It’s when you don’t trust that things are going to be OK that your mind goes in to over-drive, rehearsing various scenarios (very few of them favorable), and trying to figure out what to do next. That kicks off a downward spiral of shallow breathing that triggers your stress response, and nothing has changed except the thoughts in your head.
The four things below are alternatives to that all-too-familiar route of doubt, worry, and anxiety. I can’t promise these four things will exempt you from all worry, forever and ever, but using them in your moments of need will absolutely help you give yourself a different experience, and that’s how changes get made.
Look back on things that you fretted about in the past. How did they work out? You can apply the principles of hindsight to the future—it feels weird, kind of like writing with your non-dominant hand, but it’s the same skillset. And you will get better at it with practice.
Ask, “How might this be working out better than I am imagining?” As I mentioned, the mind tends to only think about how things could go wrong. Counter that with time spent pondering how things could go right. What we focus on grows. Read more…
(It’s kind of like exams for me at the moment—and honestly, I always loved exams. High stakes, short duration, plenty of high jinks mixed in with the hard work. I’ll be on the other side soon enough.)
Which has gotten me really focused on the idea of being focused, and how to pop into that zone more readily so that you can get a lot of good work done without depleting yourself in the process.
Here are some things I’ve unearthed on my own and through reading Deep Work, by Cal Newport, that have helped me carve out dedicated chunks of time for work that requires a lot of that.
Consolidate your schedule. Have calls first thing in the morning and just before the end of the day, but leave the heart of the day for the good stuff; including a lunch-time walk to clear your head and build a buffer between two multi-hour blocks of concentration. Read more…
After my son, Teddy, was born, I was trying to figure out how to be a mom to two kids and how to pivot in my career—it was the recession and I had been writing primarily for magazines for several years, when all my regular markets started closing. I was in freefall on multiple levels and really wanted—and needed—to focus both on my family and my work at the same time.
So what did I do? I listened to the conventional wisdom that says that you have to limit the number of things you’re trying to accomplish because you will not be able to do multiple things well. I figured I had to let something go, so I stopped any form of mind-body practice. I thought it would give me some extra time to either work or be with the kids and I would feel so much more productive and get so much more done.
What really happened is that I started needing some other way to take my edge off, so I turned to wine—two, sometimes three glasses a night. Which then interrupted my sleep, which then made me tired and cranky, which then had me reaching for carbs every afternoon for energy and comfort, which made me develop a spare tire, which made me crankier.
You can picture it, right?
Um, yeah, Kate, it’s called my LIFE.
I hear you. I really do. My work hours are feeling particularly finite at this stage in my life when the kids’ bus leaves at 8:15 and returns home at 4. I get coverage a couple afternoons a week and do often work an hour after they have gone to bed or on a weekend. But I have to think pretty carefully about taking new stuff on in regards to where in the week it will fit.
This is all a long way of saying that I don’t take the idea of telling you do something in addition to what you’re already doing lightly.
But there is a three-minute ritual I want to tell you about, because adopting it can make you so much more productive, focused, and less stressed. (Not a bad promise for three minutes, right?)
It’s a little thing I call “slowing down to speed up.” And you can do it with this three-minute check in:
There are lots of ways the resolutions I made about what kind of parent I was going to be have gradually faded away the longer I am a mother and the older my kids get. For example, where I was once devoted to 100% homemade meals, I now buy chicken nuggets and fruit strips. The kids have clamored long enough and I don’t want them to be the kids who never got anything that could be perceived as junk so they binge on it any chance they get. Also, you’ve got to love having stuff on hand that they rave about.
But one thing I’m sticking to for as long as I am physically able is no screens at the bus stop or on car drives. I want the kids to stare out the window and be bored, to let their mind wander and get random songs stuck in their head and daydream about all kinds of different things. When they say, “Mom, I’m bored!” I say, “Good!” Read more…
I’m writing this from the gymnastics gym while my daughter is in class. I had to bring my son with me today for a variety of reasons, and he is practically vibrating with impatience. He keeps asking how many more minutes and groaning and putting his head down when I tell him how much longer until we can leave and go home and get a snack.
I get how he feels. I have spent a pretty fair amount of time feeling just as impatient—and I didn’t have the excuse of being six years old. =)
Impatience can be motivating—if there’s something you’ve been tolerating too long, and it’s starting to bug you and give you ants in your pants, DEFINITELY, use it to get moving!
But in my experience, impatience is more often a hindrance than a help.
Impatience can be a sneaky way of trying to convince yourself that whatever you want isn’t available to you. Like, if it hasn’t happened yet it must mean there’s some reason why it’s never going to happen and so you may as well give up already. Or things are taking longer because there’s something wrong with you and so you start feeling sorry for myself. Read more…
I’m definitely a “half-full” person and believe, like Scarlett O’Hara and little orphan Annie, that tomorrow is another day. But sometimes you’ve got to let yourself admit that things aren’t that great so you can deal with what’s actually happening.
I got a reminder of this during the past two-and-a-half weeks, when we were all sick in my house. This is a photo of my daughter who spent four solid days either on the couch or in bed (and she has not been a napper since she turned 3). I believe we had the flu, and then for me and my husband, our flu settled into a whopper of a chest cold.
On that first day when I started to feel exhausted and achy, I said, “It’s just a 24-hour thing.”
On day two, I updated that to a “48-hour thing.”
On day three, I told myself, “This has got to be the last day.”
On day four, all I could muster was, “Zzzzz.”
As excited as I am about the impending arrival of the official start of spring, and despite the fact that my husband’s birthday is next week, March is my least favorite month of the year. There I said it. (Sorry honey. Except for your birthday.)
At this point I’m ready for short sleeves and bare ankles and it’s really still coat season here in Rhode Island, where I live. Also, it’s just not very pretty out right now. The snow has melted. The ground is muddy. The grass is brown. The trees are bare.
First world problems, I realize. But this time of year reminds me of something I talk about with my clients a lot, which is how sometimes, when you go about the important and loving work of raising your awareness—of your state of mind, your feelings, your life—sometimes what happens is that you look around and realize that you don’t like what you see. Kind of like the time when, suspecting that I was carrying more weight than my careful fluffing of my shirt and sucking in of my gut for photos might attest, I did yoga in my underwear in front of a full-length mirror.
This is our bird feeder that I attached to the window above our kitchen sink in an effort to stay connected to nature even in the midst of winter. We get cardinals and all kinds of other little birds I don’t know the names of and it’s a great way to add something special to the daily practice of loading and unloading the dishwasher.
Getting a dog who needs walking multiple times a day has also really helped keep that connection to the outside world going—so much so that for a few months there I never found the time to refill the birdfeeder.
I finally re-stocked the birdseed a few weeks ago and something I didn’t expect happened: the birds didn’t come back.
While I appreciated its aesthetics, for nine of those years I felt disappointed in this olive green topper. Why? Because I had it in my head that this was my raincoat. And as a raincoat, it kinda stinks.
For one thing, it doesn’t have a hood, so your head gets wet. It’s also short, so your thighs quickly get soaked. Most egregiously, it’s mildly water-resistant at best. Anything above a sprinkle and your upper body is wet.
Honestly, a garbage bag would have done a better job of keeping me dry!
You would think I would have figured out that this was really not an acceptable raincoat earlier. But I had it in my head that it was, in fact, a raincoat, and a cute one to boot. Plus, it rained so sporadically that I always forgot how annoyed I got while wearing it in the actual rain.
I honestly am not sure what triggered my epiphany, but sometime in my 45th year I developed the wisdom to be able to recognize that I was trying to force my jacket into playing the role of raincoat, and this wasn’t serving anyone—least of all me.