Dealing With Overwhelm

Seth talked my ear off today.

Today I felt the pressure. Not the good kind of pressure that pushes you through a throwing session where everything lines up and the forms practically throw themselves. No, this was the heavy kind, the kind that builds up like clay reclaim left sitting too long in a bucket, slowly stiffening and sticking to itself until it becomes one heavy, unmanageable mass. The list of things I need to do is long. I’ve got pots drying under plastic, a half-built kiln, a car that needed new tires, and shows creeping up on the calendar. Somewhere in that pile is a person who also needs to rest, and maybe even make something meaningful. Overwhelm doesn’t come from having too many options it comes from not making a choice. That’s something Seth Godin says, and today I felt the truth of it.

In his book, The Practice, Seth talks often about the tension we avoid when we face a decision. Not making the call gives us a strange comfort; we get to delay the discomfort of being wrong, of wasting time, or of putting something into the world that might not work. So we wait. We stall. We scroll. We go to the fridge. We walk around the studio but don’t sit at the wheel. We convince ourselves that we’ll get to it tomorrow, after just one more piece of information or just a little more energy. But the work doesn’t get done in the waiting. The work gets done when we embrace the tension and say, “I’m doing this now.” That’s the only way the pile of reclaim becomes workable again—by cutting it, wedging it, and turning it back into clay you can throw with.

When I’m overwhelmed, I try to remember that the pottery doesn’t need to be perfect. The pots don’t care about my to-do list. They don’t care about how many likes the last photo got or how smooth the surface was on the mug that sold out in five minutes. They just need to be made. I think about what Seth said once: “If it’s important enough to be on your list, then it’s important enough to be done now, not later.” That gets me moving. Not with frantic energy, but with focused intention. Pick the smallest thing. The next right step. Maybe that means wiping down the studio table or setting up the wheel for tomorrow. Maybe it means editing a blog post or pulling five handles. One thing at a time. One pot at a time. That’s how the big work gets made, by showing up, doing the work in front of you, and letting the rest wait its turn.

I don’t have it all figured out. Most days, I’m just like you, swimming through resistance, elbowing my way through the chaos, and trying to remember why I started making pots in the first place. Overwhelm doesn’t mean you’re broken. It just means you care. The hard part is deciding what to care about first. That’s what Seth reminds us of: it’s not about being productive; it’s about being intentional. So today, if the only thing you do is decide to make one small thing that matters, that’s enough. That’s more than enough. You moved the needle forward. You practiced your craft. You showed up for yourself and for those who care. That’s the kind of overwhelm I can live with—the kind that reminds me I’m still all in.

If I were living yesterday a second time, I would have:

Started my day a little earlier, but gave myself a break. It’s Sunday!

Things I am grateful for:

Seth Godin’s other book: Poke the Box.

If I get to live to be 86, I only have:

13087 days left.