I called my therapist, by which I mean a child’s therapist, on a Thursday. I told her that my brain had been feeling fuzzy. Fuzzy since the pandemic, maybe. Fuzzy since perimenopause, maybe. Fuzzy since I started a new job with a fuzzy org chart. The whole spring had been fuzzy with family grief, really, and now I wondered if I might have adult ADHD because I couldn’t find the main idea these days. And that was frustrating me. And did she have any strategies?
Can you tell me more about what fuzzy feels like first? she asked. Yes, I said, it feels like my head is a balloon and when it gets full, it wants to float. I float above conversations, after conversations, about conversations. I abdicate the conversation while it’s happening to assess whether I will have energy to get to the other side of the conversation. What is their main idea? Why is that detail necessary? And if they don’t get to the point now, I worry I won’t have anything left in my balloon for them later. It’s a fuzzy, frustrating, scarcity feeling, you see. And, ahem, how about a strategy?
Oh, that is a lot, she said. I feel tender toward you that you want to be tender toward others. Thank you, I said. Others are a lot. I recognize we have ten minutes remaining.
Yes, yes, yes, she affirmed.
So, what if your work is working less? she proposed. Like, what if your work is working less to analyze what’s going on and simply notice that it is going on. That you’re being hard on yourself. That then that makes you hard on other people. That perhaps what you need after one of these fuzzy interactions is not a strategy to manage what happened but rather a noticing that something did happen. And not everything that happens is your responsibility. Like, maybe that’s your responsibility. To stop feeling so responsible for it all.
Oh. Okay. Sure thing. But it’s funny, you see. Because, as she wisely pointed out, I’ve made a living of the examined life. As a writer. As a facilitator. As a spiritual person relentlessly committed to spiritual growth. I’m not a perfectionist, I like to say, I just care obsessively about integrity. But her invitation made me wonder about the acceptance on the other size of analysis. Not an unexamined life. But a less examined life. (Or the good art equivalent: a simplicity on the other side of complexity.) You know, so you can sleep and move and love and call enough on understanding.
Which is a very weird, non sequitur way of telling you that I’m taking a break (and suspending paid subscriptions) on this newsletter for a season. I don’t know for how long. Or why it seems so important. Only that I want to make less of a living examining and more of a life noticing.
To say to the fuzzy feeling and to me: yes, yes, yes.
XO,
Erin
Bravo, Erin, on offering yourself a break. May you benefit greatly from your time away from this newsletter.
Less analyzing; more noticing what feels good. Be well, Erin ❤️