Grace Under Fire

beautiful girl, you can do hard things.

8 Tips to Slow Down Your Life from that Girl Who’s Really, Really Tired

Lately I’ve been pushing a lot of words about my battle with busyness at you. This is part three of a four-part series on the subject, so I promise it’s coming to an end soon and we’ll move on to a different topic. I didn’t plan on spending so much time reading and writing about this topic but the more that I do, the more I realize how issues like insecurity, avoidance, identity, perfection, fear of feeling, and coping are directly connected to our addiction to rushing, to chaos and to achievement. So it’s heavy on my heart to keep talking about the overwhelming-ness of it all; the chasing, the doing, the trying, the wanting, the reaching.

I hope you see it as an invitation for you to step into your own struggle as I come face-to-face with mine. Not only is it an open invitation to you, but it’s also an honest appeal for you to stand shoulder to shoulder with me as we make a life-changing, urgent decision: this is not the way we are going to live our lives any longer. Make that decision with me; that no longer, never again, not anymore will we allow society’s expectations, social media, or our pursuit of perfection dictate our schedules, commitments, self-worth or the way we live our lives. I know somewhere in your heart, you’ve already said yes to this invitation. I know because I’ve said yes to this invitation at least a thousand times. But when reality forces its way into our lives in the morning—usually in the form of work emails, text messages, kids or dogs, burnt toast, Monday’s newsfeed, and #wokeuplikethis hashtags—that once wholehearted yes quickly becomes a rain check.

But you know all of this already, don’t you? You get it: you weren’t meant to live life at a hundred miles an hour, spinning, spinning, spinning. So how do you make it stop or at the very least, slow down? In a world that’s screaming at you to be more, do more and have more, how do you stand up and say no more? I’d be lying if i told you that I had the answer to that because I don’t. But this is where I’m starting:

1. I’ve stopped glorifying “busy.”

Busyness does not equal success. Busyness does not equal happiness. Busyness is not a measure of success. Busyness is not a measure of happiness. Usually it’s actually quite the opposite, but I only know that now because I’ve recognized that when I feel the urge to “do”, it’s usually because I’m either feeling too much or not enough. And now that you know that, I can’t hide it in anymore.

2. I’ve identified the line between being a go-getter and a workaholic.

Here’s what I’ve discovered: if you feel guilt or shame when you’re not working, achieving, chasing, doing or accomplishing, you’ve crossed the line. If you can’t enjoy your life when you’re sitting still, or with friends, or doing nothing at all every once in a while, you’ve crossed the line.

3. I’ve recognized that I’m not alone in this.

A while back, I found myself wandering around a bookstore near my apartment, and before I knew it, I was sitting cross-legged on the floor paging through book after book written by real women struggling with the pressure of it all. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel alone in the chaos I created for myself. Best of all, these women gave me hope that on somewhere in the scattered messiness was a bridge back to the people and simple life that I had left behind.

Here are a few of the books I recommend:

Does it feel like the past and future are pressing in on both sides suffocating you and stealing your ability to stay present? Then you’re in this with me too and you’re not alone in this either.

4. I’ve learned what it means to “create a margin.”

Someone told me that it sounded like I needed to create a margin in my life. A margin sounded like just useless empty space to me, space that I couldn’t afford to give up without having to sacrifice something on my to-do list. I had it partially right. Creating a margin meant that I had to leave space for people, for inconvenience, for my plans to get interrupted, for re-direction and for rest. And yes, it required sacrifice. I wasn’t going to just find space. I had to create it.

5. I’ve made a “stop-doing” list.

I surrendered my to-do list in exchange for a list of things I needed to stop doing. The things that I needed to stop doing were the things that triggered restlessness, anxiousness and competitiveness. Social media was one of the first things that ended up on the list. Also on that list were things that were apt to steal my attention from the present. Texting during work hours also had to go on the stop-doing list.

6. I’ve surrounded myself with people who hold me accountable.

Like I’ve said in other posts, I’m a big believer in having a tribe of people you can count on. These people are not impressed when I rattle off all that I have to do or have done that day. These people don’t buy into my busy facade.

7. I’ve been practicing the word “no.”

This has been the most difficult for me. Somewhere along the way in life, I bought into the lie that if I didn’t say yes to people, they might not like me. I’ve told you this already, but I have built this identity as the girl you can count on. Responsible. Dependable. Flexible. Adaptable. And along the way, I started saying yes so much that it became my default response. Unfortunately the more I said yes to people, the more I had to say no to myself. No, you can’t sleep for eight hours. No, you don’t have time to read that book you just bought. No, you don’t need a day off of work. Now I’ve been working to change the equation and say no when it felt wrong to say yes. I’ve choked on the word a few times, but the more I practice, my no’s are becoming a familiar friend to me—one that is fiercely protective over my well-being and has my best interests at heart.

8. I’ve started listening to my body.

Your body is your most-honest asset. If you pay attention, your body is very transparent, unafraid and truthful about what it needs. And it’s important to remember that your body is on your side. Over time, I’ve been a terrible friend to my body; coaxing it do more, manipulating it into believing it doesn’t need much, degrading it when it begs for rest, treating it like a factory machine that outputs, outputs, outputs. In the end, I silenced my body’s voice, so much so that I often got a lot of wires crossed. I ate when I was tired. I worked out when I was hungry. I snapped at people that I wasn’t even upset at.

I’m re-learning this childlike friendship with my body. Too tired to work out? Let’s go for a walk instead. Hungry? Chips and guac is not a meal. Let’s make a real dinner. Feeling anxious? Let’s go for a run. Need to vent? Let’s go get half-off apps during happy hour and not punish ourselves for the spinach artichoke dip (okay, and the waffle fries). It’s a work in progress—sometimes it seems like my body and I are standing in opposite corners of the ring, both of us refusing to budge, but we’re learning to meet in the middle in this new give-and-take relationship we’re creating. It goes a little something like this…Body: You can’t fit in eight hours of sleep tonight? Fine, but promise me we’re not going to live on Colombian coffee from KwikTrip for the next three days. Me: You’re too tired to work out at 5:30 this morning? Okay, but we’re going to Kettleworks tonight, and yes, we’ll grab a protein bar on the way. 

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This hasn’t been a checklist process. It’s not one that goes in numerical or chronological order (those are the ones I like best). It’s been one of those trial and error, failure and success, ignoring and apologizing, try again and mess up again, one step forward, two steps back kind of things. But lately there have been more steps forward than backward, and this intentional, slow-and-steady, connected, deeper way of living is becoming more and more wrapped into my lifestyle, my character and my identity. It feels like a friend I’ve never met and yet known all my life—one that’s been waiting for me to turn around and introduce myself.