Not Knowing When to Say When on a Writing Project: A Blockage Between Contact and Withdrawal

Erica and I are obsessive compulsive. We are two peas in a highly organized pod. Of course, the clean house isn't the problem. It's the constant second-guessing of whether we have done enough to justify living for the day that gets us. If I'm playing video games while Erica is out cleaning the hooves of the horses, I feel like I ought to be mowing the lawn or at least preparing dinner or something.

And then there is the familiar scene when we're doing a project together, such as building new shelves for what we are calling our pool shed (even though we don't have a pool, which is a longer story). We start the project full of enthusiasm. We read through the instructions and organize the parts and little baggies of nuts and bolts. Then we start building. 

Whitehead Pool Shed

Fast-forward to three hours later. We're both tired of the tedious instructions and the having to fix little mistakes we've made along the way. The sensible thing to do would be to take a break or call it a day for that project, but that's not what we do. We keep working, because stopping before we've finished means admitting failure.

Without realizing it, we start accusing the other person of how we're feeling. "Maybe you need a break," and so on. 

We are unable to recognize that we have reached a stopping point. Our bodies and minds and patience have worn thin and we have gotten sloppy and lazy. We need to withdraw. Do something else. Eat a snack. But we can't see it or we won't admit it. So we push forward until one or both of us has a fantastic meltdown. 

We exhibit a blockage between Contact and Withdrawal.

The Blockage Between Contact and Withdrawal

You've experienced this blockage with the normal Wake - Sleep cycle if you've ever stayed up well past your bedtime. Your skin starts to hurt. You can't think of anything but bed. You start to hate whatever you're doing or whomever you're with. But maybe you have a deadline or maybe you're trying to relive the crazy nights of your late teens and early twenties.

Writing projects have natural cycles too. We have been looking at blockages throughout the cycle during this series, and the final one is being unable to recognize or admit when you need to step away from your project.

Zinker writes, "The individual who interrupts contact and withdrawal is not able to let go at the height or culmination of his experience. He hangs on to the experience beyond the point of its optimum return and may use the defense of denial to shut out sensations of fatigue, heaviness, or dullness" (p. 110). 

When I first started writing serious (which was my dissertation), I tried to write at least 5,000 words per day. I averaged this for maybe six days before becoming absolutely burned out, ready to quit the program.

Since then I've realized how to spot when I'm running low on ability and creativity. Still, every six months or so I find myself ready to quit writing entirely. This is evidence that I'm out of touch with the boundary between Contact and Withdrawal. I keep working on my articles, essays, books, or even blog posts when I would be better served going for a walk, taking a nap, or playing the piano.

How the Blockage Happens

I decide that I would like to write an article on Kurt Goldstein. I spend an hour or so each day reading, outlining, or writing drafts. It's always a healthy Contact - Withdrawal balance at first, because I'm not sure what the project will become. But eventually I get neurotic about it. I think, "I'll never finish it if I don't knock it out this weekend!" or "I haven't published anything in six months, what will my colleagues think?" 

In TA terms, I'm driven by Adapted Child emotions. In Gestalt Therapy language, I'm living in the Intermediate Zone (of imagination). 

Either way, I am out of touch with the interrelationship between my body and my environment. I am driven instead by my obsession with publishing another article or whatever.

The Root of the Problem

I think the root of the problem is the "hustler" mindset, which runs rampant on social media and in a lot of books pitched to PhD students and amateur writers. The hustler mindset tells you to ignore the bodily signals that are telling you to go do something else. It tells you to write 200 more words. Or it tells you that you can't rest until you've met your goal for the day.

Over the weeks and months, you train yourself to be completely out of touch with the natural rhythms of your cognitive and physical work loads. You are governed instead by ideology (e.g., "I should publish five books" or "I should get one article out every six months").

How to Correct the Blockage

The solution is to practice noticing. Noticing when you start feeling tired and uncomfortable sitting at your keyboard. Notice when the creativity is slowed to a drip or has dried out completely. Notice how long it takes to rest and what some of the cues are that rest is happening. Notice what it feels like to be full of enthusiasm once more.