I’m terrible at this practice that I see others nailing, and I’m shy to admit. Why? Because I can nod along to the validity of it. I could even write a prescription for someone else, if asked. I know it’s the right response. I know intellectually and yet, I can’t seem to manage it myself. But admittance is the first step, so here goes: I cannot take a day of rest, a couch day, a not-get-out-of-bed day, a Sabbath, not even a half-Sabbath. I can’t do it. And never mind a day for no good reason except that I’m a human worthy of rest. But I especially can’t when I’ve been running on pure adrenaline for weeks, when some might observe that I “deserve” it. And here is the truthier truth that I’m most reluctant to say: I like it. I like the pace and the purpose and the sense of priorities. But all the while, I want to be the person who understands that it’s a privilege to rest and does so without resistance.
I know why this is hard for me and it may not be what you think. Yes, patriarchy, yes, capitalism, those systems are definitely baked in. But the primary ingredient for my particular drive is recovery. And while recovery and the inability to rest may sound incongruent since the latter seems it would be essential to the former, please allow me to make my argument. If I stop to rest, I’ll be squandering my opportunity at the second shot that sobriety has afforded me. I got sober at age 45 and I’m making up for lost time. It will mean I’m not grateful for it. Rest triggers the binary thinking that I can zoom to when I’m stressed: if I’m not productive, then I may as well start drinking again. I know it makes no sense, but it’s the mental association that I have and can’t untangle. An intentional day of rest on the couch conjures the days resigned and hungover and intellectually I know they aren’t the same, but try telling my body.
With the self-deprecation out of the way, allow me to boast about how I’m otherwise the poster-girl for good recovery. I’m a stickler for keeping my morning rituals, which look a lot like leisure. I’m up at 5am, I’m reading, I’m meditating, I’m coffee-ing. I’m also good at the 6pm hard stop but that’s probably because menopause has rendered my brain useless for anything beyond a certain hour except a smart streaming series and cat videos. God forbid a kid or a spouse wants to have an important conversation. I can listen but there’s not much reciprocity. I stay in my lane. I don’t try to control the Universe or even my cat. I don’t have any advice, unless asked, only binders full of anecdotes. I’ve even practiced this on my children, to model solutions instead of telling them what to do. I have more questions than answers and I have my hand raised often. I sleep eight hours and wake up with no regrets. When I first got sober, I prayed that I would be changed. I’ve experienced that and more, I’ve transformed.
This wouldn’t be a boast post if I didn’t go through the list of all that production, some of which have zero photo documentation. For a photographer to say that a photo reduces a memory to a square would not be great for my career but being fully present with all of my senses to all the work I’ve been assigned the last five weeks is just another consequence of recovery. This reminds me of some of my most complex memories of which there is no tangible evidence: my horse Rosey, the sinkhole she slipped into in the thick of thunderstorm and the all-night barn vigil that she never galloped away from, the first and only time I floated my inflated, pregnant body in a cold pool in the middle of a fiery July, the time a one whole day old Chloe turned blue and the way my hands knew how to position and pat her back to breath. My sober presence is the only requirement to fully embody an experience.
To ensure the memories are fully installed, a good list doesn’t hurt either. In mostly chronological order, in the last several weeks I got back in my sewing studio and made a spring line from reuse textiles that was meant to be for a market (and was rained out). I photographed, measured and listed all of said inventory for my online market. I moved my Mother and (we’ll just call it) her collection of stuff (again). I was the guest speaker for a Sustainable Fashion Week, sponsored by the Fashion Merchandising Department at my alma mater. I attended the second gathering for the Enneagram and Spirituality cohort at Life and the Trinity Ministry in Dallas. I finished up all of the production meetings for a fashion show called Reuse on the Runway, as well as my own designs for the show and not to mention the other regular meetings and duties as a board member for Austin Creative Reuse, the nonprofit that hosted the show and fundraiser. The show was on Saturday and that was the finale to this season of activity. Sunday should have found me firmly implanted in the couch but I only managed a twenty minute nap. Baby steps.
I started this year desperately seeking to be changed, again. I had grown cynical from a string of endings and just plain bad luck. I don’t know if I could rightly say that my sobriety was challenged but I knew I needed to intentionally seek a shift in direction. Late to the party for perhaps some of you reading this but in the past month, I’ve listened to about 75% of what Barbara Brown Taylor has written and recorded. If you don’t know her, she’s probably slotted in the Christian genre, but I find her prose to be vast but inclusive enough for this regular human to feel utterly at home in her words. She says something over and over that fits in like a puzzle piece with my year so far: Seek the holy in every thing. This is a practice that I can manage and I’m grateful to have the language for it. It feels like I’m being rearranged. I don’t know what shape I’ll take come December, but I feel sturdier than I have in a long time.
How about a Zoom meetup for May? This month’s will be on Monday, May 20 at 10am CST. I’d love to hear what this season has brought for you. I’m including another downloadable PDF and in this one, I’m borrowing a prompt that I’ve used before with creative coaching clients. It is a writing prompt about accessing memories but if you don’t use it for writing, perhaps it can help if you are considering a transition and need to remember what brings you joy.
The downloadables and hangouts are for paid subscribers only and links are below the paywall. I hope to see you there!
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