48 Shoulds
It’s so nice to have clarity on something, anything. Too often we aspire to nuance, and we’re reminded to perceive the gradations of grey. But sometimes nuance isn’t needed, and grey can go fuck itself.
I don’t like running. Not a bit. I barely like the concept of it for others, and I downright detest it for myself. For me, that sentence–I don’t like running–is a statement of self-liberation, self-love, and self-satisfaction. I like it so much, and hold it to be such an essential truth about myself, that I included it in the “Interests” section of a recent resume: “I enjoy XYZ.” I wrote, after which I added: “And unlike many people, I do not like running.”
Running, I find, hurts. It hurls the tissue of my hips and breasts around in circles, as cramps inevitably rise under my diaphragm, and my thighs rub insistently upon themselves.
My brother, bless him, is a runner. Not just a runner. Not just a marathoner. An ULTRA-marathoner.
For a long time, I figured that our shared genetics meant that I could be a runner, if only I would run. The thought “I should go for a run,” ran for years through my head, an unbidden thought as insistent and rhythmic as a sneaker beating down upon the trails of my cerebellum.
But “should” is such a tricky word, withholding yet judgemental. “Should,” I believe, might be the most human word, evocative of our proclivity to strive and penchant for failure.
As an emblem of humanity on Earth, I figure the word “should” might share Douglas Adams’ description of said planet, which is to say “mostly harmless,” except as far as I can tell “should” does more harm that it, well, should. Or ought.
Should is the killer of many a morning. “I should go for a run,” may only be detoured from running its course around my brain by a rival unbidden thought: “I should drink less coffee.” “I should drink more water.” “I shouldn’t have had so much wine last night.” “I shouldn’t have ordered all those things on Amazon while drinking wine last night.”
Should isn’t wrong. That’s the secret to its allowed perseverance. It makes many a good point, in none of the right ways.
I know this, also, because I’ve been the human embodiment of “should.”
Oh the things I’ve “shoulded.” From the passenger seat, I’ve shoulded around many a pothole, shoulded opportunities for a left turn, and shoulded much more efficient routes. At home, I’ve shoulded plenty a DIY, always the Christmas tree lights, and the level and spacing of many a framed picture. Most of all, I’ve shoulded the very object of my shoulding, my husband. I’ve shoulded his weight, his career, his screen time, his temper, his joy.
I should, of course, have known better that no one needs verbalized all the shoulds of a missed turn or an imperfect cut in the crown moulding. I should have known of course that the shoulds of diet and exercise and earning potential and parenting are sufficiently represented in one’s own mind, without needing to needle them into your partner, but alas “should have known” means jack shit.
But stopping “shoulding” is about as easy as starting “running.” You know you’d be healthier, you know you’d live a better life. But you don’t know how, for those muscles have no strength, may in fact have atrophied. And besides it’s just just easier, not to. You’re not wrong, you think. It’s not the “should” that’s wrong. He must not see it, otherwise he wouldn’t be doing it, so you’ve got a right to tell him, you figure. And then a moment later, “Marriage shouldn’t be this hard,” as you turn over in bed, facing the opposite direction and feeling ignored, resented, and utterly alone.
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Lately I’ve been on a hiatus with this podcast. At first it was a necessary reallocation of my limited (and decreasing) time and energy. I let a month of Saturdays go by and felt relief at going to bed early on the same Friday nights I had for the year before been laboring with recording and editing and slow internet. Another month of Saturdays slipped by a third and a fourth, around which time I no longer felt the reward of a rest. I felt instead a mixture of creative constipation, and avoidance.
“I should really write a piece this week,” thought as my thumb swiped up to unlock another hour of swiping any which way.
It wasn’t just my writing that had stopped. Any effort to organize my space fell to the wayside, the ease and joy of the Konmari method be dammed. Likewise, my mental calendar of the family commitments greyed, like a white board wiped too many times. Cooking, heretofore a colorful burst of joyfully chopped creativity exercised close to three times a day, lost its roaring, bubbling energy and felt no more than tepid.
“I shouldn’t spend so much time on my phone,” became my refrain as the hours crept up in the graphs of my screen time as Apple not-so-helpfully “shoulded” me every Sunday morning.
But much time I did spend on my phone. I came especially to enjoy the Reels on Instagram. Somewhere along the algorithm, I came upon a stream of ADHD content. I watched, and liked, curious to understand the brains of my husband and daughter. The word “should” came up A LOT. Someone would act out reviewing their homework, housework, bills, laundry, and exercise goals, then the same person, dressed sinisterly as their own ADHD brain, would inevitably burst out and shouts some variation of “shan’t shan’t shan’t!”
Understanding my husband’s ADHD a few years back was an essential step in repairing our relationship. I mean, it didn’t help anywhere near as much as intensive couples therapy, but it helped me understand that his own brain was adding more blocks than any amount of internal or external “shoulding” could ever hope to overcome. The impact of “should” upon ADHD brains, I learned in video after video is, in fact, far from “mostly harmless.” “Should” to someone with ADHD is in reality “mostly harmful,” not to mention completely besides the fucking point. Most people already know what they “should” do, but that doesn’t help most of us actually doing it. So adding to the long list of life’s “shoulds” shame, is just going to create paralysis, anxiety, and self-loathing. You can’t manage ADHD with “should.”
Somewhere along the way of these videos I found myself smiling a different type of smile, one of self-recognition. “Oh yeah, I totally know that feeling.” “OMG yes, laundry IS the worst slash completely impossible.” “Wait doesn’t everyone get a sudden urge to rearrange their furniture?”
In a tale as old as, idk, 2022, I realized, it’s not just my husband and daughter who have ADHD. I totally share many, many of those characteristics and behaviors. Delaying doing email followed by a period of hyperfocus computer and communication tasking–yep. Chore paralysis doing the dosey-do with deep cleaning all the toiletries, closets, and stationary supplies–absolutely. Picking up a new craft or hobby or plant only to abandon it mid way through or give up on all maintenance–you know it! Not putting things away in their spot causing overwhelm due to all the disorganized piles, and never knowing where my keys are put somehow knowing exactly where that random rash cream is–heck yeah times four.
What’s funny is that I hadn’t always been quite that bad. I did use to do my emails, but I often avoided them all morning and then crammed them all in during lunch. I did do chores and put things away in their spot, but only because no one else was fucking doing it. Whether because of socalization or familial necessity, and likely both, I’d become the Queen of Executive Function-landia. To the outside world, heck even in my own self-perfection, I was a strong, capable, ultra-marathoner, running a house, family, full-time job, supporting a family of asylees, and more.
But lately I’d stopped doing so much. Even though I now stay home with the kids, we employ a housekeeper to do the laundry and cleaning. Even though I work less, I find myself just as tired. Even though I’m finally in a climate that could allow me to take a run year round without breathing in icicles or hot steam, I still don’t ever want to go for a run.
It’s a good thing, then, that the Internet people were there to teach me another thing about ADHD. There’s something called unmasking. That is a state, or process, of behaving, existing authentically. It’s a sign of safety, one person said. It shows you can trust someone enough to let your guard down. It’s the opposite of “should.” For all those years when I was “shoulding” my husband, I was “shoulding” myself, I was just better at following my own orders, and masking my own shortcomings.
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It’s the most unlikely of happy endings. Unlike so many we didn’t divorce, even though for a couple years there we thought we should. Instead we managed to rebuild trust and realign ourselves back onto the same team. I came to understand, accept, and love his brain, and how complementary it can be to mine. He came to share more responsibility, emotional vulnerability, and softness with me. The relationship is safe again, for both of us, to be authentic. I’m not “shoulding” myself, or him, any more.
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Which brings me to writing. I love writing. It makes me feel profoundly good. I will never be someone who wakes early in order to go for a long run chasing endorphins, but I will stay up late chasing a memory that leads to a theme that follows another impression or person or trip. And when I get in the flow, when I find the right words, when I hit on the rhythm in the reading, when I muddle through the technology to the point of hitting “publish,” well…I guess I’m one of those lucky people who gets a double hit of creativity and dopamine from the writing process.
I also understand better now, I think, what happens when I withdraw from writing. We all need a break, from time to time, even from the things we love. But there comes a time for the break to end. That’s the moment, it seems, when you might find the “sh” word sneaking up on you. That’s because it isn’t wrong. But remember, it can make many a good point, but in none of the right ways.
For a month at least, writing was only something I should do. And of course during that time I didn’t write a word. But a couple hours ago a line came to me about clarity.
I wrote it down.
And I let the next sentence join it. And another. I ruefully struck the return key for a paragraph break and I was off to the races.
And I write this now in part of the constant effort to remember how good it feels to do what you want to do. Not what you should do. Not only what you need to do. But what you’re good at doing. What brings you joy. What, when you find those statements that release all the best feelings of self-liberation, self-love, and self-satisfaction. It’s easy to forget that feeling, or to worry what you’re writing isn’t nuanced enough all the shades of grey of the human experience. But sometimes nuance isn’t needed, and grey can go fuck itself, and writing can just be done because it feels good.
