Leaning Out - Six Weeks In

My last post was a celebration of my decision to work a new schedule: four days on, ten days off. It was also a send off for myself, into unknown territory. Like all of the big, life-enhancing changes I've made over the years, this one started with a leap of faith. I didn't know for sure if I would still make enough money to cover my bills. I didn't know if I would feel more creative, feel more rested, feel more centered (which is what I hoped). I just knew that what I had been doing wasn't working. I watched my beloved mentor, Robyn thrive in a slow-lane, work-less life. And I decided to join her.

The first two weeks I had off, I felt drawn to home projects - things that I'd put off, some for years. In 2006, I installed shelves in my closet, but didn't have the right tools. So the screws anchoring the shelves in place along one wall were never stable. It was one of those little things that gnawed - not a significant part of my day, but there, annoying, day after day. I fixed that.

I got a sewing machine, tired of hemming by hand, especially as my eyesight changes. Plus, I wanted to make my own COVID masks so the inner lining would be soft and comfy. I ordered anti-microbial fabric for the outer layer and the filtering inner layer. Then I cut up an old, cotton pillow case, washed a thousand times, and used that for the lining. I measured and adjusted for my face size and shape, then my husband's. We have masks now that are so much easier to wear.

I fretted in those two weeks, that I wasn't writing. I've had a book in mind for many years, self help, teaching others what I've learned about self care, what I share with my own clients. I was convinced I had undiagnosed ADD made worse with menopause. I wondered if a little Ritalin or Adderall might help me focus. I wondered if maybe it was time to let go of the idea of writing a book. Maybe it would feel better to stop struggling to get my thoughts onto the page.

Despite the fretting, I honored the promise I made to myself to spend my time off following where my heart led me. I napped. I played video games. I read. I watched British television. I didn't know at the time that I needed those first two weeks to tend to the house projects that had been pulling for my attention, resting and entertaining myself between painting and drilling and sanding. I needed two weeks not to think, but just do the kind of manual labor that leaves you sweaty and happy, because things actually get finished.

I needed time to stop thinking, planning, tracking, and responding to emails, phone calls, and texts. In the quiet that followed, I could see clearly how distracted and fragmented my time had become. No wonder it was hard to focus. I had been like a pinball, pinging from one bumper to another, all the dinging and ringing making it hard to think.

Just before my third stretch of ten days began, I had an online visit with a psychiatrist to help determine whether I really have ADD. My test results had been inconclusive. I might have a very mild case. Not enough to warrant the risk of taking medication. 

In our talk, he wanted to know why focus felt so important now after 56 years of managing life pretty well. I explained I have wanted to write a book about my work. I told him what I've been teaching clients about self love and how it is healing insecurity and anxious attachment wounds for my clients. He was very supportive. He said, "I hope you find I way to get it done. We need that book."

Sometimes, a little encouragement is all it takes. On my next day off, I sat down with Scrivener, a tool I had heard so many good things about - especially for people who need help getting their thoughts organized. I wrote an outline, and turned the headings into chapters. The next day I took all the writing I had done in the past - several beginnings without endings, and I put them in a folder to refer to and draw from. On the third day, I took out my calendar and calculated how many words I would need to write per day to finish a first draft in a year - 400 writing only on my days off. On day four, I wrote the introduction. Days 5-10 I wrote more than 400 words each day - sometimes 600, sometimes 1000. 

When I found myself going off on a tangent, I copied the meandering paragraphs into the "Notes" window, beside the main writing window. I had no worries about losing something important. It now had a home where I could find it later. And then I kept writing. I have never felt so focused before.

Each day I'm not seeing clients, I pick up wherever I left off. I've never been able to do this so consistently before. Scrivener is a big part of it. But bigger are these long blocks of time without interruption, knowing I have auto-responders on every form of communication, so I don't have to check compulsively to see if anyone needs me. I float along these slow moving rivers of time, writing, napping, exercising, cooking, gardening, cleaning, and not much else. 

I feel zero pressure to get anything done because there is plenty of time. I can sew until I finish making my new Ukulele case. Did I mention I got myself a Ukulele to help with some arthritis? No? Oh, well that happened too. 

I can write till my 400 or 1000 words are done. I can walk the neighborhood for an hour or longer when the air quality is good. Or I can pop on a 20-minute YouTube workout if I need to stay inside. I can nap every day - essential as the summer heat lingers into fall, and my hot flashes flare at night.

I don't feel like I have ADD now because there is time to sit with one thing until it is done or until I am at a good stopping point. On the days I see clients, I am utterly present for them. Nothing is pulling at me. I cook up a bunch of food on the Sunday before work starts, so I can grab lunch or snacks on my breaks. I have time to take care of myself in ways I didn't even know I needed before.

Today I checked my total word count in Scrivener, 14,684 words completed. I expect the first draft will be between 80,000 and 120,000, so I'm more than a tenth of the way in. And it feels easy so far.

I don't think I'm alone. I think most of us feel scattered and fragmented between the demands of work and family. I think we are so tired that when we have time off, all we can do is stare into a screen, reaching for the dopamine hit of likes and hearts or falling into the rabbit hole of the latest political shit show. I think we are tired and lonely for our very own company. I think we have become afraid to listen to our own thoughts, knowing we might find out just how exhausted and dissatisfied and utterly off track we feel. 

I know you may not have the same choices I have - to schedule your time as you might need to. Our society is not structured for the wellbeing of its members. We still live in a world of vasselage - working according to precepts developed to keep the coffers of kings and lords filled - though the kings and lords today are called CEO's and shareholders.

By living differently, I hope I am doing more than just taking care of my own self. I hope I am gently fomenting rebellion. It doesn't have to be so hard. We really don't need more stuff. We need more time, more connection, more kindness, more slowness.

Be gentle with yourselves, my loves.

Leaning Out - The Life Changing Magic of Working Less

Image courtesy of Pexels on Pixabay

We are immersed in a cultural belief that working hard is ethical, moral and good. A corollary is that having a lot of stuff, especially the newest, shiniest stuff, is also good. This is the mantra of capitalism. Work hard. Buy stuff. Then you will be happy.

I have never found this to be true. The shiniest stuff always loses its sheen. We call this “hedonic adaptation.” More is never enough. We keep chasing after happiness and security that only exist in some future that we never fully arrive at. 

This is good for corporations - people who sell stuff and their investors. We work hard - for THEM. They employ us to make and sell stuff, creating the illusion that we are lucky to be working at all. We produce and perform so that when our performance is reviewed every year or so, we may be blessed with a raise that, maybe, if we’re lucky, keeps up with inflation. 

We are exhausted from the hours of work and the anxiety of wondering if we are working hard enough or long enough. We compare ourselves to the coworker who arrives before 7am and stays till 7pm. Then we go home and seek solace on Amazon. We comfort ourselves with a new toy, a gadget for the kitchen, a bigger, better or faster version of something we already have that’s just fine. 

I used to do this with books. I kept shelves and shelves of books. I had been an English major. My books were part of my identity. I was a reader. I was intelligent. I read high-brow literature. I was special and interesting and good enough. Then I had to move seven times in two years. That cured me of my book habit. Turns out I was still special, interesting, and good enough.

In my forties, I had bought-in to the work long and hard ethic. I had worked my way through grad school and worked three different internships to get my MFT license as quickly as possible. I then learned all I could about marketing and began filling my practice. After a few years, I began teaching other therapists to market themselves. I taught classes at my local rec and parks. I began working with a programmer to create an online directory. I hired an intern to work for me. I was “on” all the time, attending networking events, planning my next meeting, session or class.

Then I broke, thank goodness.

I had been ignoring repetitive stress injuries for years. Now I could not ignore them. The pain was immobilizing. I had been stuffing down frustration and irritation when others didn’t meet my perfectionistic standards. Instead of easing my expectations or teaching others how I wanted things done and why, I just did everything myself. 

I let go of the intern. I let go of the directory. I stopped teaching. I stopped networking. I reduced my client hours. I did not lean in. I leaned out. And something amazing happened. I felt better. I aimed for 12 sessions a week, working Monday-Wednesday. I worked about 70% less, but my income only dropped about 10%, then quickly recovered as my skills and presence improved and I could charge more. I had been doing all that extra work for no reward. 

I focused on healing my body. I learned how to putter and meander. I felt my anxiety and drive to get things done gradually ebb as I settled into a slower lane. I could hear myself think again. I could feel my feelings. I could give myself rest and care that filled me up so well that I became a much better therapist, a better friend, and a better spouse. Ahhhh.

In the spring of 2020, I forgot those lessons for a while. As COVID shut down the economy, I lost some clients and reduced fees for others. I began working more again. And by June, I realized I was back in high-stress mode, cranky, frustrated, and suddenly craving junk food - my drug of choice and the thing I had used in the past to band-aid over distress instead of responding tenderly to it.

I planned a vacation, driving 6 hours to see my beloved sister and have some play time. Though it was wonderful, it was not enough. On the long drive home, I realized I had slipped into my old way of managing anxiety - working harder. It didn’t work then, and it wasn’t working now.

I decided to try something that my own therapist had done - shifting to an every-other-week work schedule. This week is my first week seeing clients from Monday to Thursday. Friday will begin a ten day stretch of time where I unplug from everything. I have auto-replies ready to go so clients know when I will be back to work. For ten days, twice each month, my time will be my own. I will be able to follow my inner compass, to nap when I am tired, eat when I am hungry, read or write when I feel inclined, take walks once the weather cools down.

I know I am privileged to be working for myself in a field where I can do this. I also know that we must, each of us, be the change we want to see in the world - to whatever degree that is possible. I used to think that living this way - slowly, inwardly - was just not an option. I had bought in to the notion that in order to survive I would have to go along with the cultural setup, work my 40+ hours, and find a way to be happy with a weekend off (in which there was laundry and shopping and cleaning to do). But each time I have taken the risk of rejecting these cultural norms, wonderful things happen. 

So I am leaping again, not just for my own wellbeing, but to walk my talk and model self care that is expansive and exquisite. I am choosing to have less stuff so I can have more time - time being something that we can never make more of. 

I am thrilled at the prospect of allowing my mind and body extended periods of rest and unstructured time to recharge my energy and creativity. Last week I just had a few clients - people I had not yet moved to the new schedule. Even so, the spaciousness of the week was magnificent. I read a lot. I napped. I puttered. I let go of rigidity about home-maintenance. 

There are projects to do and organizing that would make life easier. But with long stretches of time, I feel no pressure to get things done before my next commitment. Out of this ease comes a natural arising of desire to do or not do. Last week I was delighted to have spontaneous urges to write about my work, trusting that whatever came up would eventually be part of a book or a class - but not needing to know that or control it in advance. 

I trust that in the coming weeks, I will feel that same spontaneous pull to organize and clean, to work on the projects that need tending. I trust that rest itself and unstructured time are the fertile soil of these other pursuits. I have heard my beloved therapist describe how this is for her, and she has never steered me wrong. I have felt this on a smaller scale, when I first cut back to working three days a week. I am looking forward to seeing what unfolds from this new decision to do less.

We are in a time of change - forced change as the planet responds to our unbalanced work ethic - our bizarre drive to fill the air, the oceans and the landfills with ever more polluting stuff. I hope that in making this personal change for my own self care I inspire you to think about how you might do less and thrive. Time is the one commodity that is limited. To paraphrase Mary Oliver, what is it you want to do with your one wild and precious life?

The Life Sucking Tragedy of Too Much Access

Something miraculous happened while I was on vacation. After several days of using phone GPS to get around in our rental car, streaming music, and uploading photos to our social media accounts, we got a text from our carrier saying we were nearly out of data. Did we want to buy more? Text Yes or No.



As if we shared a brain, we both knew the answer would be No. And for the rest of the trip, we chilled the f@ck out. We stopped going everywhere and doing all the things. We went to the beach and swam. We took long walks at dusk. We ate leisurely meals. We read books. It was like vacation used to be - relaxing.


For about a year now, I've been having conversations with clients about how much we have to track now, from multiple different passwords to which texts and emails need a response, to the milestones and deadlines of work projects, to the likes and follows we give (or hope to receive) online, to managing our children's activities and assignments, to tending to our friends and romantic partners, to (especially if you are over, say, 45) tending our own bodies.

Are you exhausted reading that last paragraph? I just re-read it, and I am!

There is also another fear you may not be aware of. A great many of us have a fear of down time. Because if we really do unplug and breathe, we might feel. We might feel how exhausted and overwhelmed we are. We might feel that underlying discontent about something (or someone) that feels so scary to address.

All the busy-ness becomes a way we ignore or tune out from our emotional world - and the needs that our emotions are designed to signal. By tuning out, we may be abandoning ourselves emotionally. We may be unconsciously re-creating the emotional abandonment or neglect we felt as kids. Ouch.

If you are on the road to practicing Healthy Secure Adulting, it may be time for your inner parent to some set limits. Because this can be scary and painful, you might not want to dive into the deep end. I don't recommend two weeks of silent meditation as a first step. But maybe you can designate an hour or even 30 minutes one day a week to unplug and listen inward.

It may help to remind yourself that you don't have to do anything but listen. You don't have to fix anything. Your main mission, at least for now, is to keep yourself company while you feel how you feel. Nice company. Kind, friendly, compassionate company. Your inner critic is not needed for this task.

Notice how it feels to offer yourself company without any other agenda. If sadness, fear, pain or anger come up, practice breathing into them. Imagine putting an arm around yourself. See how it feels to just validate the feeling - "Given my history/circumstances, it makes so much sense I feel this way."

When you get in touch with your feelings, a soreness may linger for hours or days after. See if you can just let it happen. When you notice it, be that kind, supportive company for a moment or two. In this way, you may build tolerance for your own emotions and ease yourself out of the feeling-phobia endemic in our culture.

Gradually, over time, you may listen and just be with your feelings more often. As you do this, the abandonment/neglect end. Eventually, you may want to address the messages your feelings are sending - in gentle and kind ways.

It may just be that in limiting the access you have to tech (and the access tech gives the world to your time), you discover more opportunities to relax, to slow down, to enjoy the moment. That's good too. It's really good.

Need practical tools/ideas for reducing access?

• Filter all your email accounts through gmail to reduce spam.
• Take 10 minutes each week to unsubscribe from all the things.
• Set up an auto-responder on your email and an outgoing voicemail telling the world you are unplugged and will respond in X days. 
• Turn off your phone, all the way off!
• If anyone complains they can't reach you, practice saying, "I unplug from X day/time to X day/time every week. I will respond when I'm back online." People will adapt.
• Designate certain days or hours "screen free."
• Spend time outside if the weather permits and look at the world instead of a screen.
• Lay down with your eyes closed for ten minutes or more and just let your mind wander. If you wander into work thoughts, planning, or fixing, gently nudge yourself into something else. You might take the time to feel your feelings. Or you might fantasize about the perfect vacation, or meal, or who you would want to visit if you had a time machine.

We are not built to be "on" all the time. Down time is essential to restore our energy and creativity. Out of doing lots of nothing come some of the best ideas. Trust that doing less will create more richness in your relationship with yourself. And as you become more available to your own feelings and needs, your inner children will come to trust you (and like you) more and more.