The word perseveration has been coming into my mind with great frequency these days. It’s a cool word, you know? The verb form, perseverate, sounds like some weird techno-version of persevere, except that the -ate tacked onto the end makes it sound like something you do with a Cuisinart.
Anyway, I became curious as to what the authorities think perseveration means, so I went to the Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary and looked it up. Check out the definition and etymology:
Main Entry: per·sev·er·a·tion
Pronunciation: \pər-ˌse-və-ˈrā-shən\
Function: noun
Etymology: Latin perseveration-, perseveratio, from perseverare
Date: 1910
Definition: continuation of something (as repetition of a word) usually to an exceptional degree or beyond a desired point
— per·sev·er·ate \-ˈse-və-ˌrāt\ intransitive verb
— per·sev·er·a·tive \-ˌrā-tiv\ adjective
I have read that people on the spectrum perseverate about things large and small, and I’m no exception. I’ve had therapists, boyfriends, schoolmates, and family all tell me that I think about things for far too long and that I need to give things a rest. Of course, it’s never seemed like too long to me. Having all those thoughts constantly spinning in my brain, like a hamster on a wheel, has always felt perfectly normal to me. But then again, in the words of a Paul Simon song, “When something’s wrong, I’m always the first to admit it, and always the last to know.”
Not that anything is wrong with perseverating, unless you’re driving the other people in your house nuts with it. That’s where continuing a process “beyond a desired point” gets people tense. Lately, I’ve been watching myself perseverate, and for me, it’s been great fun. My husband doesn’t much mind either, except when I say, “I’ll be right there to watch the movie,” and an hour later, I’m still working on whatever-it-is that really, truly, I-mean-it was only supposed to take a few more minutes to finish.
My main warning sign that I’m about to go on a roll comes very early in the game. It usually starts with a “nudge-nudge, wink-wink” of denial, as in, “I’ve got this great idea for a new mobile, and I’m just going to wind the beads around one spoon before coming downstairs and finishing breakfast.” Yeah, right. Several hours later, I’m still working on the mobile and haven’t had anything to eat or drink at all.
Now, I know better than to start when I have a commitment outside my house in the early afternoon. I’ve set up my schedule to start my volunteer work at 1 pm, which means that I need to eat, drink water, work out, drink more water, shower, dress, and generally take care of myself before going out into the world. If it’s a week that my daughter is with me, I can stave off the perseveration even without an outside commitment, because her schedule gives me a schedule, and thus a break from my own extremely focused process.
But if my daughter is at her father’s house, my husband is visiting his dad, and I’m not working outside my house, I’ve got the green light to go. I get so absolutely lost in whatever I’m doing that I couldn’t tell you whether five minutes have passed or five hours.
Lately, when I have time to myself, I’ve been perseverating with my art. I love trying things out, and seeing how they look, and taking things apart when they don’t work, and trying something new, and seeing how to do a task that’s been stumping me. I love the feeling of the beads in my hands. I love wrapping the wires to get them to coil just right. I even love the nicks and the callouses I’m getting on my fingers. I love the whole blessed thing.
When I’m alone and can let the art take me where it wants me to go, I find that perseverating doesn’t happen “beyond a desired point,” because there is no desired point. At those times, it’s the “continuation of something…to an exceptional degree.” It’s better than persevering. It’s persevering by letting go and letting the process take me where it will. It’s persevering with inspiration.
However, nothing exists in isolation from its opposite. So while perseverating on my art feels wonderful, having to stop for any reason is very, very difficult. Sometimes, it feels painful. Perseverating is physical, like a powerful force that doesn’t want to stop. Something has to interpose itself between me and the object of my perseveration. Sometimes, an external commitment, like a doctor’s appointment, will do it. At other times, it’s my internal moral compass telling me that I can’t keep my family waiting endlessly for dinner or for a movie.
There are forces equal to perseveration, and being an adult, I can choose to stop and shift my attention. I love spending time with my husband and daughter. I know that nothing lasts forever, that my daughter will soon be grown, that my husband and I are getting older, and that I’d better pay attention now, because one day, everything will be changed. Growing older provides perspective, and I am glad of that.
It’s the transition from one activity to another that is difficult for me. I even have difficulty saying good-bye to the day and going to sleep, no matter how tired I am. It’s my Aspie wiring. I can talk my way around it and adjust my life around it, but I can’t ever change it.
And why would I want to? As difficult as it is, it makes me who I am. And I’m enjoying who I am, more and more, with every passing day.
© 2009 by Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg