5 - Juggling
I find juggling fascinating.
Think about the skill and fluidity of motion that is involved in moving several objects through the air. Giving just enough care and thrust that object needs to continue to move. Every piece needs the same amount of attention and force to be hurled airborne in an arc before landing, once again, in my hand. Arriving, ever so quickly, before being shot back up into the space above me.
The higher the amount of balls, the higher the force needed to throw it as far as possible. The more balls there are, the higher the effort needed to support the flow. Once that ball has left the hand, a new ball appears, and the cycle continues.
Think of the advanced juggler who is juggling several balls with one hand, while simultaneously juggling several balls with the other. Sometimes there is a plate spinning, on the end of a pole, being held by the mouth.
No matter how excellent I am at the craft, success also depends on the consistency of the objects being juggled. I study the form and weight and feel of the balls and learn how they react to my hands catching and throwing them. I memorize what is needed to keep the flow positive, and practice so much that I can do it without thinking. My brain is on autopilot as I get into a groove: throwing, catching, moving, balancing. Over and over again, I continue the pattern.
My ability to anticipate the next ball to come into my hand, and my ability to control it is what keeps the movement smooth. The ball needs to behave in a way that I can predict. It needs to perform in a way that I can command.
What happens if the balls change? What if, instead of being smooth and consistent, they begin to morph. The weight is no longer spread throughout but concentrated in an odd spot. Instead of slowly rotating, the ball begins to jerk and contort. The ball grows a sharp point on one side that pokes my hand or disrupts my ease of catching it.
If all of the balls are different, but in the same way, I might be able to adjust and continue the rhythm of catch, transfer, throw. It would certainly be harder, but if they all have sharp points in the same spot to avoid, I can avoid them. If they all shake, I can adapt and continue the show. When things are consistent, I can adjust. No matter how difficult, I can learn the problems and adjust accordingly.
The problem is I’m trying to juggle my life and control each aspect in a smooth and controlled way. But life isn’t regulated or effortless or predictable. Life, and all the things that appear in my day, is crazy.
I have tried different tactics for difficult juggling. Like a magician, there have been times I have given the illusion of smooth movement. Upon closer inspection, you would realize I have my balls glued to clear plexiglass. I am not juggling the balls at all. The only attention given to them is to stand in front and smile. I take adoration from the public for something that I am not doing.
Another common theme is hiding. I have ten balls, but I only show five to the public. The rest I hide and only confront when alone. Insecurity, failures, and inadequacy are balls that I pull out to juggle in the privacy of my home. I am constantly aware of their presence in my life, but I don’t acknowledge and use them constantly. I try to push them aside and pretend they don’t exist. Until I can no longer deny their impact and must place them back into my juggling ring.
I have, in my past, given in to pressure and tried to juggle too many balls. Balls over which I was incapable of providing care. I would dive into projects or activities that were too much for me. Like a child who is just playing, I would toss many balls into the air, then protect my head as they all came raining down around me. I would spend a lot of time running around, picking balls off the ground, and throwing them up in the air. Around and around I would go. Again and again. Over and over. Unprepared and untrained to handle so much.
The thing is, I’m not the only juggler. We all juggle. We just juggle different amounts.
The college student juggling classes with studying, projects, friendships, eating, playing, and sleeping.
The mom juggling childcare, work, exercise, healthy eating, spouse, family and friends.
I can’t even wrap my head around trying to guess what everyone is juggling. There are so many things, and so many facets to each thing listed. The student isn’t just juggling 7 balls. She is juggling several sub balls under the umbrella ball of “classes.” The mom isn’t juggling seven balls either. There are several sub-balls under each category of ball. Each ball is rarely one ball, and none of the balls act the same.
I think, instead of having sub-balls under a category, each sub-ball needs to just be its own ball. I can’t have one ball to encompass “children” if I have more than one child. Children don’t act the same or do the same things. Even identical twins have different interests and different moods. They must be separate balls.
There are often times when one ball requires more attention. A child is going through a difficult time, a work project is on a tight deadline, a parent is ailing. I use one hand to focus all that hand’s attention on the ball. The other hand continues to balance everything else, but it is harder because there is only one hand. Everything is off, and lopsided. Things get dropped. Attention is not even.
I try to manipulate the balls, but I don’t have control. Not really. Especially balls that involve other people. Funny thing about people: they are all unique and flawed and beautiful.
It's such a crazy thought that I am a ball in someone else’s act. For years I realized this subconsciously. I would try to make my life move in a way that was smooth and easy for others to juggle. I didn’t want to disrupt their show.
In the same way, others affect my juggling act. Their selfish inconsiderate actions can make my juggling more complicated.
I could use one hand to balance work and all the balls associated with work. I could use the other hand to balance home and all the balls associated with home. What happens when they collide?
I don’t think the problem is juggling. We all juggle. I think the problem is that I am juggling too much, too soon, without breaks.
If I decide I want to juggle two balls, I can work really hard and achieve that goal. Once proficient at two, I can increase to three, and eventually four balls. I have to decide when I’m ready. No one else can make that decision.
However, other people like to make the decision that I am ready. Or, they don’t even care if I’m ready, they just throw one more ball into the mix.
Sometimes I get snarky and big headed and add more balls without stopping to think about the consequences. Am I ready to have five balls? I might be really good at four balls, but the next item isn’t a ball. It’s a knife. Or a chainsaw. A chainsaw that is running. Have I put thought into this decision?
I might do it. I might pull it all together, become hyper focused, and manage to juggle it all. But for how long?
I’m juggling four balls, a knife and a running chainsaw. I can do it for a little while, but eventually I’ll get tired. Seriously, think about it.
When I decided to tackle the chainsaw, I may have thought it was a ball. The other person juggling it before me made it look so easy. They effortlessly balanced the item with the flow of everything else. Were they lying? Were they pretending? Maybe. Maybe not.
Are there certain things that are easy for you to do that would take me years to master? Do I want to master it? Certainly, if I want to do something hard, I can put forth the effort and achieve it. If I want to. Is it ok if I don’t want to?
Are there things I can do without giving it any thought? Things that, if you ask me how I do it, it would take me time to figure out how to explain because it is just so easy.
I can only juggle so many things before I fail. Each person is different. I can’t tell you how many things to juggle, and you can’t tell me. I have to figure out what I can do, and how long I can do it.
That being said, there can be a desire to master what I have so I can reach to achieve more. That’s ok. Just like the new juggler who is adding one item at a time, I need to master my balancing act before adding one more item. It’s ok to do more. But it needs to be done in a thoughtful, managed way.
The reverse is true as well. I am balancing thirty items, breathing hard and running around like a crazy person trying to keep everything in the air. Should I just stop trying, drop my arms and let everything fall to the ground? Out of the thirty items, there are five that are very dear to me. Instead, slowly and methodically, I need to remove each extraneous activity until I have a manageable amount.
Will that cause problems? Yes, it will. Will people be angry? Yes, they will.
Like a street performer that continues to add balls to please the public, I can try to earn the approval of others. Is it worth it? Do I care anymore about outside opinions? Or, do I care more about what I think about myself? Can I make the decision to honor what I was placed on this earth to do and be? Can I be that person and do the things that really matter?
I lived my life in this crazy act for so many years. Only after going to therapy and dissecting my life did I realize that I was juggling too many activities. I noticed that the more I did on any given day, the more my anxiety would rise. Usually, before the day had even started, I was exhausted. Just thinking about my agenda would send me over the edge.
At the end of a busy day, I couldn’t relax. My brain couldn’t shut down. I would replay each moment in excruciating detail. And as if things couldn’t get any worse, I would start to think about the following day. Could I reorganize or remove items from my to-do list?
My life consisted of hopping from one activity to the next, of grabbing one ball and throwing it up only to have another thrust into my hand. I wasn’t living. I was existing. And it wasn’t a happy existence.
I juggle my children, my fears, my spouse, my insecurities, my chores in my home, and my inability to keep up with it all. During the day, mostly, I am able to brush aside the negative balls and perform a perfect act. At night, when it is dark and quiet, when everyone is asleep and calm, the balls assault my mind as I try to juggle and make sense of them. What can I do to bring harmony to my life? Where can I make adjustments to control the balls, and not let them control me?
I started to pay close attention to my moods. What created a calm? At what point were things too much to handle? Did I operate better in the morning or the evening? Could I sleep if I attended late-night outings?
I didn’t just pay attention to the number of things I did in a day, but also what types of things. Was I putting myself in positions to experience overload? Was I angry that I was doing things I didn’t want to do? Sometimes that is necessary. But was my life filled with “have to” and no “want to?” I love loud music, but was it too much late at night? Do I really need to be in another book club? Was the television causing anxiety? Was I carting kids to activities they weren’t really interested in doing? I like cooking, but day after day it gets monotonous. Could someone help?
I eventually realized I can do three things in a day. Count them: one, two, three. I know, I know, I’m a disgrace to my gender! Very sad. But actually, it’s very helpful!
I try to only plan three major things per day, because that is what I can handle with a sane mind. HOWEVER, it is also helpful to know this information when I have MORE than three things to do. I can become prepared. If I need to plan a busy day, I will schedule decompression time.
Think about your own life. Are you juggling too much? Is there something you can cut that isn’t absolutely necessary? Are there people that are bringing more harassment than joy?
Our lives are meant to be enjoyed. I mean, it’s not supposed to be perfect. But you’re not supposed to run from one activity to the next, never appreciating the moment.
You’re not meant to juggle more than you can handle.