How do we know when to give a bit more, and when to pull back? There is an art in knowing when to push yourself and when to slow things down and invite in more ease. This art is a bit illusive to a Type A personality such as myself.
As I was out skiing the past weekend, I found myself feeling tired and sluggish. More effort was seemingly required to propel myself up and over the snow crusted ski trails. I found myself wanting to slow my pace – to be okay with a gentler session. But my mind suggested that I really shouldn’t; instead, my mind hinted, what I really needed was to push a bit harder, dig a bit deeper.
I find myself struggling with this internal battle often – this knowing when to rest and when to hustle. Do I tadd on a second workout in the afternoon? Or, do I opt instead for a light walk and some gentle stretching? Do I give myself 30 minutes at the end of a work day to lie down and read for a bit? Or, do I instead hop right into chores, preparing dinner and more work? Should I spend my Sunday getting “caught up” on coursework? Or, do I instead allow myself to spend a day wandering around some dirt path in the mountains?
I know that my ability to push beyond pain, to give a little bit more when I feel as though I have nothing left to give, is what made me such a great athlete. This drive has contributed to my academic success over the years. I am a woman who is always aspiring to reach the next level, and because of that my life is very full and rich. And yet, the constant momentum also is hard on my physical body, my mind and my spirits. My reserves can become depleted and I end up dragging myself through my days, my tasks, my hobbies with a sense of drudgery as opposed to real passion.
“Listen to your body”; “Rest when you need it” I hear so many people say. But how? I have a very difficult time distinguishing between my body and my mind – my needs and my wants. Is my body telling me it needs more rest, or is that simply my mind looking to give me an excuse? Is my body telling me to get up early and seize the day, or is my mind convincing me that I must constantly do more? What is it that I really need? The shoulds feel so loud.
I feel tired, but I am not sure where the tired stems from – is it because I need to do less? Or, am I not doing enough?
I am so programmed towards busyness and achievement. I imagine that many of us in American society are. I am accustomed to more being the solution given to so many problems. We live in a country of extremes. Yet, I am not sure where this compulsion for more, for extremes, is getting me.
The reason why most people won’t become who they want to be is because they’re too attached to who they’ve been.
I have always been a woman of productivity, and I am attached to this identity. I have spent many years believing that I am somehow not enough, but if I could just do that one thing, well then I’d be – I am attached to this belief.
I dream of being that woman who can spend an afternoon reading a book with no agenda; a woman who can acknowledge the dust collecting on the windowsill and yet, instead of picking up a rag, chooses instead to pick up some paintbrushes and a canvas and escape to the forest to create, knowing that the dust and the rag will still be there when she returns. I dream of being this woman.
Instead, when I sit down midday to read a book, my mind begins to race with all the more productive ways I could be using this time, all the things I have left to do before I have really earned this rest. The problem is, by the time I have earned the rest, the day is done and I am no longer left with time to simply sit and read as I’d hoped to do. Check off those to-do’s today, tomorrow you can rest. That tomorrow is illusive. There are always more to-do’s. The rest never arrives.
I am attached to who I’ve been. Yet, who I’ve been isn’t quite working for me anymore.
So how do I get closer to the woman I want to become? This woman who, in her rested state, radiates love, passion and joy for each day. This woman who feels so at home in her own skin, who knows with certainty that she is enough, who can hear her body when it speaks.
It requires practice, and, likely, some discomfort. It takes a period of quiet, a period of stripping down to the essentials – a temporary elimination of the noise and the excess. In that space of less, you begin to have a clearer idea of what you want to add back in and how to do it in a way that really feels meaningful.
At present, I am giving myself 10 minutes when I get home each day to just lie and breathe. I am indulging in Saturday mornings spent reading in bed. I am saying no to social obligations that leave me with no buffer in my day. It is uncomfortable and it feels foreign. It is also delicious. I am taking that as a good sign. After all, “What doesn’t challenge you, doesn’t change you”. And I want to see some change.
I don’t want an attachment to who I have been to keep me from becoming who I want to be. So little by little I am practicing releasing that old grip.
What about you? What attachments are holding you back? What can you do today – big or small – to challenge that attachment?
Just like flower petals fall to the earth every autumn, so too do we need to let parts of ourselves die and fall to the earth; with time, something new and beautiful will bloom.
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