Are You a Manic Workaholic Who Never Feels Satisfied? A Blockage Between Action and Contact

Every few months I find myself in a manic fugue state. This usually begins with a general feeling of disappointment that I don't have a book on its way to the press or an article acceptance letter sitting in my inbox. I think, "I HAD BETTER GET WORKING ON SOMETHING, AND QUICK!" That's when I start looking at old manuscripts I'd given up on and wondering how soon I can have them out for publication. 

Sound familiar? If so, then read on.

This exact thing happened over the holiday break. I dusted off a nondirective teaching book I'd given up on and decided that I would just go ahead and publish it. "Someone might get something out of it," I reasoned, and I sent it to an editor who had been pestering me about submitting something.

Ordinarily this sort of indiscretion would cost me 6-8 months of my free time to get through all the reviewer comments, revisions, formatting, marketing materials, and so on--all for a book I don't really care about. All for the sake of being busy.

Like many of you, I'm sure, I have a Type A personality, which is a vague way of saying that I can work manically hard if necessary to achieve my goals. I can put my head down, so to speak, and grind through theses, dissertations, articles, book chapters, assessment reports, and on and on--all without feeling the process. When I'm in grind-it-out mode, I don't experience the joy of finding the right word. I don't stare out the window for an hour puzzling over a question I can't quite resolve. And I don't feel like I'm contributing something important to the world.

This is the interruption between action and contact described by Joseph Zinker. He writes of this sort of person: "He talks a lot and does a hell of a lot, but he cannot assimilate his experience. He is not in contact with his work and is not nourished by his energy output or the consequences of his behavioral generosity" (p. 108). And, later, "he is all over the place; he is distracted. When he eats, he cannot taste the food. [...] When he runs, he is not aware of the contraction and relaxation of muscle groups" (p. 108).

Zinker notes that the person in this state often feels empty--empty because they don't experience the bounty of their labor. They are out of touch with the consequences of what they do. They're too busy for this. So they turn to drugs, sex, shopping, and other short-term solutions for feeling something.

According to his biographer and the people who knew him, Fritz Perls took eating very seriously. He always chewed every bite thoroughly and focused on what he was doing. Perls was critical of people who ate while watching television or being distracted by something else. If they were too busy to eat, Perls reasoned, then they were too busy to assimilate their experiences throughout life. I'm guilty of eating in front of the television, by the way.

Zinker suggests that people like me set time aside to notice what they're doing--to be mindful in the language of contemporary cognitive behavioral therapy. For me I have to constantly tell myself to go about my life at half-speed. I don't literally walk half as fast as I normally do, but it feels like it. Before mowing the lawn, I decide to make it take as long as possible rather than seeing how quickly I can get it over with. Then I apply this to everything in my life.

Except that mostly I don't. I sit at the computer and say, "Write something you good-for-nothing POS!"