Several years ago I was driving to my office in WDC. It was one of those mornings where everything seemed to be a challenge. There were accidents, roadblocks, tons of traffic and the commute was tense. I was becoming increasingly stressed as my ETA grew later and later.
Once in the city, the roads were congested. It seemed like every turn I made I forced me to go in a direction that was away from where I needed to be. I noticed an increased police presence and lots of sirens as I got closer to my building.
As my frustration grew my physiology started running away with me. My body felt tense, my heart was racing and my blood pressure soaring. I was determined to get there. Not because I had a specific client or internal meeting, or any exact reason for being there. It was just a regular work day with a start time getting pushed later and later.
At some point I started to cry. I had no idea where the tears were coming from but before long I was in a full out crying fit that I couldn’t control. I was overwhelmed, completely frustrated and finally succumbed to the obvious fact that I couldn’t get anywhere near where I (thought I) needed to be, and I pointed my vehicle in the fastest direction back out of the city.
As I drove North sobbing and trying to catch my breath, I had some pretty good narratives brewing in my story-telling brain as I spoke to myself:
“You know you should have taken the metro, don’t you ever learn? Who can’t get to work on time? You’re setting a terrible example for your team. In fact maybe you should not even have a team if you can’t use better judgment and get to work on time…”
On and on with self-flagellation my mind continued, until I was back up in the general vicinity of my home, and another office location we had near by. I guess I was probably planning to set up at the local office and run my day from there. But I couldn’t go in. My face was red and puffy, I felt absolutely exhausted and drained. The word “vacant” best describes my state in that moment. I sat in the parking lot and pondered what to do.
Although a new approach for me, I remembered reading something somewhere about the process of self-inquiry. I’d heard about the value of getting curious about our reactions to things. For a moment, I stopped judging myself and feeling completely useless, and asked this simple, compassionate question:
“What do I need right now?”
Answers quickly emerged:
“Food. I need a hot meal. I need to go back to bed. I need to take the day off.”
I drove to a local diner and ate an omelette. I literally remember sobbing as I ate, trying to conceal the tears as they kept streaming out of the corners of my eyes. I felt so alone and completely unseen. I let my boss know I couldn’t work that day, and went home and slept. When I was able to get past the self-incrimination, I actually got some much needed rest.
When I woke up calm and quietly, it dawned on me that is was September and the date was nearing the anniversary of my Daughter dying. I attributed my mini-breakdown to grief I was resisting. And I wasn’t wrong. As I often say, I have to handle my grief or it will handle me.
But there was more at play here. I was more than a mom with a broken heart. I was woman who was not taking care of herself. I was a robot on rote routine and schedule. I had no self-compassion. The reason I felt alone and unseen, is that I was not seeing myself.
As I have continued down this path of self-inquiry for many years now, I have noticed my habit of not living in my body. I have had so many responsibilities, and in the short term found the best way to meet them all was simply to dissociate from myself and my activities. I always thought eventually I would get to sit down, eat, and rest and I would just keep moving forward until that day, week, month or year came.
On that particular Tuesday that I had to re-route myself from a “work” day to a “self-care” day, I was learning about self-inquiry. Sleep for me didn’t come until I was completely paralyzed. I remember wanting to drive off of the highway, thinking something along the lines of how much sleep I could get if admitted to the hospital.
This may all seem a bit extreme and maybe even exaggerated. But it is not. I operated on auto-pilot for years and the only times I was forced to acknowledge the dangers of this lifestyle were when I would fall apart. Unfortunately I developed a high tolerance for stress, so the breakdowns were rare and I would say I was a late bloomer when it came to self-care.
One of the kindest things we can do for ourselves, is to ask the question: “What do I need?” And ideally this should be a daily inquiry, not one saved up for times of disaster. Since that fateful day many years ago I can confidently say I have implemented this as a habitual practice.
Now that I see myself (instead of acting like I don’t exist but for fulfillment of the needs of those around me) I feel seen. Now that I acknowledge that I have needs and work to meet them, I don’t have to wait until I am so stressed that I want to drive off the road, or have to cry through an omelette, before knowing that I matter. Now that I see myself, I feel seen in general.
I don’t “white knuckle” my way through days, weeks and months at a time, holding on for dear life that one of these days I will get to take care of myself. On the contrary, I have spent time figuring out what my needs actually are, and meeting them first, before caring for others which is possible most days.
Next time you feel off kilter, distracted, antsy or ill-at-ease, try to pause and ask yourself: “What do I need?” You may not like the answers, but we are the only ones who can respond honestly to ourselves. When the answers come, we need to act on them, and not wait until the levy breaks before showing up for ourselves, at least as fully as we do for those around us. And sprinkling in a little extra TLC for ourselves is even better.