January: Mo. 1 of Gentleness
This month revealed that practicing gentleness is really, really difficult when it comes to Self. So, it seems the universe gave me the perfect word this year.
*Please note all of this information has already been processed with a licensed therapist
For the first week or so, I felt steady. My internal and external worlds were operating at a comfortable pace, one I felt like I could keep up with. After that, however, I started feeling increasingly overwhelmed. I noticed I stopped doing my daily routine tasks and hadn’t actively partaken in cleaning my house in a couple weeks (whoops!). Even acknowledging this, I couldn’t get myself to do anything about it.
The only way I can describe this sort of shut down is:
Imagine you are standing in a small glass cage. This cage is in your house, and it moves with you—you’re always surrounded by it. As you move through your day, you see the “better” version of yourself, watching them do everything you want to be doing, but can’t because you’re trapped in glass. You can see it all but are blocked from interacting in an effective way.
As my routine slowly disassembled as caused by me, yet unbeknownst to me, I experienced a slow buildup of irritability. I felt… wobbly. Then it all hit me a week-ish ago as I was working out with my partner. For whatever reason, I immediately slipped into obsessive thought patterns and counting behaviors I hadn’t experienced in over a year. All my progress seemed to be uprooted in a matter of seconds. I felt ashamed and embarrassed—how could my mind betray me like this? After journaling about it, I realized I did have anxiety building up, and the workout setting must have been just enough to push me over the edge. I let myself write it out and rest. This was my first big opportunity to practice gentleness with myself, and I succeeded. Phew!
Only a couple days later, I found myself feeling what can only be described as “off” at work. I love going to work, which is not a place of anxiety for me. Usually. So, when I started to have cold sweats and blurred vision, I knew something was wrong. The restaurant was too loud, I was floating around my body, and I was going to cry. I was about to have a panic response. Now my body was betraying me—nice! I wasn’t feeling too kind or gentle with myself in that moment, but looking back, I think asking to go home was a radical act of gentleness. I wasn’t going to force myself to suffer another three hours in this state. I’m proud of myself for communicating that need even when, again, I felt embarrassed and ashamed.
Since that panic response, I’ve continued to feel wobbly. Luckily, I have a wonderful therapist who helps me identify what I can do for myself to allow more ease. With her help, I am learning that gentleness is going to be a constant practice, not just something I do when I hit a bump.
Today I am practicing gentleness by taking a shower, letting my thoughts and feelings pass through without judgement, and stretching my body. I want to encourage each of you reading this, to do one tender thing for yourself today. I think it could be revolutionary if we all allowed ourselves to be where we need to be, do what we need to do, and judge others and ourselves a lot less when those needs fall outside of a deadline, schedule, or expectation.
In closing, I want to offer this poem // written January 5th
When I tell people
how I read today,
snuggled up on the couch
in my roommate’s fleece
blanket with
a cuppa chai tea
(add a spoonful of honey
and a splash of milk)
no one ever says
“you’re so lazy”.
They always say
something akin to wishing
they’d done the same.
When will my self-
hating voices silence?
When will I see rest and
moments of quiet as
not only necessary, but
as equally beautiful
to the moments of
flow, activity, and movement?
Still is not stagnant.
