Let me off this ride!
Welcome back! I came here to write to y’all and discovered that it's been more than a year since my last post. I read it over and considered where I am today. Guess what? I'm still burnt out. It isn't all bad, though. My partner and I made it to the Alameda County Fair this summer and to the Santa Cruz Boardwalk, too. I was watching her ride the swings with some family friends when I had an itchy, scratchy, Stephen King-like thought: What if once you were on the ride, you could never get off?
ID: Three pictures of Caitlin on rides - she’s waving cheesily in the first and third: First the boat ride on her own, second she and her niece way in front of me on the Sky Tram. The third picture is her with a family friend about to take off into the wild blue yonder. That’s the ride that got me going.
My stomach dropped and I had to look away. How awful would that be? I mean, soaring around in circles is fine if you know when it's going to end, but what if you didn't know? How long before you started to feel sick? How long before you started to feel trapped and panicky? My palms felt sticky with sweat as I turned back to watch the ride lower and begin to slow. I could feel my pulse in my ears as I went to the exit gate to wait for them. I gave my partner a little hug and she gave me a questioning pat.
"Everything okay?" she asked.
"Yup," I answered, and we were off to the next ride. But the truth was, I wasn't sure. I suddenly saw my life like a ride that never ends, and thought of how long it had been since I had any kind of break, when I had last really felt rested. It had been a long time, too long. And I couldn't see any way off the ride yet, either. I had a ton of work to do to get ready for our big summer institute. We had some health concerns in the family, too, that were going to require a lot of time and energy. This ride was not ending any time soon, and I was reaching that panic state.
Luckily I work with an amazing group of people and was able to signal them from the ride (not with a flare or anything like that, I really just talked to them) and let them know how I was doing. Telling them didn't change the significant concerns I was facing, but it did give me some ease to share that burden with trusted people. After that conversation I found it a little easier to name that feeling I was having, to others AND to myself, and to allow myself a little more kindness. Sometimes that means going running, and sometimes it means skipping the run. Sometimes it means letting someone else do something for me. What can you do in your life that allows you a little more kindness?
It's still a little scary, but I think I feel the ride slowing down.
ID: Caitlin on the left, me on the right. We have matching rainbow face paint and are both grinning. We’re on the carousel - at the end of the ride.
Banner Image: The smooth roller coaster Caitlin and her dad rode - that’s them in that one, tiny car just left of center. I took it myself.
