Happy Distractions
I keep an intentional level of distraction at my desk. Knowing that I will get distracted no matter what, I have decided to control what I can get distracted by. I figure that if I’m going to get distracted no matter what, I might as well get distracted looking at something that makes me happy.
It just happens that the things that make me happy have not changed since I was about seven: reading, writing, animals, anything that looks like an animal, dirt, soft plants, office supplies, bright colors, not wearing shoes.
The specifics have changed. I’ve always hyperfixated on specific animals, so over time I’ve cycled through intense interests in dogs, pandas, triceratops, binturongs, red pandas, giraffes, foxes, and currently raccoons. But most things haven’t changed.
You could get to know me very well by looking at the space I’ve decorated. The corner of the room where my desk sits is full of stuffed animals and stickers and dolls and brightly colored pens. There are little animal erasers scattered around.
I have scraps of paper with reminders scribbled on them, next to an old coffee mug and a butter knife, for some reason.
It’s chaotic the same way I am.
On my walls, I’ve tacked up letters from my friends, pictures they’ve painted, pictures of us together. I keep pictures of plants and landscapes from Costa Rica in view, next to posters of mushrooms and ferns. An old picture of my siblings and I looking angry next to a toy dump truck. A button depicting Patrick from that chocolate episode of Spongebob.
I’ve found that I focus better when the things I’m distracted by the things that make me happy. Seeing those memories with friends makes my heart feel lighter and makes me remember that my person is not equivalent to the work I produce.
In my long path to self-acceptance, working in a space that reflects my personality so strongly has helped me believe in good things about myself. Because my desk space is like me, and I like it. So that must mean I like me, too.
