The Week I Did Whatever the Hell I Wanted To

Meditations for Mortals Wonder Club, Week 3

Hello, Wonder Clubbers!

What have you been wondering this week? (Besides WTH is even happening to our country?) If you’ve been following along in our reading this month, Oliver Burkeman’s Meditations for Mortals, you’re probably somewhere around Day 20 by now. (If you’re not, no worries, today’s post is still for you!) I found the last few days of reading a goldmine of ideas and insights. Join me on Substack notes next week to chat more about the three-hour rule, developing a taste for problems, and doing things daily-ish.

And, if you’re enjoying these musings on MfM, it would mean so much if you would share them with others who might be interested! (Button at the end of this post, or smash that “Forward Email” tab!)

For today, I have for you a story, a wonder, and an experiment…

The other day I asked my son something innocuous. So innocuous I can’t remember what it was. Maybe it was whether or not he’d practiced piano. Or what time he planned to start his homework. But whatever it was, what he heard was an accusation, and his response—pure hostility.

His nervous system had detected threat, and I’d inadvertently been thrust into the role of opponent, in a battle I’d had no intention of waging.

Photo by Some Tale on Unsplash

I wanted to reassure him of my innocence, of my good intentions, but I knew that once he was in battle mode, he’d only hear my words as more shots fired. When human amygdalae are clanging and screeching about a perceived five-alarm fire, they’re unable to take in new information or perspectives. It’s literally impossible for them to “change their minds,” Because their minds are locked in a life-or-death grip of ensuring survival.

Maybe this story has you thinking of a situation you’ve been in, either one where you’ve been enemy-fied or maybe you were the one seeing threat in a situation where little harm was intended.

But what happens when you discover the enemy is inside you?

Day 16 of Oliver Burkeman’s Meditations for Mortals is titled, “The Reverse Golden Rule: On not being your own worst enemy.” In the chapter, Burkeman posits that in order to get meaningful tasks done, we may need to stop thinking of ourselves as the enemy, as the ones getting “in the way” of accomplishing our goals.

If we can stop thinking the worst of ourselves, he writes, and instead, get curious enough to discover a more compassionate view, we might find renewed energy and motivation for our tasks. Then, he suggests a pretty weird way of enacting this approach: Try letting yourself do whatever you want.

When I read this idea, which he learned from meditation teacher Susan Piver, my instinctive first thought was “Okay… so I should just give up on getting anything done?!” Without daily self-pestering and self-criticism, I wasn’t sure I trusted myself to do much of anything. Which was clue number one that unbeknownst to me, I’d made myself into my own enemy.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my own experiences being enemy-fied, it’s that the key ingredient in enmity is distrust. My kid didn’t trust that my questions weren’t intended to accuse or harm, that I wasn't coming from a place of malice or rejection. And I didn’t trust that spending my days following my desires wouldn’t just lead to unending slothful selfishness.

When I considered organizing my days around what I “wanted” to do, my threat-o-meter started screeching like gangbusters. You can’t trust me to want to do the “right” things!! I’m too lazy! Undisciplined!

These “truths” seemed indisputable. Yet, the idea intrigued me. I’d been so used to bludgeoning and pushing and forcing and mentally toughing myself into doing things, what might the opposite feel like? I decided to devise an experiment to find out:

What would my week look like if I did only and exactly whatever the hell I wanted?

For a week, I committed to asking myself “What do I want?” before doing any task. At first, the questions seemed absurd to me.

• Do I want to take my kids to school?

• Do I want to remind them it’s almost time to go every two minutes?

• Do I want to curse when I can’t find my keys and it’s time to get out the door?

• Do I want to sit down and write this newsletter?

• Do I want to answer my husband’s six texts about the task I originally asked him to do because I felt too busy to do it?

• Do I want to email that client?

• Do I want to do a load of laundry?

One might think that surrendering my daily life to the whims of the moment might have meant the answer to these questions would surely be, “Heck no! I’m hopping on the first plane to Mexico!”

But, much to my surprise, it turned out the answer to most of these questions (save the one about cursing about my keys) was yes.

It turns out that when I give myself the chance to choose, I actually want the responsibilities and tasks of the life I’ve signed up for.

No, I don’t like nagging my kids, but I also know they’re still developing their sense of time, and frequent reminders help us get to school on time, which is something I do want. No, I didn’t love having to interrupt my work to respond to my husband’s texts, but I appreciated that he wanted to get the task done right, and frankly, I realized I hadn’t given him much direction when I dumped the task on him in the first place.

Some choices took a bit extra time and excavation to figure out my true “want.” Take yesterday’s laundry. At 6:45 am, I found myself blearily hiking up and down the stairs with my kid’s smelly soccer uniforms squeezed to my chest, lest an errant muddy sock break loose.

“Do I want to be doing this?” I asked myself sarcastically as I pushed the load into the washer. I fantasized about what I’d rather be doing instead—kicking up my feet with coffee and a book, or texting funny memes to a friend. But as I mulled the question over, I realized that, yes, there was a part of me that wanted to do laundry… I wanted those clothes to be clean. I didn’t want to have to do it later. And I was looking forward to the satisfaction of having the job done.

I realize now that I’d been confusing desire with fantasy. Fantasy is a life lived without consequences. It’s the 24/7 indolent Funfest we think we’ll get if we surrender our days to following our desires. But life without consequences is never an option for humans living here on earth. Hopping a plane to Mexico would mean choosing sun and fun, but it would also mean abandoning my family, the work I care deeply about, and probably a whole mess of other unintended consequences. In other words, we never get to choose just the “good” parts of our choices, we have to take the whole enchilada.

And so, surprisingly, day by day, choice by choice, my week of doing whatever I wanted unfolded nearly identically to the weeks that came before.

The difference lay in my approach and my attitude. When I took time to check-in with myself before a task, asking, “Do I want to do this?,” it gave me an opportunity to defuse my defensive, activated-nervous-system, to drop the bullying, enemy energy from which I so often try to wrestle myself into action, and to instead, practice compassionate curiosity.

Listening to desire has definitely been a work-in-progress. There were times when the answer to “What do I want to do?” was a resounding, “Something else!” and I witnessed how powerful and instinctive the urge to browbeat myself can be. Nap or housework? In the name of experimental fidelity, I surrendered to the nap, which honestly probably served my family better in the long run.

And as for my son, when he gets heated, ready for a fight, I’m learning I must think of another way to approach him. I bet you can guess what’s worked best… Would you be up for practicing piano soon? What do you think about starting homework at 5? Asking him what he wants. A bit of compassionate curiosity.

Doing whatever I wanted for a week has helped remind me that I’m free do anything I want to do, as long as I’m willing to accept the consequences. It’s put me back in touch with my desires—powerful fuel for action, indeed. And, perhaps most importantly, it has helped me begin to trust those desires to lead me right into my loveliest, most fulfilled life.