For the longest time, I’ve known that I move too quickly. I move faster than my brain can think. I’m always moving, and going, and going.
I’ve heard it from my mom. As a kid, I was somewhat clumsy, and my mom always told me to just slow down. She would tell me over & over again to think more before I spoke, and I just couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to do that.
One time in college, someone called me a spaz because I was in the university cafeteria trying to make a decision on…something. I distinctly remember just freezing, the whole paralysis-by-analysis thing, and I dropped my Tupperware lid, and she said that. It was a frustrating moment because I couldn’t figure out how to explain that my brain and body just never stop moving. I don’t know, that’s always a weird memory to explain, but I just remember always hearing that I move too quickly.
I heard it from some preceptors. One time, I was wheeling away a cart with a 10-gallon cooler on it, and I was moving too quickly, trying to get it done. My preceptor stopped me, and told me that I didn’t need to rush. He told me that it was okay to slow down so I wouldn’t spill anything. He was the first person I can remember who told me that it was okay to slow down. I started to see that we can do things in different ways and be more effective. Nevermind efficiency all the time — effectiveness is also important. I…
