What is an "Impossible Task?" An impossible task refers to something that is objectively a very easy thing to do, including replying to an email, making a phone call, driving to a particular local location to drop something off, clicking the "yes, I'm attending" button Facebook, etc. and yet, while these are completely innocuous things they feel impossible. There is a strange weight on the process. For some reason, typing in the letters and pressing send feels like Sophie's Choice. This makes no sense to anyone on the outside--they're just waiting for you to say yes or no to their text, with no life-changing repercussions or invisible conditions. The main difference between an Impossible Task and a regular task is that you're aware of how superficial and small the task is--again, objectively it's nothing compared to that big project at work or the large undertaking of a multi-step process. That frustration with oneself, knowing that it's not a big deal so why are you reacting to it this way, that's the worst part. The feeling of inadequacy feeds back into yourself, where you're certain that you're even more of a failure because you couldn't bring yourself to get into the turn lane and go to Walgreens while you were already out or something similar. When I was (or when I get) really low, eating lunch or taking a shower easily fit into these categories.
In my experiences, these tasks don't necessarily have a pattern, but there can be some elements where one text reply is fine but two falls into Impossible Task territory, even if it's just the word "okay." In other words, I feel that I'm more quantity based, that even small tasks feel like just that one more thing if I'm already feeling a bit overwhelmed. Another pattern for me is that texts and replying through Messenger become Impossible Tasks more readily than anything else. I can't tell you how many people have told me that I'm a bad texter, not because of what I send or how I send it, but I'm not infrequently slow to reply. Sometimes it's fine and I can spit back an answer as soon as I'm able; other times I read the text and feel a small internal freeze of "I can't deal with this right now," even if the question or greeting is completely innocuous. I have yet to figure out the pattern. Sometimes replying to an email hits me the same way.
Hooray for high functioning depression.
I understand the parts I can about the process, and I have named it, but that does not mean that it excuses it entirely. Sometimes, people need a reply to set their own schedules, and there are some social rules about replying to texts. I weigh these to a point but only to a point. With some texts, I have purposefully waited until I see that individual in person (for non-pressing things) to give them the answer verbally. Part of me thinks "well, if it was that important, they would have called," but I also recognize the availability of texts allows us to give the recipient the courtesy of replying on their own schedule and less likely to interrupt what they're doing. Plus, zinging a quick text can be done less obviously than having a conversation, if that individual shouldn't be on the phone wherever they're currently at, for whatever reason. I still need to find a way to reply and make those important phone calls such as filling out my insurance paperwork for the new year. I find that checklists help me, that outlining them as a single point on a line makes them feel slightly less daunting, particularly as the list steadily gets checked off. Even small steps like eating the ingredients of a sandwich instead of making one, that gets around "preparing food" when that seems like too much.
Andy experiences these, too, some of which revolve around household chores as well as my pattern of emails/texts. However, we've found a loophole: we can trade impossible tasks. I hand Andy my phone and ask him to reply to that text asking when we're arriving for a family event. He asks if I can schedule an appointment for him that he's been putting off. And suddenly, the invisible weight is gone. The task is done and no longer looming on the periphery. I ask him if he will take care of this medical bill; he asks me if I wouldn't mind taking an extra turn unloading the dishes this week. I'm fortunate to have this support readily available, but I've learned that you can start asking this in other places, too. Asking for a ride somewhere means I'm not driving there and suddenly it's okay. Asking someone else to tell someone already going to the same event to RSVP on my behalf works in some cases. There are some good ways that Andy and I can help each other with these: we've adapted some sneaky ways to get around these tasks, but there are still some that linger. Each Task is different in its own way, but we are building our individual library of working through them. It can expand further--I've offered to make other appointment type calls for people before, since I feel a bit more at ease in those places than others. I've offered to meet people places or go with them to certain events to ensure that they're not alone for the process, at least. Once the Impossible Task is identified, there are a number of ways to be sneaky about helping get it done, if you're on the outside of it.
It doesn't seem like much, but relieving the weight of a simple but still impossibly difficult task makes a HUGE difference, mitigating some of the burden while also breaking the chain of that cycle of inadequacy. That simple awareness and even the offer is a wonderful way that we can care for each other.
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