Dear Leland,
This morning was hard. Nothing happened that was particularly bad, and yet I felt as if nothing were going right.
Ironically, I woke up feeling energetic and motivated. I slept well this weekend. We socialized with dear friends. I was excited to build momentum in my workouts last week. Just a few hours later I had almost forgotten how my day stared, because those emotions felt so foreign.
You overslept this morning, I suspect due to a full and exciting weekend. Your mom also overslept this morning, due to not feeling well. I know how to prepare you boys for school, and am fully capable of getting you to school on time without your mom’s help. And yet.
I decided to make a protein shake today. That’s not terribly complicated, but I tried some new (to me) things this morning. I used our fancy blender, which I hadn’t used in awhile. I blended in some veggies, which I haven’t done before. None of this was terribly time consuming or hard. But it was new, and new things consume more energy than routines.
I also went to a yoga class today (more on that soon). This was also new, and I was a little nervous about it. Again, new things take up energy and emotions, even when we don’t realize it.
We dropped you off just in time for school. We forgot Everett’s Valentines Day cards, which he was supposed to bring to school today. Everett remembered when we got to school, and was upset to realize we had forgotten.
I belabor these details to illustrate how little it took-you and your mom oversleeping just a little, trying two relatively small new things, and realizing that we had forgotten to bring something (that, honestly, we can bring tomorrow) for Everett-for me to experience overwhelm.
What I noticed in that moment: the overwhelm felt familiar, almost normal. Chaos ruled the last several years of my life. Rarely did I take time to fully decompress and relax. As a result, feeling overwhelmed or on the verge of overwhelm became my normal state of being. Sadly, I think I’m far from alone as I write this, but that’s a topic for another day.
Point being: this morning’s routine, and especially the items mentioned above, gave me an excuse to fall into old habits of feeling stressed and overwhelmed. Our enjoyable weekend and my last week spent exercising, meditating, and writing, still leave me exposed to years of a habit of being overwhelmed by stimulus and chaos. Said differently: I am building new habits, but the old habits are still resurfacing.
And I think therein lies the lesson: new habits form slowly. It’s easy to see a familiar pattern and assume that we are reverting back, and that nothing is improving. It takes conscious awareness to recognize that we are making progress, that the old habits resurfacing are just habits (and looking at the items above, how little it takes for us to fall into old habits!), and then to trust that our new habits will yield tangible results soon enough.
In truth, I know that soon I will not constantly feel so harried. And I know it will not be so easy to fall back into the feelings of overwhelm that are all too familiar now. Fortunately, I was able to catch myself, even in the moment, and realize that this is temporary, and will improve soon. It’s taken me a lot of practice in the forms of meditation and coaching, but I’m now creating awareness when habits are taking over that no longer serve me. It’s a process that takes a fair amount of intention, time, and energy to start, and then continues to take (albeit less) intention, time, and energy to maintain.
Which leads us to yoga. I am not, shall we say, gifted at yoga. I’m not particularly flexible, and my balance is honestly terrible. (Aside: I’m somewhat astonished at Everett’s balance; he can do things, at 5, that I can’t comprehend. You are not as gifted as Everett, but your balance seems fine; you at least avoided this particular affliction of your dad’s. Unfortunately, your cousin inherited my balance; bless her).
Why do I mention this? You, like me, prefer to do things at which you excel. This is where our competitive nature can become problematic. You, like me, are fortunate to have many natural gifts and talents. And yet gifts can also be curses. Your competitive nature and many gifts will tempt you to focus all your time and energy on maximizing your gifts. And to some degree, it should! But you (like me) will be tempted to avoid activities that are beneficial but humbling…like yoga for me, especially today.
You probably don’t know that your mom and I started a yoga practice before you were born. Most weekends we would go attend a yoga class. I wasn’t particularly good, but I got better and eventually enjoyed the improvements in flexibility, stability, and mindfulness that resulted; I just felt better.
When you were born, our yoga practice ended. I continued stretching for the first few years of your life, but eventually fell out of that habit too. So today I was confronted with just how inflexible, and in some areas weak, I have become; it was not a particularly enjoyable experience.
Fortunately I am experienced enough to know that the first time is the hardest. Sessions tend to get less painful and more pleasurable with practice. Today I never got comfortable. Best case the poses felt awkward. Many were downright painful. Some I couldn’t do at all, and had to just let the class proceed without me. But what I know is that next week the awkward poses will feel less awkward. Eventually the pain will subside, and it’s impossible to describe the joy that accompanies release of tension that allows the pain to subside; over time the duration of pain will shrink and the payoff of joy will be easier to obtain. And eventually I will be able to do the poses that I couldn’t today.
But today was not that day. Today was a day to struggle, to assess and face with brutal clarity just where my current capabilities lie. I will not lie, today was not fun. But I know, due to experience, that today was the hardest day. So today was a win for overcoming the hardest part.
Consider my yoga experience a metaphor for whatever difficult task you have been avoiding or struggling with in your life.
I love you,
Dad
Letters to Leland 