A new approach to slowing down.
My therapist advised that times of change are good cues to slow down, suggesting that a slower pace will allow me to be more present in the change I'm experiencing. It is a time, she offers, to not add any additional concerns, tasks, projects, or endeavors, but rather to subtract what is not critical so that I may reserve my energy for the things that matter most. But it is a time, I counter, that speed feels inevitable and an easeful pace can feel lightyears away.
I am no stranger to the idea of slowing down, as I've long been pondering how to move slowly both as a way of being and a way to resist a world bent on speed. But pondering is one thing, doing is another.
If you've ever met an educator, you probably can attest to their constant state of busyness. When school is in they come and go, at meetings of every type, staying after school for whatever event, or churning out lesson plans by some obscure deadline. They exist in almost ceaseless movement, constantly in a rush with only a few breaks throughout the school year before they finally crash at the end of the school year. And perhaps even then, they'll sign up for summer school too.
I'm the child, granddaughter, niece, and sister of public school educators, having seen this and been a part of this state of perpetual movement my entire life. It is what I understood work to be, it is how I was introduced to the concept of commitment and integrity. I saw no rest, only rush. My life, via the work schedules of my family, moved in sports seasons and school semesters, even long after I graduated.
And now, in my adulthood, as I find myself graced with the opportunity to create my own relationship with time, work, obligation, and sacrifice, I am faced with the desire to slow down, to subtract, to embrace the power of less positioned against the familiarity of doing more, doing it all at the same time, and pushing myself to do it all at a level that I am proud of. While it is certainly an easy decision, it is hardly an easy practice, particularly when you have no model for it. But I am not in a position where I can rely on my excuses as a justification for doing what I know is unhelpful. I must embrace what I know to be true, even if it's difficult for me to implement.
For the fourth time since I graduated from undergrad, I'm starting a new full-time job tomorrow. While it was a welcome and exciting change, it was certainly unexpected, which made dealing with it that much more difficult. To make matters worse, in addition to experiencing the change of a new job, I happened to love my current job and coworkers and had to, for the first time since my layoff last year, grieve a job loss.
On top of this, I decided to run my first 10k in the middle of training for my first triathlon (spoiler, that was not a good idea. It's been a month and my training has yet to bounce back from that). I also chose to visit my sister in Los Angeles, host a birthday party for The Disco, sustain my relationships, build new ones, and support my community. I decided to pick up a new independent research topic (social infrastructure and urbanism) and have been pouring over books on that. I signed up to mentor an incoming freshman at a local HBCU. I decided now was the time to get more involved at my church and write not 1, but 2 pieces for a local art publication.
I added.
Even after I was given the clear instruction that this was the time to slow down, I, quite subconsciously, still found a way to do the most. I had a lot going on and though it's all things I am grateful for, it left me exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally and my output on all fronts was hindered. The Disco went without a new piece for a month, my sleep was wack for weeks, my training took a hit by not being able to walk the two days after the 10k and that race pushed my body to a point of desperate pleading for a break after 20 straight weeks of the most strenuous exercise routine I have ever done. I was spent and spread too thin in every way possible and in trying to find a way to do it all, I did none of it to the best of my ability.
So now, I must subtract.
My triathlon debut is exactly 14 days from the date of publishing. The beginning of the next stage in my career starts bright and early Monday morning. Those two things, the most demanding of my load at the moment, will require the most of me. They'll require me to be brave, strong, timely, focused, attentive, and positive. If I am to succeed at either of them, I must commit to pulling the reigns back in and more carefully assessing what I say yes to, how much of me it demands, and whether I truly can give it what it deserves.
I didn't want to subtract because I thought it would make me look like a punk. But what's worse than being a punk? Being a half-stepper. What Heatwave say in the third track of their debut album in 1977??? Ain't. No. Half-steppin! This means to me that if I’m going to commit to doing something, even if it’s less, then I should strive to do it to the best of my ability. Can't be a positive presence at a community member's pop-up if I'm tired, hungry, and irritable because I didn't take the time to nourish myself that day. Can't enjoy the book I'm reading if I'm trying to figure out when I’m going to get a run in. Can't do much deep work on anything if I'm constantly thinking of random smaller tasks that have absolutely nothing to do with what I'm trying to achieve at that moment.
So if I don't want to be a half-stepper (follow through, sustain a healthy balance of rest and effort, show up as the best Thalia of the moment), then I have got to step back, say no, and subtract. I’m still working through how exactly I’m going to do that, but what I know for sure is that I have got to slow down, not just to keep up, but just to be okay.
Slow down to stay well. Slow down to be present. Slow down to connect. Slow down to lean into the deeper, more patient, creative, and tender parts of yourself that can't be found when you're running around doing everything but what you really supposed to be doing in that moment.
Slow down to listen. You just might hear exactly what you need.
Thalia, 25, is on the brink of a new stage of her life and is going to need all the rest she can get.
