionally productive day.

Sometimes the goal is simply to get through the day without making tomorrow harder.

Maybe dinner is something easy.

Maybe the laundry gets moved but not folded.

Maybe the house is clean enough instead of actually clean.

Maybe I don't answer every message immediately.

Maybe something gets pushed to tomorrow.

There is a difference between letting everything fall apart and deciding that today, good enough is good enough.

When you're drowning, you don't need to decorate the lifeboat.

You just need to get in it.

Step Six: Ask Yourself What Actually Has to Happen

This is probably the question I need to ask myself more often:

What actually has to happen today?

Not:

What would be nice to accomplish?

What have I been meaning to do?

What would make me feel more caught up?

What would the imaginary, perfectly organized version of me do?

What actually has to happen?

Sometimes the answer is surprisingly short.

And once I know what truly needs to happen, everything else can become a "later" problem.

I don't have to solve next Tuesday tonight.

I don't have to organize my entire life because I'm having a hard evening.

I just need to figure out what is directly in front of me.

You Don't Have to Fix Everything Tonight

I think this is something I've had to learn over and over again.

When I feel like I'm drowning, my instinct is to try to fix everything.

I'll make a plan.

Then I'll make another plan.

Then I'll convince myself that if I can just get everything organized, I'll finally feel better.

But sometimes the organization isn't the first step.

Sometimes the first step is sitting down.

Breathing.

Walking away.

Getting some distance.

Writing down the 47 things screaming inside my head.

Then choosing one.

Just one.

Because you don't have to finish everything to stop drowning.

You just need something to stand on.

And maybe that's a 20-minute timer.

Maybe it's a dishwasher full of dirty dishes.

Maybe it's a candle.

Maybe it's asking someone for help.

Maybe it's deciding that tonight's dinner is going to be whatever requires the least amount of effort.

Maybe it's going to bed instead of finishing the laundry.

And maybe tomorrow you'll have a little more capacity.

I'm learning that being overwhelmed doesn't mean I'm failing.

Sometimes it just means I'm carrying more than I can comfortably carry right now.

And when that happens, I don't need to become a better version of myself.

I need to give myself somewhere to put some of the weight.

Even if that means putting it down for 15 minutes and letting my brain turn into jello.

I'll pick it back up when I'm ready.