Observations

Last night, I noticed that as of September, I had officially read more books already this year than in any other year of my life. This wasn’t a surprise, per se, since I’d set my goal of reading 100 at the beginning of the year and knew I was more or less on track to meet it. But the realization startled me in just how….anti-climactic it was. It barely registered! I had to consciously make myself aware of how cool it is that I’ve increased my baseline beyond what I thought I was capable of, and that I am easily meeting my new goal.

In previous years, it was always a push at the end of the year to make it to my goal of 75 books read by December 31st. I would always make it just by the skin of my teeth, by reading even more than I normally would over Christmas break. Sometimes I worried that I wouldn’t make it, despite having had such a good year of reading. But this year, I breezed past 75 in late September without even noticing, and am still going strong. What gives?!

What gives is that when you set your sights higher, your previous goals feel easier. When you increase your baseline expectations, what once felt monumental is now just a stepping stone on your path to bigger & better things. The old goal which once felt next to impossible becomes the new normal, old news, nothing to write home about. We look forward to the next goal, and the next, constantly pushing ourselves to improve.

I think it’s a very beautiful human tendency, this desire to grow and evolve. But I think it’s important to intentionally take moments to recognize and honour yourself when you notice that you’re more effortlessly achieving things that were once hard for you. I can’t think of a better way to acknowledge your own personal development than to have a moment of respect for when you surpass your previous years’ income by August, or find it’s no big deal to get on stage for a big talk that used to terrify you, or see that you’re flossing your teeth each night without even thinking about it.

It might be hard to recognize these improvements, since they so quickly become our new normal, but I hope we can all take a moment to celebrate ourselves when we discover them.

And if something feels hard right now, just remember: one day, this will be my new normal. 

I’m in the middle of reading Marie Forleo’s new book Everything is Figureoutable, and last night this line popped out at me: take small steps, avoid big drama. She writes, “Perfectionism loves drama. You’ll start to notice that even before you’ve taken any steps toward fulfilling a dream, perfectionism will chime in with endless, berating questions. Is my business idea even any good? How will I get it going? What if I fail? What if I SUCCEED?”

In my work with clients, I see this kind of perfectionism drama 👏🏼 ALL 👏🏼 THE 👏🏻 TIME. Drama seems like a judgemental word, and that’s not how I see my clients – it’s not like they’re trying to stir shit up or be dramatic!! Heck, I myself go through this perfectionism drama all the time. But the drama is real, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen a dark cloud of existential angst crop up right before someone is about to make a breakthrough. 

Austin Kleon has a great phrase: “Don’t think too much after dinnertime,” which I’ve always mentally translated to “no existential thoughts after dinnertime.” It’s a wise rule, because it reminds us that there are better times to worry than others, that daylight helps us solve problems, that we are less effective when we’re tired.

I like that Marie is saying something similar when it comes to projects. If I could paraphrase this idea for me, I’d say: don’t think too much after deciding. Once you’ve chosen your path, thought through all the pros and cons, and made your decision, stop re-evaluating the idea. Stop questioning it. Stop tearing your hair out. Just commit to taking small steps, tiny steps, baby steps, every single day.

As she writes, “Real change is practically invisible as it’s happening. Meaningful progress doesn’t feel particularly exciting.” But small steps and small drama are the only ways to make things happen. Keep your drama smaller than your steps, and you’ll be fine.

Writing this sentence is me getting back on the horse. I’ve been off of it long enough for the resistance to rear its ugly head again: to make me ask myself whether this habit is worth it, to question my routine, to try to make up some excuse about why I can’t write today either.

I’m getting better at telling the difference between a legitimate excuse for why I need to skip a day of my good habits and that sneaky force known as resistance. Resistance is a very different felt sensation in my body. Resistance is emotional, whereas legitimate reasons are matter-of-fact.

When I woke up yesterday morning after a night full of puking and nausea, I knew it would be all I could do to get dressed and out the door for my group session. That wasn’t resistance, out to get me. That was self-preservation. Choosing to skip my writing practice yesterday was a form of self-care.

On the other hand, resistance feels like whining. Resistance is a yucky sensation in my gut, or a blasé, laissez-faire attitude that I rarely actually feel deeply. It tries to act breezy and careless. It’s slick and sly and tries to convince me that I don’t care anyways (which is rarely true). It makes me think standing up to go rearrange my bookshelf in the middle of writing a post is a good idea. When I catch myself experiencing it, it makes me feel like this emoji: 😬😬😬.

By now I’ve learned that the only effective way to quash resistance is to do the work anyways. Sadly for us overthinking types, we can’t think or justify our way out of resistance and still get the results we want. The only way out is through. So here I am, getting back on this horse, and resistance has been vanquished for another day. Even better: tomorrow will be easier, because I showed up today. 

The next few days will be busy, but busy with wonderful things. Two of my friends are getting married to each other, and it’s set to be a big, beautiful celebration with their loved ones. I’m the maid of honour, which means speeches and photos and curling my hair (which I learned to do yesterday, thank you very much!), not to mention dancing and celebrating and socializing.

I’m excited, and I also know that it’s going to be intense. So as much as I love bookmark habits, I’m also giving myself full permission to only do what I can, within reason. Self-care is so valuable, but I’m learning it also needs to be flexible, not rigid. I need to know my limits and give myself grace during times when it would feel like a burden, not a gift, to go through the motions of all my daily habits. 

For example: this daily writing! I won’t be doing it for the next three days. I can choose to feel badly about that, or I can know and respect my limits. Amy Young, who taught me the concept of the “Sacred Six” daily self-care habits, talks a lot about how this practice has so much to teach us about how to care for ourselves.

Yes, doing these daily habits is a way to be kind to ourselves and practice showing up for ourselves. But she also talks about how it’s an opportunity to practice self-care and self-compassion with ourselves when we AREN’T able to do our habits in a day. Do we beat ourselves up? Feel guilty? Say mean things to ourselves?

We could do that, or we could acknowledge the hard parts with kindness and love. Remind ourselves that perfection isn’t the goal. Practice that unconditional positive regard, even if we haven’t exercised all week or eaten a green vegetable in two days. More of the latter, please!

So my goal is to know my limits and to be kind to myself when I reach them. Instead of bullying myself about my inability to do all the things, all the time, I can be gentle. Make exceptions. Skip the things I don’t have energy for. Because sometimes, dropping things is a form of self-care.