Snowy Day

It’s snowing that perfect snow today. Fluffy, white, light as down. Gathering on even the smallest twig so every tree is decorated with a soft white foliage.

Of course, so is every driveway, sidewalk and car. Before we left we shoveled away mounds of fluff, and brushed the car from stem to stern. It took less than ten minutes.

And then we were on our way, trundling through the cautious traffic, everyone driving warily, like old people walking on ice.

One car caught my attention. A big black Dodge Magnum, or Cadillac, one of those beefy thick cars that look like a Hot Wheels and are never driven by women.

It pulled out from a side street ahead of us. The back and side windows covered in snow. The wipers churning furiously to clear the drifts off the windshield. Clearly here was a driver who did not have 10 minutes to spare. With a car that big, the payments probably mean he needs to be at work sooner. (I say He because those big cars are never driven by women. Buying a big tank of a car is a guy thing. Unless it’s one of those huge SUV’s you see with a tiny woman inside ferrying her… (I digress))

Seeing the driver, in a hurry, too busy to take even a minute to wipe off the snow, reminded me of a joke about the driver who was running all the traffic lights because he was in such a hurry to get places he didn’t have time to learn the rules of the road or obey the laws or even take a minute to plan his route.

Short term gain, long term pain. In fact, the driver of the big black tank was driving slower than anyone else, because… he couldn’t see out his mirrors or rear view. We zipped by him. Through the snowy windows I caught a glimpse of a strained face, grim, staring ahead, not quite at panic, but only one red light away from cursing and yelling. (Okay, I may be adding a bit of opinion there. But I’m going somewhere with this, so allow me to be judgmental and assume the worst.)

Who knows how long it would have taken him to wipe the snow off his car. Maybe he would have actually saved quite a bit of time. Or maybe it would have cost him 30 extra seconds. Or maybe it would have been a wash. But I’ll wager it would have added time to his lifespan. The stress on his face was alarming. Adrenaline is a powerful drug. But like injecting Nitro into a car’s engine, the extra speed comes at a cost, wearing down the engine and shortening it’s lifespan.

Consider how many employees would resent it if their boss asked them to say, walk across a narrow plank over a pit of acid, to reach their office. I’m guessing most of us would. “How dare you ask me to risk my life, or risk suffering permanent scarring, just to make a buck for this company.”

And yet how many of us race to work or put aside exercise, eating healthy and being with friends to please the boss. (Especially if we are the boss and it’s our company.)

Notice how many people eat lunch while rushing around. It used to be only street kids walking up Yonge Street in Toronto with a slice of pizza in their hand. Now white collar workers who make six figures are dashing around with a tuna wrap in their hand. Yet what if those people had been told during their job interview, “And by the way, we don’t have a lunch room. We require all our employees to eat standing up, while working, and rushing around.” They’d be outraged.

“What? Your company requires me to drive way over the speed limit and risk my life to get to all my clients in a day? Forget it!” Or, imagine if your child came home after their first day at their new job and said, “We have to drive unsafely and take chances and cut people off while we’re making deliveries. Also, I’m not allowed to have any spare time to see friends.” You’d be calling the Canadian Human Rights Commission to register a complaint.

And yet, we do these things to ourselves. We double our stress to increase our income. We overload ourselves with work, doing more than we would ever ask of anyone else. And our bosses, who have their bosses, or their customers, or shareholders, allow us. “No one is forcing you.”

With the economy tanking and unemployment rising, I keep waiting for more people to click into the idea of everyone working shorter hours. Rather than having one person working 60 hours a week and two other people unemployed, (Which means the person working 60 hours has to pay a lot of money into Unemployment Insurance) why not have each of them working a sensible 20 hours. The one who was working 60 hours now has an extra 40 hours to be with family, or, since for many people that’s not exactly a fun option, 40 hours to go fishing, garden, read, write, make love, or work on their model railroad.

Already President Obama has mentioned how some workers are taking fewer hours to keep coworkers on the payroll. If everyone is making enough money to cover their expenses, how much more do we want?

I once heard about an island in the South Pacific where people work until they have enough money saved so they can live, then they go and spend the majority of their time on what matters—namely creating art.

What a concept! Make money to live, then go do what you want. You have one life. Explore. Experience. Enjoy. That trip to Argentina you want to do won’t be easier when you’re 20 years older, believe me.

Far too many seniors die with millions in the bank, money they could have used to spend the last 30 years of their lives traveling, relaxing, taking adventures, donating to charity, teaching, mentoring, creating, pursuing hobbies, reading and writing and… (I digress.)

The point is, with ADHD it’s very easy to dash out the door and hop in the car, thinking “I’m late. The wind will blow the snow off when I get going fast.” And then you find yourself in slow moving traffic and the snow piling up even higher. And I drive past in my car and see the look in your face.

It’s your life. You are in charge. Don’t let circumstances or people or fear or anxiety rush you. Stand up for yourself. If you find that hard, imagine how you stand up for your child, or your grandmother if someone was bullying them.

Take your time. Wipe off the damn windshield. (You’ll never know the pain you avoided by actually being able to see that kid at the corner, but trust me, it will be worth it.) Take three minutes to prepare the healthy lunch. Take four seconds to pick up the boots in the hallway so no one trips. Turn off tonight’s episode of Jeopardy and call your Mom to thank her for giving you life. (And don’t blame her for how you’ve screwed it up.)

Start with small things, and don’t allow yourself to go to upset if you stumble or have setbacks. Just keep taking charge of your life. Item by item. Moment by moment. And watch the calmness rise. Watch the stress evaporate. Notice how you actually have time to hear what your spouse or kids are saying. Heck, you might even find yourself spending a whole two minutes just watching the fluffy, light snow gathering on the twigs.