Concentration is elusive.
The ability to concentrate, that is.
I sit here with my brain full of fuzz. Or maybe... lead. My head is heavy on my neck.
My legs feel antsy. I want to get up and move around. Walk. Run. Bike. Do anything that doesn't involve sitting in front of the computer.
And yet, I want to sleep. Snuggle back in my bed and enjoy the nothingness that is sleep. If only my sleep was dreamless - which it's not these days at least.
And yet, I must (and I mean MUST) concentrate. It has to happen. Words must be written in an intelligent and clear fashion. Concepts must be studied. They must be committed to memory.
I am wasting time.
Then I wonder, how did I do this before? How did I learn and study and achieve? Was I better at concentration? I suspect the answer is no. I suspect, that in fact, I just had more time.
Time when I wasn't making supper and cleaning the house. Packing lunches and grocery shopping. Doing laundry for five people, rather than one. Encouraging children and mediating meltdowns. Lots and lots and lots of meltdowns. Going to meeting after meeting and appointment after appointment. Time to stay up all night and then sleep-in the next day to make up for it. Time to have fun with my friends who were just down the hall.
How simple life was back then... when procrastination didn't seem to have such dire consequences and I always got things done on time because I could put myself first. And I could put my learning first - except that I'm pretty sure my social life competed successfully with it.
Now I tell myself that my head feels a little lighter. And I convince myself that the front of my brain needs its exercise as well as my legs. I take a deep breathe and I find that speck of light in my deep, dark brain that allows me to concentrate. To think in full paragraphs. To explain the information I've interacted with for days now. I put all my other thoughts aside. I forget about SMS and our upcoming garage sale and the appointment I have to take Nate to this afternoon and I concentrate.