Obsessive focus on something you can't change leads to derangement
But it sure is easier than dealing with yourself
I refuse to listen to one more anti-Trump rant.
It has often been observed in moderate to conservative circles that a certain age liberals seem to bring up Trump in any conversation, no matter how obviously unrelated.
This happened to me yesterday. I was talking with someone I love very much about my frustrations with the behavior of the kids I teach, and she said, “Look who their role model is,” and went off on a rant against Trump.
I assure you, Trump is not the role model for one single kid in the all-black school in a deep blue city where I teach. Not one. Find me one and I will buy that kid lunch.
It does not surprise me though. Even when I was a liberal, watching MSNBC because I was living with my mom and it was on all the time, I thought there was something off about their obsessive focus on Trump the person, not just the policies. Guaranteed to whip people into a rage-filled frenzy, but unlikely to produce rational action.
Like Trump, hate Trump, or in between, it is not rational to spend day and night hating him with all your emotional energy, even if you are planning a run for President yourself. For an average person who has no power in politics beyond the power of their vote and a campaign contribution or volunteering, it’s truly irrational to be consumed by hatred of Trump to the point where it comes up all the time, in every conversation.
As I thought about it, I realized that my focus on wanting to help the kids improve everything from their behavior to their ability to read and write had become out of proportion to what I can actually do. When I focus on it too much, I become sad that I didn’t get the job, angry at the ways the kids aren’t achieving what I think they should, and less able to help than I would be if I contemplated hot guys and flowers all day.
Bring to mind an eighth grade girl. She has a crush on a boy. She talks about him constantly. She thinks about him night and day. She goes to school only to catch a quick glimpse of him in the hallway. If he says good morning to her and can remember her name, she passes notes to ten friends within fifteen minutes (I’m talking of the eighties when I was in eighth grade. I will not dignify texting by mentioning what eighth graders do now.) Her focus on whoever the guy is is wildly out of proportion to any effect, positive or negative, he might have on her life. Yet to her, he is Jesus Christ, Anakin Skywalker, and Captain Von Trapp in a cute sweatshirt. (And jeans. Did she mention how cute he is in jeans? Like seriously, never did a boy look so good in jeans. I mean, not since last month’s guy, whose name we can’t quite recall…)
“What the hell?” her exasperated parent, or any sane person, might say. “Get a grip.”
Or, as my good friend who is wise and a mutual friend of many of my readers once said, “Girl, you need to chill with your bad self.”
Note: I was approximately 47 when she said this. I am good with eighth graders because I have never quite left the eighth grade.
The thing about eighth grade girls is that they are supposed to be deranged. It’s a developmental process that has fueled the evolution of our species. It’s neurological, biological, fun and annoying all at once.
Adults become adults in part by growing beyond this sort of thing. They develop the ability to put things in their proper place. Some things are very important, like family, making a living, or a terrorist attack. Others, not so much.
Especially those things we can do very little about.
The state of the world is important. Cute guys are important. One’s work is important. So is the garden. But when things are beyond our control, excessive focus can destroy our emotional and physical health and make us less able to make a meaningful difference, not more.
The media and our constant plugged in-ness have messed up the wiring of our brains. We are supposed to tune it out, eat a family dinner, pet a cat, change a diaper or whatever it is, and go to bed. We are not supposed to scroll all night, text friends or argue on Facebook or the insta-thingy.
I’ve consciously unplugged myself from social media for the most part lately. I don’t need to get upset about what people I haven’t seen in years write on Facebook. I don’t need to constantly read takes on this or that. I don’t even need to know the news of the day every day - I’m not teaching social studies and unlike many others I keep politics out of my teaching. I actually do not believe the public schools should take sides in elections, especially if the side they take are contrary to their own interests, but I digress…
I find I am better able to handle the constant shocks to my nervous system of kids yelling out the n word fifty or more times a day and fighting or screaming at each other if I do not have conflict that does not involve me in my head. (For y’all white folks, a certain demographic of black people use the n word but without the hard r at the end as a colloquial way of saying “man” or “person.”)
Unplugging has helped me reconnect with my cat, myself, and my nervous system. It’s been under so much stress that it made me sick. I’ve been working anyway but I am much better when I’m not feeling like I’m going to throw up half the time.
Obsessive focus makes us less able to read our own biological signals. Have you ever eaten mindlessly while scrolling or watching TV?
Watching the kids be unable to stop looking at their phones or close their laptops has brought home to me how truly evil it is to let this technology into our schools unfettered. It has also made me realize that it is better to apply the lesson to my own life than to worry so much about the kids.
At such a time as someone asks me, I will tell them that the worst thing there is for these kids is having their phones on them and access to the internet at all times. That I want to work in a phone-free school and politics be damned, if we need a new Vader to bring it about, I’m with him. But I notice…
No one asks me anything. The Democrats do not ask my advice, no one is asking me how to run a school or a district, and at the moment, I am paid to solve problems, not remark upon them.
The one thing that obsessive focus on something one can not control does provide is relief from working on anything concrete that one can do to improve one’s own situation. No doubt that is why it’s so attractive.
Instead of losing weight, rant about Trump. Instead of applying to phone free schools or even writing good articles or drafting the book proposal, talk to people who already agree about how the phones are evil.
At least crushes are fun! While too much focus is bad, I’ve done amazing things under the influence of a crush or even love… lost forty pounds, organized thousands of workers, gotten a masters, changed careers, written a novel, written five plays and produced them, changed careers again, cleaned the shower, published hundreds of articles, oh so many things… good things. More good than bad.
So I’ll choose unplugging, real life, cute guys, faith, cats, tarantulas, flowers and golden retrievers over rants and raves and rage.
But if anyone wants to text me to remind me… feel free. About 7:45 am would be ideal, and then again around eleven, with a follow up at four. You can just write, to quote our dear friend whom we are not allowed to name:
“Girl, you need to chill with your bad self.”
