I find myself staring at my laptop screen, a half-written email in front of me, and an endless to-do list swirling around in my head. The all-too-familiar urge to just walk away from it all arises and I immediately beat it back with thoughts of “I have so much that needs to be done.” I sat there completely ineffective and paralyzed by these two conflicting thoughts.
My thoughts shift to the well-intentioned self-care regime I had so carefully detailed in my journal, and then completely ignored. I didn’t have time for it now. I will start tomorrow.
Then there are another 10 minutes spent struggling with that same email, beating myself up inside because what should be a simple task continues to elude me.
The dog is staring at me (and has been for some time), so I finally put my laptop down, let her out, and sat on the bench outside.
I close my eyes and start to breathe. I can feel how tense my body is.
What the hell is going on with my jaw?
Another breath.
I need to get back to work, I don’t have time for this.
I can hear the birds singing in the trees. The cold spring air is fresh against my face. A few more moments of this. Then a few more.
Starting to remember something, I walk inside to pick up a book from a friend and I find these words:
“Often the moment when we most need to pause is exactly when it feels most intolerable to do so.
As happens in any addiction, the behaviours we use to keep us from pain only fuel our suffering.
The unfaced and unfelt parts of our psyche are the source of all neurosis and suffering.”
- Radical Acceptance — Tara Brach
When I finally got back to that email, I knew exactly what I needed to say — but it doesn’t matter anymore. The faceless name on the other side of the communication no longer needs my assistance — or even my response. They’ve figured out their issue on their own. As I delete that cursed draft I wonder: how many other of my perceived problems could be solved with a simple pause?