I hate “mindfulness”
I do. I really, REALLY do. I've always assumed it's because I'm a bit too uptight for that kind of thing. Ironically, I am aware that "mindfulness" would probably be very good for my generally tightly-wound self. But I swear to god, if someone told me to do some kind of mindfulness activity, I'm more likely to throw something at them than to do it. And don't get me started on guided visualizations. I did my yoga instructor training years ago, and I've had my fair share of hippies in flowy clothing talking me through my "mind garden" or whatever, thank you very much.
I do, however, occasionally meditate. Though I don't feel like it's quite such a lofty activity as the word "meditation" implies. Mostly I just sit on the floor, with decent posture, breathing complete breaths, and tell reassuring things to my brain until it calms down and I feel a little like I'm underwater. Sometimes it takes me 2 minutes to get to this place, and sometimes it takes me 30. (It took me like 15 years, 3 degrees and 200 hours of yoga certification and I still didn't click with meditation, so no worries if you aren't there yet either. Hopefully, I can help you get there quicker and cheaper.)
Mostly, I do this sitting-on-the-floor-being-kind-to-myself thing when I'm feeling self-critical or overly frustrated or worried. So often we have emotions floating around in our bodies that we don't really acknowledge. And all of you teachers know exactly what happens when you ignore something that seeks your attention: eventually all kinds of unexpected crap happens.
When I'm feeling out-of-sorts, I often can identify it by either 1. rumination, which is essentially whirring thoughts about the same topic that go basically nowhere, or 2. a general disconnect from my body. For me, this manifests as having a hard time being aware of my feet and my hands, and a general too-lightness in my body. I'm not sure how to describe it better than that, which I recognize if vague and not all that helpful.
How can you tell when you're out of sorts? (Spoiler alert: you can probably just notice how you're feeling right now. Because anyone who is not at least slightly out of sorts right now deserves a medal and a TED talk contract). Are your jaw/stomach/sides of your nose clenched (don't laugh, when I'm stressed, I really do get a lot of tension in the sides of my nose)? Do you have a hard time "changing your brain channel"? Does everything feel unbearably hard, even little things? Do your hands get too hot?
After you know how to tell when you need to sit down and be kind to yourself, let's talk about the reassuring things you might want to tell your brain. For me, I can often quiet my racing thoughts by reminding myself that in 5 minutes, I'll still have all the brain capacity that I have right now. I don't need to think about that thing right now because I'll still be able to think about it later. I'll have all the same skills I need to solve this problem when I'm done. There is no urgency here. I'm not going to lose anything by not thinking about it for a few minutes.
Another thing I will often do is notice the worry or the frustration and start asking myself what my underlying fear is. I've never met a worry or a frustration that wasn't ultimately caused by fear. Maybe you're thinking about that last team meeting because you're afraid that everyone else is more on it and should be doing more. Or you're frustrated that when the technology stuff doesn't work, you're afraid it will make you look like an idiot. Or that people will judge you if you show any kind of emotion other than cheeriness. Or if you don’t figure out how to help that one kid, their parents might be angry at you, or they’ll suffer in school in the future and you won’t have been able to help them. Or that this is your life now and everything is going to be this hard forever and ever until you die.
I'm going to let you in on a therapist secret: this sort of questioning and identifying those deep core fears is like 95% of therapy. Seriously, it pretty much always ends up with talking about core fears, no matter where it starts.
This week, I'm giving you homework. I feel like we've gotten to the stage in our relationship where I can do that, and you'll know I'm not intentionally trying to waste your time. I want you to set a timer for 5 minutes and find a space where you can sit quietly. If the only place you can get some privacy and a locked door is the bathroom, look no judgment here. Maybe bring in some noise cancelling headphones for when your children inevitably start yelling through the door and sticking their tiny fingers underneath. And I want you to sit on the floor, with good posture, taking full and slow breaths, and say reassuring things to your brain until it starts to slow down. Think about how the most compassionate version of yourself might reassure a hysterically crying child and speak in that tone of voice to yourself.
And then when you open your eyes, I bet you'll feel calmer, more grounded and less stressed. Because apparently "mindfulness" actually works. It's honestly infuriating.
