The Tyranny of Efficiency

My brain is obsessed with efficiency, to the point that it becomes inefficient.

When clearing the table, most people probably think—or do without thinking—"I will take my plate and cup to the dishwasher at the same time." It just makes good sense. Both things are there in front of you and both of them will be going in the dishwasher. Just make one trip. No big deal.

Well, at some point, this normal mindset grew so big that it's been trying to eat me for the last couple of years. Sometimes I'll be trying to do something—often cooking—and I'll get in a state that's an oxymoronic combination of being in a frenzy and being paralyzed. THIS FIRST—NO THIS FIRST WHILE THIS—NO, THAT—WAIT, OVER THERE—NO, GRAB THA—NO, STOP. It feels like it has something to do with my having OCD. I need things to be the most efficient:

Open the cabinet, grab the pepper THEN the salt behind it, leave the cabinet open, season the meat, put the salt back then—no, you need the salt for the brussel sprouts—leave the salt and pepper on the counter—the cabinet door is still open, which bothers you, but it's okay because it doesn't make sense to close it yet—wasted energy—chop the brussel sprouts, get their bowl—while you're on this side of the kitchen grab the spoon you'll need, close the silverware drawer—open the other cabinet, get the oil, don't close the cabinet door because you'll have to put the oil back in a second, now two cabinet doors are open, which bothers you, but it's okay because it's efficient, pour oil in the bowl with the brussels, add salt and pepper, put the salt and pepper away FINALLY, close the cabinet door, while you're on this side of the kitchen—oh, should've brought the cutting board with the brussels sprout ends on it because the trash can is on this side of the kitchen too, wasted trip, ugh, go back and get the cutting board, yes, now you have the cutting board and you can put the oil back and close the other cabinet FINALLY and slide over and step on the trash can and the lid opens and scrape the brussel sprouts ends into it with the knife and while you're here you should get the tin foil out of the drawer, but your hands are full of cutting board and knife but you're here so put the knife on the cutting board and balance it and grab the tin foil out of the drawer and take everything back with you, the drawer is open and that bothers you but it's okay because you'll just have to open it to put the tin foil back in a minute and do you think you could get the maple syrup out of the fridge too though because you're right here beside the fridge and efficiency and—

Slowly but surely, my OCD brain has become consumed not just with counting sounds and making sure I blink right, but with efficiency. Everything has to be as efficient as possible. No wasted time, energy, effort—

Except that I am wasting time, energy, and effort. My brain comes up with cost-saving plans only to abort them and replace them halfway through with new, grander, more efficient plans, filling me with artificial urgency and robbing every moment of its potential for quiet joy.

I can't just brush my teeth. I have to be catching up on work messages or listening to a podcast or—hey, what about BOTH? You could TRIPLE-task, wouldn't that be the MOST efficient?

This is much more than just getting the groceries in one trip; this is...not being able to take out the salt and pepper unless I can find a second activity to pair that with, to make the most of every second.

Where is this coming from? Who has told me that things must be fast and efficient?

No one, really. It might be the mental illness, or it might be "society." We are a people obsessed with instant gratification and a fast pace, which might be related. I'm not sure, but I am sure that this growing obsession is making me a little crazy.

For a few months, I've known that this is something I need to get ahold of. I'm heaping huge amounts of stress onto myself for absolutely no reason. I am rarely in a legitimate rush. There is usually no one around me to impress with my speed. I have nothing in mind that I want to do with my saved time or energy.

So, in December, I decided to slow down. I decided to go so slowly. I decided to be as inefficient as possible.

After folding laundry, I made myself take each stack into the bedroom separately. I took only my socks to the closet and put them away, then I went back and got my underwear and put them in the drawer right under my sock drawer. I could've easily done that in one trip, but I chose not to.

When I refilled the water pitcher, I stood in front of the sink and watched it fill. I only did that. I didn't rush to the pantry to get my drink mix before the pitcher overflowed or try to put something away while the pitcher filled.

When I unloaded the dishwasher, I took out the silverware holder and unloaded it by itself, even though it would've been more efficient to take the cutting boards with me since they go in the cabinet right under the silverware.

I've continued to discipline myself to do this in the new year.

How much more time does all of this take? Negligible. Cannot even tell a difference.

How much more peace am I able to retain?

I N F I N I T E L Y more.

There's no rush. There never has been any rush, I just convinced myself there was, for no reason.

When I die, I don't want to be able say that I saved the most time putting away the salt and pepper. What the hell? I would like to be able to say that I enjoyed my life, that I noticed little things that made me happy, and that I was able to confer peace on others.

I'm sharing this for two reasons: 1) It clearly falls under the umbrella of "becoming me." I'm trying to become a less hurried person. But also 2) I wonder if other people struggle with the tyranny of efficiency. You know, if you choose to slowly, it's not "losing." You can't lose a game you're not playing. Don't play the efficiency game. Go slow on purpose. See what happens.

~Stephanie