Over the past few years there’s been an abundance of stressful events in my life. Whether it’s our car getting totaled while parked in front of our house, my sister’s cancer, ongoing issues with my father, Big Papa’s mother moving to an Alzheimer’s-care unit, or the big Kahuna of our adoption going south, we’ve all-too-frequently found ourselves neck deep in all sorts of troubles.
So when someone whose counsel I respect, suggested I start an intentional Sh*t List, I was intrigued. The idea is that you create a list and allow yourself limited access on a daily basis at regularly scheduled times. For example, I might tell myself: at 3:00 every day I will sit down for ten minutes and list all the unpleasant stuff I’ve dealt with so far in that given day. You can do it several times a day but you need to keep a lid on the time you spend writing it down and you also need to restrict the majority of your unloading to the list (e.g. less whining).
This could have come in very handy just a couple weeks ago when I found myself faced with all sorts of shenanigans while trying to get our car fixed by the dealer. I took the car in for an oil change. My trusted mechanic (not the dealer) noticed a leak. He suggested I take my car to the dealer because it’s still under warranty and he thought it was going to be an expensive (read: over $1,000 clams) fix.
The dealer didn’t make appointments, so I took the car in (note the dealer is on the other side of the lake, a 20 minute drive without traffic and up to an hour during rush-hour traffic). Then I waited nearly 2-1/2 hours for them to assess the problem. They said whoever changed the oil must not have put the cap back in correctly. That will be $26, thank-you-very-much.
I was livid and drove back to my mechanic thinking that he’d either had a really off day or needed to hire a new guy who knew how to change oil. Instead, he calmly said the dealer just suckered me out of $26 and 2-1/2 hours of my precious time, but if I brought the car back to him another day, he’d put it up on the rack, take a picture of the leak, and print out a schematic that I could take back to the dealer (my mechanic rocks!).
That’s what I did and then I had to leave the car with the dealer for nearly five days (note the dealer does not offer a loaner car) and bus or hoof it around Seattle. At the end of the week, the car was home and the problem turned out to be exactly what my mechanic suggested in the first place.
I was angry and couldn’t let it go. The conversations with the dealer, the frustration, the craziness of it all played over and over in my brain like an old record with a scratch on it. During the week our car was in the shop, I’d call Big Papa in the middle of the day and unload and then, at the end of his work day, I’d unload some more. A couple times I even threw in a few bonus sob stories just because I was on a roll. Needless to say, I wish I’d had the list that week.
The idea is brilliant. First of all, I’m a list maker. There’s something about writing stuff down (and checking it off) that gives my brain a little endorphin buzz. Second, just imagining getting all of that bad juju out of my immediate consciousness and down onto paper is, quite frankly, cathartic. And (I hope), if I dump it on the written page, then possibly I’ll dump less of it on my dear, patient, and supportive (but sometimes tired, exasperated, and done-with-it) husband.
I started my list and so far it appears to be working, the weight of the world that I’d been carrying feels lighter. That said, it doesn’t solve problems and I’m sure there will still be plenty of times when nothing substitutes for a good hug, a warm shoulder, or the occasional box of Kleenex.
This week, there weren’t a lot of heavy hitters in the catastrophe department, and I’m thankful for that. But I did keep this new habit going by purging a few events from my past (no lack for content there). And while I’d love to imagine a future where car dealerships are honest and people you love never get cancer or dementia, I know that’s pretty unrealistic. Stuff happens…to everyone (though, admittedly, to some of us more than others). Still, I’m hoping my Sh*t List will help lighten the load.
Lady Sherpa says
I love the idea of a sh*t list. I’ll be able to get all those annoying stresses that bug me out in the open, while not being a negative nancy to others. Well, I should say not being a negative nancy as much…Thanks Beth!
shelley pritchett says
The perfect year for such a list…this has been a really, really rough one for everyone i know, and everyone I casually encounter (or hear about) from the President down to my sole surviving cat…
Beth Shepherd says
My sole surviving cat has had a few visits to the vet too and I’ve told her she simply must hang in there!
Lori Johnson says
Your sh*t list sounds like it would be excellent therapy for you. Just talking about it makes it easier. Most of these things are out of your hands.
One Day At a Time.
LJ
MCatherine says
I employed a similar tactic when upset over a head/neck cancer diagnosis…not just because of the ‘C’ diagnosis, but I was a professional singer, so: DOUBLE WHAMMIE!!! Anyway, I set a timer for 10 minutes every day and allowed my self to punch pillows, stand in the shower and scream and lay of the floor and sob before I had to wash my face, put on make-up and go face the world! It’s good you know how to use the sh*t list already, it comes in handy for a lot of things life tends to ‘shove into one’s face!’
MCatherine
Hide A Heart
Beth Shepherd says
MCatherine. I really appreciate your comment. My sister is currently undergoing treatment for brain cancer so I can empathize a bit. Having an outlet like the sh*t list or the rock ’em sock ’em you describe really does help. I agree about the timer and “allowing” yourself the the time and space to get it out. Life does indeed throw a lot our way, some more than others.