Most of us have heard the phrase "slow and steady wins the race." To which I say, "slow and steady may win the race, but she may also collect unemployment while hiding in her room." As I've been scooped up and slowly put back together this summer, I've often wondered if this pace is my new normal. In an attempt to counteract my propensity for doing nothing (and also to justify buying everything), I applied for a summer job at a local tutoring center. Just looking at the SAT prep book and reading the ten-step email, I began to feel a familiar and terrifying sense of overwhelm. I was prepared, I was presentable, and I probably could make time to squeeze everything in, but in a frenetic state that had previously burned me to the ground.
An important change that I observed, however, was that rather than looking to a swarm of others to tell me what to do, I trusted my instincts and intuition that this job was not a worthy investment. I trusted my discovery that I need consistent work hours, my own work space, and a community of colleagues that I see every day.
(Don't get me wrong, I'm still going to run this past my therapist. In her podcast, "Kristen and Chill," Kristen Carney has a segment called "things to tell my therapist." Mine would probably be "do I just not want to work anymore? Am I an entitled millennial? Have I morphed into a lazy asshole who uses her parents' money to eat an entire bag of peach rings in one sitting?")
When introducing the concept of steadiness, Adriene noted the importance of maintaining strength and alertness while simultaneously letting go of tension. For the anxious of sorts, this is a difficult practice. Almost proudly, I would attribute my successes in grad school to anxiety (looking back, perhaps it was also that I had no life outside of school whatsoever). There may be somewhat of a correlation between anxiety and productivity, but with that comes a veil of fog over a sense of alertness and strength. You're never fully there because you're too busy fretting over the past and the future. You're getting things done, but out of fear of failure, rather than internal strength.
I don't think I'm the only one in noticing that the more I have to do, the more tense I feel. In the past, this has required letting some obligations go. That's not always feasible in life. But breathing really fast, or running from room to room doesn't enhance productivity. Nor does looking at everything you have to do in the next year.
I, for instance, have already started unpacking my stuff in my mind, when in reality, I will be unpacking in August.
It's a normal reaction to face a difficult posture, assignment, or workday and tense up and think "there's no way I can get this done." We may physically shake in side plank, but our minds don't have to shake along with our bodies. We can breathe into the posture, remind ourselves that this too shall pass, and enjoy the strengthening that comes with the difficult.
Because there is no greater feeling than saying "I did it," when you thought that accomplishment was unobtainable.
I have dedicated this summer to recovery by significantly pairing down my obligations and expectations. While there are some moments of difficulty, and I initially respond by crying and panicking about how I will confront the issue, I am giving myself the "slow down" I needed and was fortunate enough to have available to me (again, a lesson in trusting your instincts). I will not always have this extended vacation from life. Getting through a PhD isn't a gentle practice. That doesn't mean it has to be a tense experience. It's usually the people who race through classes, who attend all the conferences, publish all the articles, who burn out first.
Even the term "getting through" sounds tense, like one has to uphill climb with an aggressive strength and grit. To play with language a bit, perhaps I'll start using the term "gliding through a PhD." Or I'll just say "I'm getting my PhD" and avoid sounding like a complete weirdo.
In an article titled "the Tortoise Mindset: How Slow and Steady Wins the Race of Life," Patrik Edblad states, "when you’re consistent, that creates momentum. That momentum creates progress. The progress creates self-confidence. The self-confidence starts shaping a new, more resourceful and empowering identity. And with this new identity comes the ability to create lasting change in your life." Momentum doesn't necessarily mean starting a new project or experiencing by diving in headfirst. If I had done this practice on day one, I wouldn't have received even half the benefits that I got today.
Momentum is steady. Progress is steady. With that steadiness and ease, you can face another day.
Namaste.
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