We Find What We're Looking For

Lately, I've been feeling pretty stretched for time. This feels particularly unwelcome because I worked hard to architect my life for abundance and margin. Now, there are some excellent reasons I'm feeling especially tight on time: my daughter qualified for the US National Paraclimbing Team, which added an unexpected 4 weeks of international travel to the second half of the year. This is an amazing opportunity for all of us, and no amount of margin can gracefully absorb two multi-week international trips... so I'm trying to be kind to myself. But I'm still dissatisfied with this feeling of busyness. 

I think there's truth to my feelings, and I want to be sensitive to what my body is telling me. I miss having large chunks of time to putter at home, and I'm learning from these feelings and thinking about ways to nudge my schedule to create more spacious swaths of time. 

However, I also know we find what we're looking for, and we tend to believe the stories we tell ourselves. If I tell myself a story of overwhelm, I will be primed to find evidence that backs it up. And if I'm looking for occasions where I feel unpleasantly busy, well, those aren't hard for any of us to find. 

So today I decided to even out the story. Yes, this season is more stressful and demanding than I would like. Yet, over the past two weeks, I've ridden my bike more days than not; I got a massage; I played pickleball four times; and for the past week, I spent at least an hour outside every day but one. Those are not the stories of a "stressed out beyond all redemption" individual. Those are examples of plenty and abundance in my life, with space to enjoy my most important priorities. 

So, which story is true? The stressed-out one or the one with space and time for contentment? They're both true. Both stories teach me something. The problem comes when I overindex on one and forget that the other version is also true. The reality is that in this season, I am busier than I want to be long-term, and I have ample time for the things I enjoy most. 

The stories we tell ourselves are so powerful. We have a responsibility to use them wisely. What one-sided stories are you telling yourself? What's the other side of that story? Is it also true? If so, what would it take to integrate those stories into a both-and? Would that both-and story serve you better?

Big Shifts Usually Start with Little Steps

This week, I had the pleasure of recording an episode of the Portraits of Strength podcast with Harry Nukala. The episode will be out in a few weeks and I can't wait to share it with you. 

As we talked through the pivots and big choices that have shaped my life, Harry noticed a pattern: I identify a need, want, or gap, then experiment iteratively to fill it. Her observation holds true for me, and I suspect it does for most people. 

For example, many people I talk with are shocked that I "quit my career and moved into counseling and coaching." From the outside, the shift looks abrupt, rapid, and surprising. But from the inside, this shift came gradually, over years of experimentation. I wasn't fulfilled in my career, so I went through a process to identify what I wanted to focus on: I researched options, pivoted my corporate job, and began a program of study. My move into counseling and coaching happened over half a decade of iterative introspection and experimentation. 

In our world of highlight reels, it's easy to see another's path and think, "there's no way I could make a change that big." But whatever you're seeing probably didn't happen overnight. None of the big changes in my life - marriage, adoption, moving to Utah, facilitating orphanage service trips to Mexico, entering counseling - happened quickly. They were all the results of iterations of experiments and steps that eventually brought me to a radically different place from where I started. They're all big changes, and they all happened through many small steps and small choices. 

This means you, too, can create big change in your life. Big change doesn't have to be reckless, and it certainly doesn't have to be rapid. All it takes is identifying a gap or desire, getting curious, and running an experiment that creates a little movement. A few small changes may be enough to meet the need. Maybe your little experiments end up accruing to a big life change. Either way, you're architecting your life to fit you better. 

Know your Triggers

Last week I passed my six-month post-ACL-surgery checkup and am officially cleared to twist and pivot again! It might not sound like much, but after months of immobility and very limited mobility, knowing my body is pretty much back to normal and ready to stretch, bend, and move means a lot. 

That same week, I tweaked my back and found myself unable to stretch, bend, or move as I recovered. It wasn't "a big deal," and I was confident my back would recover, yet at the same time the injury profoundly affected me. I was thrown right back into the deep sadness of six months ago when the coping skills I had developed over the past years were all ripped away. I couldn't bike, walk well, or work out. I even had to be careful at yoga. I felt helpless and a little hopeless. 

As I walked (carefully) into my orthopedic surgeon's office, my brain finally connected these two experiences. My disproportionately sad response to tweaking my back made sense - it triggered memories of months of difficult recovery and some pretty depressed weeks, and I realized I was holding onto a lot of dread. 

Recognizing that this relatively small incident was triggering helped me recognize and normalize what could have felt like an overreaction. My body and mind weren't overreacting - they knew that being immobile like this was hard on me and were reacting reasonably to another round of hard feelings. Fortunately, I knew cognitively that this injury was very different than my knee and would have a very different recovery arc. And that took some of the edge off of the big feels. 

It's tricky to recognize your triggers, and oh so powerful when you do. Knowing your triggers gives context to your physical and emotional reactions, and it gives you something to work with beyond the vague feeling that you're spinning out.

What areas of life do you tend to "overreact" at? Can you detect if those "overreactions" are similar to a very difficult, scary, or life-altering situation you experienced in the past? What could it look like (working with a trained professional) to help you heal from that original difficult time, rather than simply managing your triggers and reactions? 

This is the work I love as a therapist - we can always heal. Sometimes it just takes a little similar injury for us to see the trigger and find its root.