​Let's talk about something that affects all of us, but is seldom talked about:  friendships ending.

I met up with an old friend a few weeks ago. She wanted to share her heartbreak. Pain from friendships changed. 

We all have friendships that have faded, that have ended dramatically, or sometimes halted without words or explanation. No friendship follows a specific story line and there is no guarantee that it will last.

It’s jarring when we lose someone we care about. A future planned out, that will never actually happen. The grief and confusion may cause us to wonder why we invest in friendships at all.

As a person who studies relationships, I think it’s the connection between humans that sustains us. The shared time with another person reminds us of why we’re here. It’s the mutual laughter and space held for us during dark periods of our lives. Even though there may be anger and loss at some point in the story, friendship is worth it.

I recently read, “Talking With Strangers,” by Malcom Gladwell. He writes about how we’re often terrible at spotting a liar. However, he makes a compelling argument that our species would suffer if we opted to be suspicious of others rather than open. He writes, “Those occasions when our trusting nature gets violated are tragic. But the alternative - to abandon trust as a defense against predation and deception - is worse“.

The loss of a friendship can take us down. It can make us wonder if we’ll ever trust again. Losing a treasured relationship can plunge us into the abyss. We might doubt ourselves. Question our words and replay every conversation. We can easily spend hours trying to understand.

Whenever something difficult happens, I always think I’ll feel better if I can just understand why. We’re meaning making people. We like to take fragments of information and compile whole stories. We think a beginning, middle, and end will soothe our anxious minds.

It doesn’t work.

It’s not understanding that we need, it’s acceptance. Whatever happened; happened. We can’t go back and change it. There’s nothing to fix. So much of our lives can be repaired through doing, but this part is more about being.

I’ve heard forgiveness being described as, “Accepting that the past could not have gone differently.” This idea has often aided in my healing. When I can let my mind rest, my heart can begin to restore.

With acceptance I can begin to hold the story a little lighter. I can remember the wholeness of the person and the relationship. No person is all-good or all-bad and neither is the story.

When I no longer push against what happened and the break, I can let love back in. I can tend to my heart and my body. Letting my wisdom show me what has been gained and what can be released.

How do we let go? Slowly. Healing can be a long journey. We need to feel what’s there and take our time. The winding road will eventually lead us back to ourselves. Acceptance is when peace returns.

If your heart is breaking and trying to understand why, trust that it will not always be this way. The midnight hour doesn’t last forever. The break is just one small part of your whole story. (And no matter how it ended, it was probably worth it).

With Love & Backbone,

Jen 

​
It’s 2022 and I’m about to send a newsletter out to the Nice Girl Uprising community about burnout.  As I was editing the newsletter, a blog that I had written in the Spring of 2021 popped up.  I remembered that I had poured my heart into it then my laptop refused to connect to my printer.  The devices had stopped communicating and it was just too much for me to handle.  Instead of fixing it I took a nap on the couch in the middle of the afternoon.  Sleeping…in the afternoon.  Guess what the blog was about?  Yep:  burnout.

It makes me want to laugh-cry that almost one year later, burnout is still impacting me.  But of course it is, right?  How could we possibly be okay after making it through these impossible times?  I read through my words from 2021 and they’re still true.  So here it is:  let’s talk about burnout.
​

​
I’ve been waiting to say the right thing.  To have learned all of the good lessons and condense them down into something quick and memorable.  2021, however, has been a long year and it’s only May.  About a month ago, I realized something was wrong.  I was so tired.  Tired, tired.  For the first time in a long time I was having to motivate myself.  Mini pep-talks to get through life.  Basic things like work, little league baseball games, and dates with friends.

My energy was so low, I had to cup it with both hands so the flame wouldn’t burn out.  Then I realized:  I was, indeed, entering burnout.

So what is burnout?  Jill Lepore from The New Yorker describes it like this, “To be burned out is to be used up, like a battery so depleted that it can’t be recharged.  In people, unlike batteries, it is said to produce the defining symptoms of ‘burnout syndrome’: exhaustion, cynicism, and loss of efficacy.”  Though burnout has historically been used to describe a response to workplace stress, it can be argued that burnout can be caused by other stressors too.  Oh I’ll argue it, in fact.  If you took care of anything in 2020 may it be a child, a dog, or a houseplant, you’re probably burned out.

2020 was a beast.  We learned to live with uncertainty, constant changes, political divisiveness, fear and confusion about a virus, worked from home, became our kids’ teachers, and had severely limited social support.  It was exhausting.  My professional self would like to use the word “challenging” to sum it up, but I’m going to go ahead and call the year “grueling”.

In the book, “Burnt Out:  The Exhasuted Person’s Six-Step Guide to Thriving in a Fast-Paced World,” Selina Barker lists the following symptoms of burnout:

• Physical exhaustion
• Trouble sleeping
• Loss of compassion
• Stopped caring about your job
• Physical illness
• Making mistakes you wouldn’t normally make
• Loss of confidence
• Fogginess
• Loss of focus
• Doubting your abilities
• Cynicism
• Procrastination
• Pessimism
• Crying
• Inability to concentrate
• Feeling unable to cope

The author differentiates full-blown burnout from a mini burnout (which I had) by the number and severity of symptoms and the amount of time it would take to recover.  Full-blown burnout may keep you out of normal life functioning for several weeks whereas a mini-burnout could last a few days.  When I noticed this started happening for me, I had to ask two very important questions.  The first question was, “How do I differentiate burnout from depression?”  This is a tricky question to answer because burnout can co-occur with depression and depression can look a lot like burnout.  I think we need to look at our schedules, the triggers to our symptoms, and consult a mental health professional to gain clarity.  I realized that I was over-doing for too long.  I pushed hard and kept adding more to my plate.  The extra busy-ness began to feel normal.  I felt like I had the capacity for more.  More was normal.  Comfortably uncomfortable.

The second question I had was, “With all of this self-care how in the world am I burned out?”  The quick answer:  NO FREE TIME.  I’m a self-care doer and be-er.  I love my self-care.  I say NO, I gua sha my face, I drink half of my body weight in ounces of water, I go on walks, I meditate, I read, I workout, I spend time with my family, I have coffee with good friends.  I do the things.  Every day.  I tell other people to do the things.  I’m self-care’s biggest fan.

But 2020 reduced our orbit.  Some of us worked from home.  We didn’t go out as much.  We saw our extended friends and family less.  The commute from work to home, teaching to making, cleaning to the next activity was short.  We sort of just changed our hat and carried on without missing a beat.  But we missed something really important:  connecting with ourselves.  We tune-in through free time.  Time that is unscheduled and open.  Time that we can use playing the guitar, watching Netflix, or swinging in the hammock with the sole purpose of connecting with ourselves.  Free time.  Time to do whatever we please.  We don’t really have that anymore.

So I had to make it.

I had to set the brake.  I made an agreement with myself to limit my work hours and caseload.  I made the commitment and told others about it.  Accountability is what I needed when the asks re-entered my world.

I had to say NO (a lot).  If I found something to be too energetically taxing, I said no.  If I had to squeeze the thing in or if it would cause me to rush, I said no.  If the thing activated my anxiety or caused a sense of dread, it was a no.  No, no, no.  The duty of yes got me here so the love of no was going to help me get out.

Then I had to move beyond self-care.  I needed free time.  I started putting space in my day.  I attempted to relax when the schedule didn’t call for a plan.  I tried to be slower when I spoke, when I transitioned from one thing to the next, when I made decisions.  Burnout is rushed and exhausted.  Freedom is slow and full.  I want freedom.

Why am I sharing my experience of burnout with you?  Because I want to give a name to the experience that so many of us are having.  I want to normalize it, validate it, and help you move through it.  If you connect with any of the symptoms of burnout, I encourage you to learn more about it.  Find articles, read books, contact a coach or a therapist.  Most importantly, connect with yourself and choose the path of healing that feels right for you.
​
You might be experiencing burnout and that’s okay.  You can make shifts in your life that will bring you peace.  Trust me, there’s so much less to do.

I was fighting against it.  For a long time I pushed in opposition to the water.  It took a year for me to realize that I was the water.
 
Two years ago some things in my life were upended.  Things that I had come to know and depend on were no more.  I strove to understand.  Picked up each grain of sand to ask, “Is this it?  The reason?  Tell me why?”  There was so much sand to sort through.
 
It was similar to feeling my way through the dark in an endless midnight hour.  The answers would not come.  I was alone.  Alone and drowning in the dark.
 
Have you been to this place before? 
If you’ve ever loved someone; I bet you have.
 
When we’re trying to stay afloat, we pretend that we’re swimming.  Possibly, it looks like treading water but it feels like drowning.  Deep panic.  Dark water.  No sign of the shore.
 
After I stopped collecting grains of sand, some of my breath returned.  My heart didn’t race all the time.  Instead of slapping the water, I opened my fingers and let the water glide through them.
 
Eventually, I saw other swimmers.  They would wave and ask about the water.  I thought they had just arrived to my part of the sea.  But they hadn’t.  They’d been there the whole time.  I hadn’t noticed them.  Maybe I saw glimpses of life, but it was easier to believe I was all alone.
 
When I finally chose to get close to these swimmers they told me that I had forgotten some very important things:
 

1. I was loved.  Well loved.  And I was never alone.
2. We are that which we seek.

 
Deep.  Heavy.  I know.
 
When we’re at the bottom of the sea, we feel alone.  It’s too dark to even see our own hands, let alone the hand of a friend reaching out to us.  This loneliness makes us afraid.  It also makes us angry.  We are never our best selves when we’re angry and afraid.  Those states of being add to the darkness.
 
We have to stay there at the bottom for a while.  It’s part of the process.  But slowly, very slowly, we start to ascend.  The light will sometimes seem like hope itself.  Promising.  New.  Other times we will wonder if the light is playing tricks on us.
 
That’s when we start to catch glimpses of the swimmers.  They can’t swim for us.  No, the work is our own.  But our friends can remind us to hold our breath, to open our palms, to trust our hearts.
 
Last year a friend advised me to, “Flow like water.”  I loved those words.  They guided me.  Reminded me of the way when I felt like things were too hard.
 
When we’re fighting the water we tire easily.
The fatigue drives into our bones.
The struggle never ends.
 
I was seeking forgiveness, acceptance, understanding, and love.  I was fighting for those things.  Tiring myself out in search of them.  I hadn’t realized that to receive them I had to become them.
 
I had to embrace forgiveness.  I had to accept myself, the people who had hurt me, the hurt I had caused, the entire situation as it was.  Instead of trying so hard to be understood, I offered understanding.  Then love, oh love.  The love had always been there.  It had never left.
 
I was trying to get to this place by moving against the water.  Pressing hard.  Determined.  I am not easily deterred.
 
To my benefit, the other swimmers reminded me of the truth.  My faith whispered these essential words, “You are the water.”
 
I am that which I seek.
I receive that which I offer.
 
When our practices become our beliefs we can embrace who we really are.  We’re not droplets in the sea.  We’re not the bad weather.  We’re the water.  We’re the water that wraps around islands to keep them safe.  We’re the tidal wave of emotion.  We’re the rough storm swirling about.  We’re the calm sea lapping against the shore.  We’re all of it.
 
If it’s part of us then we can understand it.  Accept it.  Offer it.
 
Today I offer my love and forgiveness. 
It’s a part of me.  It’s a part of you.
We can receive what we offer.
 
On this Easter Sunday, I want you to remember that you are the water.  Yes, it’s all of you.
 
Flow like water, Baby.
 
With Love & Backbone,
 
Jen

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​On their own new things are really hard.  We’re beginners trying to master the new thing.  When it’s just one thing it can be overwhelming.  COVID-19 is like that grinning captain that calls, “Hey everybody!  How about we change everything all at once?  Like right now.  Good luck!”
 
When I was in second grade I came home crying one day.  My mom was puzzled.  What had happened?  I wasn’t being bullied.  Nope.  I hadn’t fallen down and gotten hurt.  I wasn’t homesick.

​Through tears, I told my mom, “We learned how to tell time today.  We were using the face clocks.  I’m upset because I didn’t already KNOW how to tell time by myself!”
 
My mom cocked her head and did one of those slow blinks.  “So you expected to KNOW how to do something before your teacher taught it to you?”
 
I don’t know why this idea was a big deal.  I like to know things.  Certainty wants us to be the best at everything.  What do you mean I need to be new at something before I can master it?
 
What a concept.
 
Maybe some of you are chuckling because you’re built like that, too.  I have a friend who opted to turn down a job, because her daughter was starting preschool.  She said, “We just can’t do two new things at once.  We can adjust to one new thing at a time.  Both of us trying hard things at the same time wouldn’t be good.”
 
We can see these parts of ourselves when we think about sharing our creative work or joining a gym.  Something as small as showing up to a small group or going to a party where we know just one person. 
 
It’s vulnerability.
 
Vulnerability is grueling.  It offers a mixed-message right off the bat:  Come try this new thing.  It could be a disaster or it could be the best thing in your life.  You have to try to know, though.
 
The mighty shield I like to use against vulnerability is perfectionism.  If I can study and prepare really well then I’ll have outsmarted most disasters.  This also makes way for tension, irritability, and black-and-white thinking.  We love that quality in our friends, right?  Ugh!  It’s not our best look, but we use perfectionism to protect ourselves from vulnerability.  It doesn’t work though.  Why?  Because control is an illusion.  COVID-19 snapped its fingers at our hyper-busy over-controlled lives and made us beginners again.
 
We’re uncomfortable.
Very uncomfortable.
Uncomfortable, uncomfortable, uncomfortable, and possibly freaking out.
(You’re allowed to freak out).
 
I’m a therapist by day and also a coach.  My therapy clients usually sit across from me in my office surrounded by soft blue walls, an essential oil diffuser that offers hints of peppermint + wild orange, and look out over the Arroyo Grande Creek to watch birds flit by as they talk.  It’s lovely.
 
Now I’m also a homeschool mom.  Overnight.  Today my son had his first school-connected online google meeting for his class.  Do you know what it’s like to teach a bunch of house-bound 4th graders?  Let’s say a little prayer of gratitude for our children’s teachers and coaches.  For the love.  I wanted to mute the entire thing!
 
But now there’s all of these new things.  New things for them to access.  New ways for them to connect with their teachers.  I was getting stressed out.  Why?  Because I wanted to know all of the things…like yesterday.  I wanted it to be smooth.  I wanted my kids to learn and to be happy.  I’m setting the bar too high, I think.
 
Because I’m also working from home.  Which means that sometimes I do telehealth in my car to keep confidentiality.  We 100% cannot change or perfect that.  It is what it is.
 
It’s new and it’s hard.
 It’s a new way of living.  A new way of working.  A new way of learning.  All new.  All right now.
 
I figure I have a few options:
 

1. I can do nothing (freeze).
2. I can make this $%&#@ thing work perfectly.
3. I can try easy.

 
Do nothing or do everything (options 1 & 2):
 
In her audiobook, Rising Strong as a Spiritual Practice, Brené Brown talks about underfunctioners and overfunctioners.  In times of crisis underfunctioners freeze and disappear.  They get overwhelmed and shut down.  They stop showing up to things.  They allow other people to step in and take over.  They just can’t deal.
 
Overfunctioners go into hyper drive.  They take on too much and control the to-do list themselves.  They have a hard time delegating, because they think if they can do it themselves then it will be done right.  No one knows that they are having a hard time.  It’s like they have capes on, but they’re shut off from their feelings.  If they stay busy fixing the problem then they won’t have to acknowledge how the crisis is making them feel.
 
Neither way is good or bad.  However, both options are ways to avoid vulnerability.  When we under or over function we’re trying to outmaneuver pain.  We don’t want to feel it so with either hide from it or attempt to fix it.  In both ways, our people can’t reach us.  We’re too well defended.  The layers of each keep people out.
 
Try easy (option 3):
 
When I say “try easy” most people think I want them to slack off.  The perfectionists look at me like I have two heads.  I can feel the resistance telling me, “I can’t try easy.  I have to get it right!  The only way to get through this is to try my very best which means I have to try hard!”  Well, I know you well enough by now to know that you aren’t a slacker.  You won’t give up.  You won’t give 50% effort ever.  For anything.  I know that.
 
Don’t change your work ethic, just change your attitude.
 

​​I’m here today, because I want to remind you of who you are.  Normally, I drop in every month, but these are some overwhelming times.  To me, it seems like we’re getting new information every few hours.  Plans are changing.  We’re being called to pay attention.  We’re being asked to look out and look within all at once.
 
You are here.  Right now.  Reading this.  I’m here with you.  Take a slow breath.
 
A few days ago, I could feel this mounting tension.  Questions swirled in my brain.  I was trying to understand.  Trying to plan ahead.
 
On Friday we found out that schools would be closed.  I’ve been figuring out what this means for my therapy practice and childcare.  I’d been working really hard to force it all into place.
 
Maybe you have been feeling that way, too?  Here’s a thought that helped me:
 
“This situation isn’t happening to me.  These are just facts.  I can choose my perspective.”

 
So this is what I’ve done:
 

1.  I am creating a peaceful environment in my own home.
 
Even though the outside world is uncertain right now, I want my home to be a sanctuary.  I want my family to feel safe, and loved, and cared for.  I want them to learn how to handle hard things with softness. 
 
I’m doing this by diffusing essential oils.  Playing relaxing music.  Making time to snuggle and watch movies.
 
Living in close quarters we’re prioritizing, “Excuse me.  Good job.  I love you.”  We’re talking about having grace and patience and kindness for the next few weeks.
 

2. I’m prioritizing self-care.
 
This weekend my home was filled with the scent of homemade bone broth, chicken noodle soup, and citrus smoothies.  I want to feel healthy during this time of fear.  In crisis our numbing behaviors come knocking (overuse of social media, consuming excessive sugar, drinking too much, etc.).  Numbing behaviors make us feel defeated and depleted.  I choose to feel empowered so I’m taking in positivity instead.
 
I want my nervous system to calm down.  Stress levels are so high in all of us.  We can think more clearly when we’re calm.  For me that means rolling out my yoga mat and tuning in.  After my practice today, I felt like, “Oh hey, there you are, Love.  Let’s spread this goodness around.”

​If yoga is your thing or you’d like to start, here’s my advice:  try easy. 

• Check out yoga classes on YouTube. 
• Download the app “Down Dog Yoga” since it’s customizable and free until April 1st (I tried it out this weekend and absolutely loved it). 
• Look into Spiritual Heart Yoga with Krissy Harb (me fellow yoga sister that I met in yoga teacher training) and purchase a drop-in, 5 or 10 class pack to participate in her new online classes. 
• Or sink into this calming & soothing restorative yoga sequence created by my dear friend, Lisa Story (also met this lovely soul in teacher training as well!).

 

3. I’m choosing where I place my energy and how I respond.
 
This might be the hardest thing so far.  I have adopted the idea that this situation is not happening to me.  This situation is happening and I can choose how I handle it.  This means that I’m not diving deep into social media and letting fear take over.  Nope.  I’m being mindful about what I read and how long I spend on the topic.  Sometimes too much information is too much.
 
I’m focusing my energy on being present.  I’m putting lots of love into my family.  I’m using this time to slow down.  Time is our greatest gift.  I want to use it well. 
 
When my kids look back at this time, I want them to remember how safe and connected they felt.  I don’t want their stomachs to drop every time someone mentions COVID-19 in the future.  As the mama, I’m my family’s thermostat.  I stay grounded so that they feel grounded.  In order to do this I have to be mindful of my energy.  I have to be careful to respond and not react.  I have to be slow and soft.
 
 
This situation is really hard.  We’re not sure when things will be okay again.  But I believe and know that YOU WILL BE OKAY.  You were made to handle hard things.  You were built to lead.  Be what you need right now so that you can be what your family needs.
 
Starting now:

1. Deep breath.
2. Add some love into your space.
3. Plan your self-care for the day.
4. Decide where and how you’ll spend your time.
5. Try easy with every step.

 

But why?  Well…we get out of alignment when shame is all up in our faces.
 
Here’s what happens: 

• Someone sets a boundary and we feel like we’re wrong
• Someone doesn’t choose us and we feel left out
• Someone is doing something really well and we feel like we’ll never measure up

 
That’s shame’s game.  Shame will get under your skin and tell you that you’re not good enough.  It will pulse through your body and make you believe that you don’t belong.
 
Shame never wants us to be our best.  It invites us to be our worst selves.  Shame will flare our jealousy, our pain, our doubts.  Shame pokes at our insecurities until they take over.  Fear will spike.  Everything will get too loud.
 
We’ll want to put the problem way over there away from us.  So sometimes…we’re mean.
 
Here’s shame at work: 

• If you hurt me, then I hurt you back
• If you take space from me, then I ignore you
• If you succeed, then I throw shade

 
Yep, it’s ugly.  But we’ve all done it.
 
When we live in a space where compassion, and questions, and love don’t come first then we make way for shame to dominate.  How do we make sure it comes first?  We DO THE WORK.
 
I probably say the phrase, “Do the work” at least once a week.  I mean it.  I live by it.
 
What does “do the work” mean?  It means you ask questions.  You look at your own behavior.  Maybe you go to therapy.  Get coaching.  Reach out to people that know you well.  Ask yourself, “What did I miss?  What can I learn from this?  How can this help me grow?”
 
Mean is not our default, but it’s a cheap and easy option.  Are we cheap and easy?  Um…NO.  Absolutely not.  So we do the work.
 
Doing the work is hard.  The answers might not be easy to accept.
 
A long while ago, I took a problem I was having in another friendship to one of my dear friends.  After a decade and a half of friendship this friend has earned the right to tell me straight.  No fluff.  She told me what I had missed.  She pointed out what I could avoid repeating in the future.  She helped connect the mean dots.  To be clear, I didn’t necessarily enjoy hearing the truth.  However, I want to grow and that’s the price. 
 
Ask hard questions.
Get solid answers.
Grow.
 
The alternative is far harder to live through.  When we go the cheap and easy route we become stagnant, or worse, we devolve.  In relationships this means that we’ll assume the worst about others.  We’ll blame them.  We’ll ignore them.  We’ll say hurtful things.  When people do well we’ll let our insecurities control our perspective.  We’ll feel jealous.  We’ll roll our eyes.  We’ll make fun of them.  We’ll be mean.
 
Mean is lonely.  It feels terrible.  It lies.
 
If you believe the mean things are true it’s like inviting an ill-tempered dragon to live with you.  You’ll burn through your relationships, your dreams, your self-esteem.  Mean will invade your thoughts and change the way you see the world.  Mean will eat your compassion away piece by piece.
 
Don’t be mean.
Instead, do the work.
​

​Let’s jump into a normal day in our lives.  We’re doing one thing while thinking about another thing and scrolling through our social media accounts at the same time.  Our attention is constantly being pulled in different directions.  We’re sort of being dragged through our days in a way that makes everything seem like it needs urgent attention.  Look at me right now, Mom!  Answer that text immediately!  Keep mulling over that weird conversation that you had yesterday.  Do all the things NOW!
 
Yikes!  I’m stressed out just by typing all of that out.  If you’re feeling overwhelmed regularly stay with me here.  We need to look at why we’re so stressed out.
 
Our culture has become quite immediate.  Is your boss looking for you?  She can get to you through a simple text and you can respond within minutes.  Is your partner wanting to know where you’re at?  They just locate you on Find My Friends and boom you’re close enough to the grocery store to grab a dinner ingredient.  Is your friend upset?  Well you better contact her like yesterday to sort it out.  People need you to get with the program, Girl!  So get on it or maybe don’t.
 
Busy has literally reprogrammed our brains.  How many of you get a little jolt when your phone buzzes?  I do.  It’s like I have to see who messaged me…it could be important.  What if it’s the kids’ school?  Maybe it’s an important reminder.  Maybe it’s just noise.  I don’t know.  What I do know is that my anxiety peaks until I set my eyes on my phone. 
​ 

​An article in the Washington Post by Brigid Schulte reads, “Somewhere around the end of the 20th century, busyness became not just a way of life but a badge of honor.  And life, sociologists say, became an exhausting everydayathon.  People now tell pollsters that they’re too busy to register to vote, too busy to date, to make friends outside the office, to take a vacation, to sleep, to have sex.”  Oh geez, we’ve lost our joy.
 
We are social creatures so we’re often watching what everyone else is doing.  When everyone else is running from thing to thing and scanning their phones during their downtime it seems normal.  We’re now confusing relaxing and self-care with numbing out.  When we reach for something outside of us to quiet our inner life then we’re numbing.  We do this by overworking, drinking, online shopping, and checking-out through social media. 
 
You might be thinking, “What’s the difference between numbing and self-care?  I look forward to sipping my glass of wine while I check up on my Instagram friends.”  Okay, maybe you do look forward to it.  I wonder what your intention is around your routine?  Are you looking to connect?  Are you able to stay present with your own feelings and the events of your day?  If that’s the case then maybe it could be a version of self-care.  But I wonder if your thought is, “Today has been so hard!  I can’t wait to pour that glass of wine and zone out.  It’s my me-time.”  If that’s the case then it’s probably numbing.
 
Self-care is the process of going inward to nurture yourself.  It’s consciously slowing down to soothe our systems and acknowledge what’s happening in our lives.  When I enter the world of “too busy” my self-care seems incredibly hard.  Meditate for 10 minutes?  Sure!  (Then I open my eyes every minute to see if I’m done yet).  Sit outside in silence?  Great.  (Followed by needing to look at my phone to check that thing or searching for a book or starting the laundry).  Can you relate?  Doing is the default.  Being is both the sweet spot and the challenge. 
 

Though my body sometimes resists slowing down, I always receive the greatest benefits when I fold into the practice.  I can’t tell you how many times an amazing idea has come to me after a yoga class.  I tend to write blog posts and record podcasts on days that I have no structured schedule to follow.  Freedom in my day often leads to increased creativity and openness. 
 
Not to mention that I’m softer and kinder when I slow down.  Let’s face it, being busy is not our best look.  Frazzled entries and departures, distracted conversations, and half-in relationships are not creating our best lives.  Not even close.
 
So maybe you’re wondering how to get un-busy?  Maybe you’ve slowed down and you don’t like the feelings that live there.  Yes, it’s hard.  But you don’t have to do it perfectly, Love.  You can set your own pace in this process of slowing down.
 
Here are some ideas for you to try:

• Put your phone to bed.  Yes, seriously.  Give it a bedtime.  9 p.m. lights out.  We need time to let our brains prepare for beauty sleep.

 

• Plan for 10 minutes of nothing.  Hmmmhmmm.  Nothing.  Just you sitting and breathing.  Notice what your eyes see.  Listen with your ears.  Do nothing but breathe.  How do you feel?

 

• When you’re driving see what it’s like to turn off the music/podcast and simply drive.  Pay attention to where your mind goes and what starts to bubble up for you.  Stay with it.

 

• After dinner go outside and look around.  What color is the sky?  What is around you?  Enjoy it.

 
 Now I want to come to my final point:  our relationships.  How does busy affect our people?  The other night I was trying to create a post for Nice Girl Uprising on Instagram.  I wanted to get the words just right.  It was sucking all of my attention.  My daughter came along and she was all smiles.  She wanted to sing songs to me that she had learned in school.  I was totally listening while just doing ONE MORE THING on my phone.  Ugh!  I feel sad just writing that out, but it’s true.  One of my very favorite people was trying to connect with me and I was distracted.  I was too busy.
 
We can say it was just that one time, but the truth is that it happens more than we’d like to admit.  We’re busy and we’re distracted.  Connecting with other people is nearly impossible when we can’t be fully present.  I sometimes wonder why we’re living our lives for the people way out there that we can’t see on social media and texts and phone calls.  How did those people and activities win out over the very people in our own homes?
 
Life is already too short, Girls.  A life well-lived is defined by memories with our favorite people.  We remember the moments that require our attention and energy.  If we’re only halfway-in all of the time then that is the legacy that we will leave.  If I know you well enough at this point, I know that you want to be fully IN.  We are women that want to be engaged with our people and to be mindful of our experiences.  The good.  The hard.  The sweet moments.  We want it all.  Fully present, paying attention, and wholehearted.  Set your phone down and move inward.  Connect with your people.  Pay attention.  We’ve got this.
 
With Love & Backbone,
 
Jen
 
Here’s a link to a short 3-minute meditation.  Enjoy this easy self-care practice!
 
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