One of my favorite humans on this earth used to consistently tell me I needed to, "slow down." It would annoy me, quite honestly, because I didn't know how to slow down. I wasn't ready, yet, to slow down. He was trying to teach me a very important lesson, but instead of asking myself the question about why I felt annoyed, I took offense and created stories in my mind about what that suggestion meant about me rather than what it could mean to me.
Another dear friend gave me the gift you'll see in the photo of the "rock thing," as he referred to it. While he was on vacation one summer, he picked up some rocks, brought them back home, and created the rock thing. I told him how much it meant to me, and he said it was dumb and no big deal. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal to him, but it was and still is to me. He told me he thought it might be a good reminder when I saw it to have balance in my life.
I thought maybe the rock thing story had a place in the book, but when I tried to fit it in, to force it, it just didn't work. So, I copied what I had written and moved it to a separate document I keep with things I've written but haven't used yet.
I got rid of many material possessions when I moved out of my house last July, but I kept the rock thing. And not just that, the rock thing has been with me all along this book journey. I wondered more than once why I was lugging it around with me as the very last thing I needed was any additional weight to what I’ve had to carry in and out of multiple rental properties this past year. And yet, there was never any question that the rock thing was going wherever I went.
I had set a self-imposed deadline to be done with the book by April 30. Yesterday I was so exhausted from being awake 20 hours a day for 10 straight days that I could barely keep my eyes open and was physically feeling sick, but in a way that I couldn't actually pinpoint exactly what part of me was ill.
Earlier in the week my mom Sherri called, and I must have told her I was tired and worried about not meeting my own deadline even though the writing was going very well, and I was excited to finish. And she immediately said, "You know you can stay longer if you need to?" I said, "Yes, I told myself that, but I think I can do it." And then a voice from the past came in and started saying things like, "Doesn't she think I can do it?"
And all week, I continued to push myself beyond what was healthy and ended up where I was yesterday when it was hard to keep my thoughts together enough to make sense even as I was finishing yet another chapter. Last night when my eyes couldn't even focus well enough to read aloud which I do as a part of my proofing process, I had a feeling I had pushed too hard and told myself about 8 p.m., "Tonight, I will actually get some sleep." And yet, I pushed a little harder thinking, well I can't see well enough to read aloud, but maybe I can at least go back over the chapters to check for consistency in formatting, I might be able to see that.
At 9:13 p.m. the owner of the first condo I rented at Table Rock texted me because the person who was supposed to rent her condo in May backed out. She was upset for not making her at least pay a deposit because now it was going to be empty for a few weeks. She wanted to let me know it was available if I needed it.
Now back in early April, I almost asked her if it was booked in May because I thought if it happened to be available and remained that way, it would be a great back up plan if it looked like I might not finish by April 30. But I didn't ask because I wanted to be done and I figured I could just force myself to be done by that date. I could and would do whatever I HAD to do. So, I told her thank you for letting me know, but I was going to push hard through the weekend and thought I could be done on time and head back to Kansas City.
At midnight I finally had to give up on doing anything else because I didn't have the strength to sit upright anymore, and I couldn't slump down any further in the chair and still be able to see the monitors and type. So, I turned in much earlier than any other night and thought maybe my brain would let me sleep more than four hours since I was going to bed so early. I hadn't even been setting an alarm, it was like my brain knew how much was left to be done and that's all I could allow myself to rest before getting back to the computer in order to meet the deadline.
So right before I fell asleep, I sent an email to mom Sherri and asked what she thought, but since she had told me earlier in the week it really did seem obvious already. And then I prayed for direction to know what I was supposed to do.
For the past 10 days, my decision making had been driven all by fear. Before this final push, I had been feeling very good physically and mentally. I was exercising consistently, eating well, overall taking good care of myself. I had some healthy balance in my life.
Fear makes me do things that are not consistent with my heart and soul. I had written several chapters this week about that very topic, and yet here I was doing the same damn thing again. Because I'm human, no matter how much knowledge or experience I have obtained, there's always the chance that now and then I will make mistakes. And that's ok, that's just part of being human and why self-compassion is so critical.
Along my journey there were lessons I couldn't learn until I had learned all the other lessons that I needed to in order for that lesson to make complete sense to me. But the more time passed, the more I began to feel safer within myself to listen and learn all I could from others and my own hard-earned wisdom. And as a result, the lessons seemed to line up and fall into place even faster and easier.
Back then, I hadn't been open to really hearing what he was trying to tell me about slowing down and I didn't ask questions about what I didn't understand because I was scared to hear the answers. Instead, I made up my own self-defeating answers and missed the whole point. So here I am years later again having to be reminded to slow down, with a rock thing that has been staring me in the face this whole time.
And yet, I have learned. Last night I knew something wasn't right even when I wasn't exactly sure what it was, so I started asking myself hard questions. I didn't let fear win, I stopped, really thought about what I had been doing, and asked for help.
This morning, I woke up and wrote this to mom Sherri, "I got the answer...I need to stay. In the rush to finish by a self-imposed date, I was losing sight of the humans in front of me and one of those humans was me. I don't need permission to take care of me."
I then sent a text to the condo owner and told her I'd like to stay in her peaceful condo until mid-May and asked her to let me know how much money to send her for the rent. She said, "Oh wow! Fantastic! I have absolutely no idea. Just cover utilities and the HOA costs. Honestly, I feel better just knowing you'll be there. So much stress off my shoulders being mad at myself for trusting that lady. You know, losing sight of me."
And that is when the biggest epiphany came to me. Sometimes when we take care of ourselves, we inadvertently help take care of others. And that can change everything.
So, to my friend who gave me the rock thing, thank you for giving me the tangible reminder of balance in my life. I think after this lesson, I will see it even more clearly.
And to the one who suggested I slow down; I've learned to listen for true understanding and not to make assumptions but instead to ask hard questions even when I might be scared to hear the answers. Thank you for planting the seed, so at least I can hear now and slow down.
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