Balancing a ping pong table (another repost)
Or, the art of living impossibly, possibly
I’m reposting tonight because it is our anniversary today and my birthday tomorrow and I’m taking a minute…however I’m sure I’ll find a corner to curl up and write some more pretty soon. Meanwhile, I fully agree with everything I wrote here (back in April sometime), and furthermore, I am still really working on that pesky self-care.
This post is about 18 minutes to read, but has a sensory strategy in it that would best be done in a spare hour. It has to do with adjusting the sensory aspects of self-care tasks to be more manageable for your own unique needs, as explained to you by your body and your heart. Your head can then problem-solve. But the self-care is the important thing.
There. Now you don’t need to read this post!
Nourish…
“Yet such is oft the course of deeds that move the wheels of the world: small hands do them because they must, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings“With him, life was routine; without him, life was unbearable.”
― Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird“How much can a dragon carry?
As much as it thinks it can.”
― Anne McCaffrey, The White Dragon
Dare…
…to value the work you do at home.
We all have a home. Like turtles, we carry it around with us. We shelter in it, defend it, and scavenge for the resources we need to keep the “fires” going. I am talking about our inner homes, our centres of gravity, our balance fulcrums. We have a place we retreat to under duress, and which determines how far we are willing to shift in response to pressure, or even impending disaster.
Sometimes that point of inner balance and stability has been so small, for me, that it has felt like balancing a ping pong table on only one leg, and hoping the ball rolling around on the surface will stay put. I’m only recently figuring out how to widen my stance, give myself more ground, create multiple points of contact with the floor, as it were. “Home” is a concept that is allowing me to slowly add stabilizing forces instead of simply dealing with the awful weight of the people I love moving up and down and across, while I heroically try to hold them, keep them from falling off the edge, somehow. The lever actions! The sudden shifts and counterbalancing lunges I’ve tried to complete! It’s really kind of crazy, when I think about it.
I think, now, as a person who has learned a great deal from theory, theology, and thick life (I just could not resist the alliteration!), that none of that helps at all if I don’t have a home base to hold it all. I am not a library, or a ping pong table. I am a person, and balancing knowledge, or beliefs, or even action/reactions, is not my primary role. My primary role is to BE. Human. And that requires a strong, stable, centre, preferably not balanced on one leg.
And furthermore, the people I love are NOT ping pong balls. I am not holding them against some scary fall off the edge of…care. The stakes I have been working with are way too high.
(Lower the steaks, people!!)
So I am gradually figuring out that some of my favourite metaphors directing my day to day decision are deeply flawed. The ping pong table? Has to go. I don’t know when it appeared, but likely in early days of parenting as I was juggling the many new and continuing roles of my career, family, business, and animals, not to mention relationships, faith, and writing. So much to manage, and I didn’t want to let go of anything, and yet the energy I expended then felt so inefficient and so easily upended by actions or forces far from my very small base of support.
What was wrong with this picture? I know many of you reading are also juggling impossible and conflicting and moving demands. It just seems that putting myself in the role of table - the one holding all the balls, not in the air, but definitely off the floor - might have been a little much.
Co-regulation of small children, by which I mean using my internal, physiological, emotional and material resources to add support to a smaller, developing nervous system, is very important work. It is work, too. I am taking energy and sharing it, and much like balancing a table, if the one I’m helping moves suddenly while I’m offering support, things can topple. Fast.
I do think that looking after small children is a special case. They need this help, and some of them need it intensively, particularly during growth spurts, or transitional stages, or social maturation challenges. However, if the co-regulation is doing what it’s supposed to, if the help is helpful, in other words, these small children grow. They develop secure, resilient, and flexible skills because they’ve been supported enough, and been able to watch and learn and borrow a larger person’s skills and reservoir of emotional strength. So as a caregiver of rapidly growing little humans, the work you’re putting in is a deep investment in a future where you won’t need to be so available or so taxed, minute by minute.
This is very different from the situation of caregiving a person whose developmental trajectory is stalled, or unique, or stopping and starting erratically due to factors outside of anyone’s control, or nearing end of life. This challenge, or set of challenges, has no (happy) end point. In some cases, people we love can be in a flat, or downward trajectory - the opposite of growth. Our efforts to help at best will slow the decline some, but cannot completely prevent their suffering, or loss of independence, or even death, at all.
In this situation (a variant of which I am writing from), the idea of investing is hollow, and can even sound a bit mocking. I am not investing, nearly as much as I am plain giving. The payback, if any, for my efforts is possibly going to be invisible to me or to the person to whom I am giving care. Certainly it is not going to be in any obvious metric to society at large. Raising children is a public investment in our future that generally goes in predictably expensive ways, but ends with a launch of some sort, and a continuation of the pattern by my children parenting the next generation (and trying to do it better than it was done to them!). Caregiving someone who is not on this particular life path is a very different emotional, and financial, and social experience.
What this subtle but oh so important distinction has made clear to me is the necessity of self-care. The absolute crucial need for me to be thinking marathon, not sprint. The high, high priority I must in fact give to the small routines, and rituals, and practices that will preserve my equilibrium, no matter what forces are tugging, or energetically jumping, on my edges. I could get away with being a bit sloppy with myself during the early years of my kids’ lives (although I would hasten to say - not a good plan - don’t do it that way if you can help it!), but I can not get away with it now. I must tend my own spirit first. I must take care of my home if it is going to be of any use to me in hosting, even partially, the presence of another with oh so tricky needs for my help.
I am therefore engaged in twin pursuits of the regulation variety: working to support the nervous system of a person I love, and working to support the nervous system that is me. At the same time. Realizing more and more clearly that my needs MUST take precedence. If I want to have anything left over to help anyone else, I must have a tank that is mostly full, and is sloshing over. If I keep draining myself dry, the whole situation breaks down pretty fast.
My initial foundational concept: Balance requires a strong centre, is a statement I’ve been approaching from as many angles as possible in the last month of posting here. Today I’m contemplating the rituals that nourish me, so that I can dare, savour, rest, repeat. Ad infinitum.
My centre is replenished when:
I sleep about 8 hours a night
I eat when I’m hungry, and eat until I’m full
I remember to take in the love in the room, rather than just regulating myself through social situations
I write my Morning Pages (3 pages, longhand, first thing in the morning, no editing at all - Julia Cameron life hack) and get the “sludge out,” but also notice what shows up from my sleepy, less defended morning brain
I talk with my husband, rather than attempting to mind read, or to assume I know his intentions, or forget altogether how much he cares about how I am doing
I listen, really listen, to other people when they talk, and search for new and surprising (and therefore useful!) information, rather than waiting to get my own ideas across as soon as they’re done talking (much less useful)
I spend time conversing with animals every day
I remember to look up at the sky, rather than just at the ground
I play with words
I move my body with attention to my body
I take care whenever I am doing something requiring a sequence to consciously move my brain to a backseat and let my body be in charge (reduces accidental self-harm by quite a bit) no matter how slow this subjectively feels
I pray, but with my whole body, mind, and heart as part of the conversation
I prepare, rather than just “winging it”
I clean the house, as a practice for my own soul, rather than for anyone else’s approval or comfort
…there are probably lots more. Walks. Long conversations about ideas and values and the knotty problems of daily life with a decent person or two. Stories. Music. Making soup. You get the picture.
Lots of these rituals or practices have been impossible during crises. Some became unbearably difficult for a season. Some have been utter lifelines to sanity, to hope, or to the connection between me and those closest to me. However, slowly resuming, rebuilding, or reconnecting with self-care as a discipline that is essential to loving deeply, loving well, has been life-giving for me. I do feel that regularly refilling the well that my soul must drink from (to again use a metaphor from Jesus’ teaching and which is an echo of so many scriptural and other passages) is my first responsibility as an adult.
You may completely agree with everything I’ve just written, and even be saying, “Duh.” And if so, I salute you. I truly do. It is the most logical stacking of values for us people caring for others to ensure our own survival so we can continue, and even grow in strength and ability as we do so.
But I bet there are just as many of you reading who are agreeing in theory, and yet struggling (as I do, daily, hourly, and in all the possible ways) to actualize this theory. And that’s the thing, isn’t it? Saying something should be more important than __________ (whatever is urgently taking my attention right now) is not at all the same as successfully prioritizing it in that way. Those little practices seem so easy to skip once, twice, and then…there are so few gaps in the action to try to shove them back in!
And yeah, you can get away with it for a little while. But, like housekeeping, the little tasks that are undone come due eventually. Metaphorically, you wake up one morning to garbage that is overflowing, an empty fridge, no clean dishes, no clean clothes to wear, and a phone that needs charging, but you can’t find the charger. Metaphorically. Hopefully this doesn’t actually happen too often.
All the little tasks we do, simply to keep ourselves clean, orderly, less cluttered with tools or “stuff,” and feeling rested and well-nourished are much more important than their little mundane completions would suggest. Our inner homes, just like our more visible outer homes, and even the communities that are our neighbourhoods, places of work, and social gathering centres, must be maintained. Furthermore, this maintenance is NOT less important than any helping or hosting or healing task we engage in for those we love. This responsibility to care, to give care, to our selves, is crucial if we are going to be able to continue to care, as a gift, to others.
Dare to value the work you do, at home.
Savour…
…a just right challenge in one aspect of self care.
Self-care is, for sure, one of those activities that can seem too easy (and therefore easy to skip), or too hard (and therefore imperative to skip). Instead of berating yourself, or feeling that you must lack discipline or skill or an essential inner component of adulthood, try this. Try using the sliding scale of the Just Right Challenge on your self-care practices.
This can be fun, and give you unexpected ideas for adjusting tasks to suit you so much better. Here’s how it looks:
Sensory Strategy for making Self-Care a Just Right Challenge
Choose a self-care practice you struggle to complete regularly. This could be flossing, or meditation, or lifting weights, or phoning your Very Important Person who lives in another city. Doesn’t matter. Start with something you really do want to be doing more regularly than you are right now, though.
You are going to need post-it notes or small cards (two colours of notes or at least of ink will be helpful), and floor space that is at least 5’ x 5’ square. You can do this on a table, too, and just employ your upper body instead of your whole self. (You can even do it on one piece of paper, but I’m telling you, moving in space is powerful in terms of the emotional and somatic effect of the “conversation” with the parts of you.)
Start in the centre of an imaginary grid that is like a bingo card. You can move up two, down two, across two (in either direction). You can even go diagonally. You are starting in the centre - the Just Right Challenge box.
Your note cards are going to label where you are, and the effects of your movements, so have a pen and get ready to consult yourself for some “expert help.”
Now, fix in your mind that moving up or forward is how you will indicate the task is harder for your body to complete, while moving down or backward means the task is easier for your body to complete. Moving to the left is going to indicate decreasing the emotional intensity, while moving to the right is increasing the emotional intensity.
Choose 2-5 characteristics of the task that you can adjust. Here are some examples:
time of day
length of the task
location of the task and tools
comfort add-ons to make doing the task more pleasurable
rewards you will give yourself
Now you’re going to play hopscotch, sort of. Your “levers” are going to help your brain make sense of what your body (up/down direction) and your heart (left/right direction) are trying to tell you, by breaking the task down into concrete “how” questions. As a problem-solver, your brain excels at solving “how,” much more than “why” or “whether” questions!
Start with your first lever, and proceed through all of them with the following procedure:
How hard is it for your body to do the task in the time of day you currently have allotted (following my example of the first lever)? Move up two slots for very difficult, up one for moderately difficult. Move down two slots for very easy, down one for moderately easy.
Next, how intense is the emotional experience of doing the task in the time of day you currently have allotted? Move right two slots for extremely intense, one slot for moderately interesting. Move left two slots for extremely irrelevant, and move one slot left for moderately uninteresting.
Now, put a note with the lever’s name on it, in the spot where you are standing.
Now you have information for time of day, as you are doing it now. It may be too difficult to do in the morning, AND it may be too “boring” at the same time. You’re not likely going to succeed without adjusting the time of day, or perhaps some other parameters that can change the intensity or difficulty back to Just Right.
In your head, think about moving your lever. Can you change the time of day to the evening? What does that do to your location on your grid? Write a suggestion to yourself on another note (different colour note or ink) and place it where changing this lever would put you, on the body (up/down) and heart (left/right) axes.
Move on to the second “lever.” In my example, this is length of the time it takes to floss. First place, yourself where you are, subjectively, status quo. Let’s say flossing is seen by your body as subjectively easy because it’s a short task. However, maybe it’s also part of an intense emotional challenge because you’re not a morning person, and you’re generally trying to rush to get ready for work. So you are down two and over one to the right.
Again, try a thought experiment. Play with this lever a bit. Maybe the task could be split into two “chunks.” This would make it even shorter. However, that would make it even easier to “skip.” Based on your position, what you actually need is to change your task be a bit more difficult to get to the Just Right Challenge spot. What if you slowed down and flossed in a deliberately mindful way? What if you tried to floss while holding a “chair” position (semi squatting)?
Doing this would possibly create even more emotional stress, however. At least in the morning. But maybe if you were a mindful flosser, in the evening, it would be a more attractive challenge. It seems like your heart is already feeling a bit overwhelmed by your typical morning, but maybe in the evening you would even enjoy a minute of mindfulness.
Continue on with this process. For each lever, place yourself where you are now. Label that spot and the lever you are measuring. Then, try to move that lever up or down.
Add or subtract difficulty for your body to complete the task by experimenting with the physical parameters. You can reduce challenge by slowing down, giving yourself more help (visuals, better tools, preparation, safety, etc., depending on the task). You can add challenge by upping the technical benchmarks for success, combining tasks, adding speed constraints, or even taking away some tools and doing things in an intentionally more difficult way (think of cooking over an open fire vs. in a kitchen).
Next, think about increasing or decreasing the emotional intensity of the experience. Too intense = discomfort/pain. Not intense enough = boring/irrelevant. Adding intensity (in the case of flossing, this could be by using flavoured floss, using a waterpik or other less familiar tool, making faces at yourself in the mirror, or even using this time to listen to something funny or inspiring) may add enough interest to recruit your motivation. Conversely, if the sensation of flossing is uncomfortably intense already, you may need to reduce the sensory load by (again) trying different tools, compressing your gums first to “numb” them or at least desensitize them, playing calming music, white noise or nature sounds, or asking your dentist for alternative methods of gum care.
You now have a lot of notes telling you where you are, and hopefully a lot of ways you can adjust. Try setting up the task based on this information from your body (difficulty level) and your heart (emotional intensity), with your brain as the expert problem-solver! Your goal is to land as close to the centre of the grid - the Just Right Challenge spot - as you can. Try your self-care task out, using the ideas you came up with as a full internal “team.”
Rest…
You are already doing so much to take care of yourself, and your centre. This work is so valuable to you, and to the ones who rely on you for co-regulation, practical needs, and just your presence in their lives.
Whatever your current base of support, take a day to just notice all the many rituals and practices you are successfully doing. Count everything you possibly can! Do you…pick up your mail? Recycle? Gas up the car? Clean up the kitty litter? Shower? Fold laundry in any fashion whatsoever? Read for fun? Dress up occasionally? Enjoy someone else’s company without having to do anything special? Wipe the counters?
Once in a while, it is okay to notice the hundreds of daily, weekly, monthly or just habitual tasks we do to keep our homes as functional as they are. Sure, you could do better, more, or a smoother job of so much. But honestly! Look at what is happening and has happened! You are already a home base for yourself and so many others. Just flop down in the centre of your world and survey the good you are quietly, invisibly, but effectively, doing.
