I wouldn’t call this a story as much as an essay on self-preservation.
At the turn of the new year, I resolved to take things a little easier, tamp down the anxiety, something I’ve carried like a heavy, leathered satchel of unease since childhood. I was tired and thought maybe in the face of immense pressure I could create change. I didn’t have a plan, I would just do it, during a raging virus variant and the onset of a sweeping and unsettling home renovation, I would will myself to be calm because I needed it so much.
Naturally, this shift invited chaos, as this is the way of the universe. Random and overreaching stressors dropped like asteroid showers, which will continue because these are the times we’re in. My salvation has been forgiveness of my own ignorance. You don’t know what you don’t know.
And that’s all I really want to say, which is that the path to peace may be cutting ourselves a little slack. I’m trying on self-compassion in light of my colossal failure to squelch anxiety and I have to tell you, this gentleness toward myself is a relief. I guess the best approach to the mayhem is to be open, listen to learn, and adapt as best we can. If things don’t work well, they just don’t, that’s all.
It makes sense not to be okay with what is happening in the world right now. We are not ourselves because each new day brings a fresh bouquet of crazy. It may help to honor the deeply cultivated, healthy responses within you that have loved you into being. (Yes, you are hearing Fred Rogers’ voice in this.) Be authentic, not what other people think you should be. Overhear yourself saying nice things about yourself. Quiet the unkind voices. I don’t like that I worry but I do like that I am anchored in empathy, so that is what I lean into these days. You might be brave or pragmatic or patient, so lead with those. It can only help.
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