Hello, community, first time publishing here šš». Iām from Cuba. If any of you are Cuban too (hello!) or know what life is really like here right now, youāll understand that having control over anything these days is practically an illusion. To make matters worse, I have a strong tendency toward what my psychologist calls "meltdowns." The only way to describe it is this: You see a mountain of tasks ahead, and your body reacts by shutting down completely.
Itās those moments weāve all experiencedāwhen resting feels guilty because you "should" be doing something else, but your mind and body refuse to cooperate. So you replace that sea of important things with addictive behaviors (video games, social media, Netflix, junk foodā¦), which only fills you withā¦ more guilt. And more chaos. Before my psychologist gave it a name, I defined it with a beautiful Spanish term: "me abrumo" (I feel overwhelmed). Abrumarse (to feel overwhelmed) is exactly that: becoming so emotionally or sensorially overloaded that you lose control.
If, on top of that, youāre a recent immigrant (I moved to the capital less than a year ago, completely alone, surviving only on what I earn), have a cat, three jobs, and countless projects swirling around, chaos will take over your life faster than a rooster crows. Thatās why people like me need toolsānot just psychological ones (which Iāll talk about), but practical ones too.
Psychological Tools
Iām not good at meditating, and I absolutely refuse to take any medication that isnāt natural (luckily, I havenāt reached a breaking point in a while). My favorite techniques revolve around what I call "the hill metaphor."
I spent most of my life in Santiago de Cuba, a city defined by its hills. As a child, climbing them exhausted me, and Iād always complain. So my mom invented a game: "Donāt look at the top of the hillālook at the ground and count your steps." It worked perfectly. Later, I realized the mountain of tasks was the same: a series of small, ordered steps to reach the summit.
So I listen to my mom: I donāt look at the peak because it only reminds me how huge the mountain seems. I break tasks into tiny steps, number them, and tackle one thing at a time. Before I know it, everythingās done.
Another tool I use is rewards. "If I manage to write for three hours, Iāll treat myself to something sweet for dessert." "If you want to watch another episode of El Ministerio del Tiempo, finish everything on todayās list first." I know Iām training myself like a puppy, but being your own boss means if you donāt control yourself, who will?
Finally, if Iām already abrumada (overwhelmed), good old breathing techniques plus some calming herbal tea always help.
Practical Tricks
I love making lists and charts. I adore that feeling of orderāchecking things off, having a system. I keep two planners, divided into three sections each. One is for my three official jobs, the other for my three personal projects.
My three jobs are editorial houses where I handle communications. I use charts like this one to plan content by hand (I know it looks chaotic, but trust me, itās not).
I note meetings and any tutorials or courses I come across to improve my efficiency. Then I break all those tasks intoā¦ you guessed it, lists. Small steps. The path up the mountain. My favorite part of the day is making these lists. I know itās not normalābut at nearly 30, Iāve made peace with not being normal.
Then thereās my other planner. I founded and run a cultural project called Atabey (named after the TaĆno goddess of waters, creation and fertility, and, in some specific myths, a feminine primordial principle or order aginst chaos).
It focuses on Caribbean speculative fiction (sci-fi, fantasy, etc.), reviving forgotten cultures and blending them with modern elements. My personal motto for this project is: "If it wonāt make me money, at least donāt let it make me lose money." In Cuba, culture rarely pays the bills, but Iāve never bought into the myth of the artist who lives on air.
With Atabey, I have a thousand things in progress: registering the brand, legal paperwork (which requires finishing my address change in the capital), at least five anthologies in "pre-production" (finding authors, pitching to publishers) or "production" (chasing authors for stories, organizing them, getting contracts signedāartists arenāt always organized š). Plus online courses, future events, and networking for funding.
Then thereās Hive. I organize content similarly to my official jobs and check things off. Itās a job in itself, as you all know.
Lastly, my actual writing career. I now have six books (I just got the news of the 6th one yesterday! š) in editing with six different publishers, two outside Cuba. That requires a lot of lists. And Iām simultaneously writing three more books, plus a pile of ideas on standby. Ideas arenāt the problemātime is.
So I create what I call "stalker mood boards." It started with oneā¦ now thereās one for each book and another for random ideas. Honestly, like with lists, I enjoy making these as much as writing.
(Sorry for the blurry photos. If my editors find out a post giving away ideas for free, I'm done š
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And finally, house stuff. As I mentioned, I have a cat. I didnāt want the responsibility while adjusting to a new city alone, but KP3 was abandoned in a dumpster and has special needs. The moment I saw him, I knew no one would love him more than me. Yeah, heās as weird as his owner. Weāre good.
KP3 finding interesting places to take naps š. Survival tip from the tropics:** When the blackout hits, ditch the bed ā tile floors stay cooler.
So I manage the house (which, given my personality, must also be clean and scheduled) and cat care (heās not just a pet but an adopted childāa real responsibility). I jot these tasks on papers stuck to the fridge. I also note the weekly planned blackout schedules for my home and my first (in-person) jobās neighborhood, so I know which days to go in when thereās power.
And thatās my life. Before you ask: Yes, Iām on the spectrum and only found out recently. Still don't talk about it a lot (to whom?). My psychologist noticed, but before we could explore it further, I left my hometown. Itās fine. I always knew I wasnāt normal. Even my mom wasnāt surprised. I wish Iād known sooner, butā¦ it wouldnāt have changed much.
All my meltdowns, depressive phases, and low self-esteem were part of a long, hard journey that made me who I am today. And Iām pretty happy with who I amābut even happier with who Iāll become. From here, itās onward to infinity, friends.