At 8 years old I started burying my feelings. My dad’s disappearance into hospital and subsequence disappearance into death, left a hole that I filled, not with love but with busyness and bluster – and Hula Hoops. It was what my 8 year old self decided she could do, to keep it together for my mum and my three siblings and probably (not that my saviour complex would ever care to admit) for myself. Never.relinquish.control. Keep fighting and pushing and justifying my existence and all will be okay.
So ingrained became these patterns that my twenties were spent doing living, a thrashing haze of working and traveling and drinking and messing things up and feeling bad about my mistakes. Now I’ve spent my thirties doing undoing. Through therapy and self-help books and talking with earnest abandon, I had understood my issues. Or rather, my head had. My body continued to bear the burden of denial as I continued to fight and push and justify my existence – but this time in the crafty disguise of self-help and educating others. Do what I say, not what I do. Pot Kettle Black. In reality I had never taken the time to truly understand what I’d been learning; that the answers lie within all of us – or somewhere much bigger - if only we’d listen. That my lovely wise little self was stuck behind the battle armour – which I wore for the endless daily battles of my making. But sitting still and listening to myself – unless my critical voice (who I’ve recently named Sneering Simon who says ‘Who do you think you are?’), was not one of my many habits. Even as I'd proclaim my desire for calm and wax lyrical about the need for self-care and compassion, I'd berate myself for my failures and look for external answers and keep fighting and pushing and justifying my existence. When my coach suggested I sit on the edge of my bed for five minutes doing nothing, I had a visceral response somewhere in my gut. What a waste of time; I could be doing X, Y or Z.
Nope, wrong answer.
Being not doing is actually what's needed. Lean back, not in.
No need for comparison and judging, no need for relentless work hours and unachievable lists, no need for desperate people-pleasing and trying not to be found out. I am best as a friend, daughter, partner, teacher, coach, trainer when I am light and full of the joys of life, not just in spring.
So this Lent I am using all my coaching know-how about habit engineering to replace old habits: I’ve deleted my news app (typically the first few depressing minutes of the day) and replaced it with the ‘Calm’ app for morning meditation; I listen to comedy podcasts instead of the worthy self-help ones I’d been devouring; I’ve replaced the non-fiction pile next to my bed with tales of other worlds I can escape to whilst locked down in my urban flat; I’ve signed up for life drawing instead of academic webinars. But most importantly I dedicate 20 minutes every day to lying silently on my Suki mat and just being.
And after 40 days of wandering with myself in the desert, I hope to enjoy Easter a calm, grounded version of myself.
Who's going to join me?
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