On Ylang-Ylang, Being Human, & Practicing Grace

I just got back from speaking at a retreat in Dallas. I was in Houston before that and Santa Barbara before that. Next week I’m speaking at a friend’s church locally, and then the next weekend, I’m speaking at Willow’s weekend services as a part of the Wiser series. The next week I’m hosting a baby shower for my sister-in-law, speaking at a Student Impact/Care Center event, and taking a quick trip to LA to speak at APU’s chapel. And right in the middle of that, I’ll get the Bread & Wine manuscript back for 10 days to make all the last changes that I’ve been waking up in the night thinking about for the last few weeks. I’ve got a handful of recipes that need to get re-worked, too, and a Halloween party to host, and a few other writing projects I’ve been neglecting.

And then about a month from now, our best friends will come to town with their kids for a visit, and we’ll drink champagne and stay up late and have breakfast at noon in our pajamas and talk about how their baby girl and our baby boy will definitely get married someday. And then we’ll leave on vacation for Thanksgiving with my family, a much-anticipated trip to our favorite little island—sunshine, swimming, lobster, rest. I CAN’T WAIT.

But between now and then: kind of bonkers. A busy calendar, but more than that, a lot to carry, mentally. A lot to think through, get right, get written, create and communicate. And I’m going into it a little fried from the last several weeks—quick to tears, waking up in the night, ragged and rough-edged.

So this morning I did what I almost never do: I put the work on hold, and asked myself what I need to live well through this season. What needs to be added to the calendar? What needs to be shifted? What choices will help me? What will only make things harder?

I wrote and wrote. I let myself be inefficient and messy, my thoughts jumbled and my desk a scrawl of assorted to-dos and ideas and recipe notes.  And I made a plan for this next month. I made an appointment with my therapist. I arranged childcare and sent some emails about upcoming events, deadlines, plans.

And then I closed my computer, and I got a massage, complete with candles and ylang-ylang essential oils for relaxation. This is SO not me. I work hard and play hard, but what I’m learning is that I don’t generally rest well at all. I don’t practice self-care almost at all. But my work hard/play hard plan has stopped working as of late, and I need to learn some new practices.

What I’m finding is that my impulse is always toward work, pushing, guilt, rushing. But what really helps—what restores me, what allows me to interact well with my family, what allows me to get good writing done—is almost always the opposite of that. I’m finding that when I go against my instinct to push, and when I practice things like rest, grace, peace, prayer, self-care and slowness, the work gets done just the same. Well, just the same except less crying and less apologizing to my family. I’ll take it.

What I think I need in a season like this:

Work

In these seasons, my first impulse is to put my head down and work, work, work, treating myself like a robot, a bad robot, in fact, for daring to be tired, daring to need anything. I get into this nutty mindset that insists that whatever other things I could be doing—visiting a therapist, sleeping, reading—must be put on hold until the war is over, because I am a solider.

Food

My second impulse is to eat like a truffle pig and drink like it’s my only solace. I push myself like I’m a college football player doing two-a-days, and then after all that pushing, I think that the only way to nurture and nourish myself is with mindless eating, because I can’t possibly be asked to do one more hard thing, like feed myself with health and kindness. I can only blast through the work and then flop down on the couch with cheese and red wine at the end of the day.

Control

Woe to the people who mess up my house in seasons like this, because my third impulse is to control whatever I can, when everything else is swirling. And what I can control, basically, is my countertops. And the people who mess up my house, of course, are the three people I live with, two of whom are little boys whose whole existence, basically, is messing stuff up. That’s how it should be. You’d think that when the pressure’s on, I’d relax about things like hanging up coats and putting away shoes. In some super-awesome twist-of-crazy, however, the more demands on my time and mental space, the more mental space I want to put toward neatness. It’s manic, completely.

Noise

When it’s go-time, I turn up the volume, literally and figuratively. I blast hip-hop in my car, I wipe away tears and take a deep breath and keep pushing. I become ravenous in my appetites—when I do have a free moment, I watch a show on tv while shopping online while flipping through a magazine, building a fortress of noise to keep out the sadness, the fear, the mess.

What I think I need: a big fat to-do list and a big fat club sandwich with sweet potato fries. Also a whistle so that I don’t even have to speak to those who dare leave their shoes in the entryway, and the stereo blasting non-stop, the volume turned up to 11.

What I really need, though, is pretty much the exact opposite:

Self-Care

Instead of working like a soldier or a robot, I’m learning to work like a human. Like a tender, loved human being person who needs rest, who needs downtime, who needs kindness and nurturing along the way. I need lots of breaks, lots of self-care, lots of space. This kind of stuff doesn’t come naturally to me. I’m good at work, and I’m good at fun/play/planning/hosting/keeping busybusybusy, but I’m not great at rest or self-care. But I did get that massage today. Baby steps?

Discipline

Instead of using food and drinks as desperate ways to backfill all the needs I’ve been neglecting, slamming through the days like a sledgehammer, and instead of eating whatever I want whenever I want because it’s simply too hard to impose any more structure in my already structured-to-the-max days, I’m learning that discipline and healthful choices set me free and get me through stressful seasons, instead of making them unbearable. When I feed myself healthy food, when I drink lots of water, when I take the time to eat well, it gives me more energy and more clear-mindedness.

Grace

Instead of control, grace. GraceGraceGrace. Grace for my tired self, grace for my kids, grace for my messy house. Instead of ratcheting up the control and the must-bes and the have-tos and the rules,  I’m learning to let things go—to let things be messy and undone, as long as the big stuff is getting done. I’m learning to focus my energy only on the things that will really help us this season—for example, groceries—instead of the things that I tend to fixate on—for example, shoes in the entryway. Again, baby steps.

Prayer & Therapy

Instead of cranking up the volume and frantically avoiding honesty at all costs, prayer and therapy. What prayer and therapy have in common is that they’re both about honesty, and they’re both about admitting need. I need help sifting through all my feelings and expectations and bruises. I need help and strength and a sense of God’s presence. And they both require action: I will make different choices. I will allow myself to be instructed by God’s spirit and voice and not my own fear and weakness. When the pressure’s on, my instinct is to abandon both prayer and therapy for a freer season down the road. But when do I need the grounding of both things more than in whirling, intense seasons like this one?

So this is what I know, and what’s guiding me through this season:

Instead of punishing myself with work, I’m practicing self-care.

Instead of being reckless about how I treat my body, I’m choosing discipline and health.

Instead of control, I’m dwelling in grace.

Instead of noise, I’m choosing prayer & therapy.

As ever, I learn the hard way. But I do learn, little by little, and that’s all we can ask of ourselves.

Talk to me about this--how have you walked this path in your own life?

Am I the only one who goes bonkers about clean countertops when things get a little stressful?

Am I the only one who thinks nachos solve (short-term) problems?

What ways of living get you through when the stress ratchets up?

What are some of your practices for taking care of yourself in the wildest or most intense seasons?