The power of a pause

Between 'go' and 'stop', another way to live

Photo by Julia Taubitz on Unsplash

When things get difficult in life, most of us have a tendency to either keep plugging away - regardless of what it may be doing to us physically, mentally, and emotionally - or run away from it completely, quitting the job that’s making us miserable, leaving the relationship that has become hard work, throwing in the towel on a project that feels like it’s going nowhere. This is largely because, from birth, we have been conditioned to ‘shit or get off the pot’ - keep doing the thing (without complaint), or stop doing it altogether.

Growing up in the Rust Belt of the American Midwest, surrounded by the decay of post-war industry, my bones were fortified by a never-quit work ethic as much as they were by calcium. From the age of 11, I worked every summer at my uncle’s business and the occasional weekend too. By the time I was 16, I was putting in nearly 30 hours a week at a restaurant while attending high school, and did the same while taking a full load of classes at university. Not having a job and not paying my way were ideas that made my skin prickle with disgust, reliance on others a weakness. My fear of being a burden had many roots, planted in childhood for various reasons, but the outward expression was always the same: an almost aggressive need for independence.

But over the past few years, as I’ve faced unforseen challenges with my physical and mental health that have impacted my ability to work, I’ve been forced to confront that need, allowing it to soften and at times disappear. I’ve learned to identify the signs of an impending crash and to ask for help when needed, something I couldn’t fathom doing before. I’ve also begun to examine how I react when I sense the equilibrium of my life going off kilter, wondering if there is another way to deal with shitty feelings and situations besides ignoring them or running away.

A week and a half ago, feeling physically exhausted and close to an emotional breaking point in the wake of Trump’s re-election, I learned that there is. Instead of fight or flight, I employed the oft-forgotten stress response: freeze. When the choice was keep absorbing the despair and vitriol, run away and join a misandrist colony, or take a break from it all, I chose the latter. Deleting the social media and news apps from my phone felt a little dramatic, scary even, but the relief I felt when they were gone was immense. For the first time in a vey long time, I could hear my own thoughts, uninterrupted by the thoughts and opinions of others.

Like my phone when it’s running out of juice, I had to put myself on low battery mode, minimising inputs to my motherboard to preserve my energy for only the most important functions. For me, those include: resting, reading books, spending time with my family, doing non-screen-based hobbies, catching up on household admin, exercising, and writing. I’m even taking a sabbatical from work and my business.

It won’t be for long, maybe a month or two, but I know I need this time to recoup, recover, and recalibrate. Not only as an escape from the political landscape but from the pressure I have often placed on myself to be productive. Because, really, I am being productive. I’m getting things done that I’ve put off for months, and writing more now than I have all year. But most of all I am cultivating and living the values of true self-reliance I want my children to possess, of learning that sometimes you grow more in the pauses than in the action.

As most living things do in winter, we all need time to release what is no longer of use to us and enter a period of stillness. Without it, our newest, most beautiful selves cannot bloom in spring or enjoy the fruits of summer. So for however long it feels right, I will be hibernating from the digital landscape in favour of my physical one. I also hope to show up here more often, sharing some of the thoughts and stories in my head that have been drowned out by the noise of the world for too long.

I hope you will pause with me, taking even just a few moments each day to tune everything else out and focus on what brings you peace.