When we first moved into our home, the 1 acre yard was a motley medley of scraggly grass and tenacious weeds; too wet to mow and too shady for grass to thrive. It was a blank canvas. Slowly, I began to paint, using the medium of small starter plants, tree seedlings obtained from the forestry department, and cuttings and divisions nurtured from friends and neighbors.
I had a vision of a magical woodland retreat, filled with the soft haze of ferns and the subtle flowers of the understory. For years, this image existed only in my head, the reality of small, young plants planted in a vast, weed-strewn yard looked nothing like a garden. I spent hours on the weekends and after work attacking weeds and planting replacements. On days when the weather was prohibitive, I would research plants and growing conditions. I made annual treks to a budget nursery in a nearby town, filling my car to the bursting points with dreams held in the bright green folds of new growth.
But slowly, it emerged. I watched 2 foot bald cypress saplings grow to 30 foot trees. Ferns and hostas spread their roots far and wide under the protective shade of the understory. Hydrangea proudly held their blooms high, as though no longer ashamed of their companions. Colors would come and go throughout the weeks: daylilies, Lenten rose, iris, geraniums, azaleas. Their spectacular shows provided endless variety and interest.
From February through November, I would begin most every day with a walk along the stone path, through the pergolas, and over the boardwalk. Examining the new growth,watching the wildlife, reveling in the beauty of the plants. On the weekends, I would bring my papers to grade out to one of the hammocks to enjoy the breezes through the leaves and the interplay of light and shadow.
In my old life I had a garden.
It was painful to walk away from my plants, nurtured for so many years. I found myself staring at plants around town wistfully, thinking of their counterparts in my yard. As with much of my transition, it was painful, but also freeing. I no longer had to worry about the assaults of deer, the dangers of a last freeze, or the effects of a flood. My weekends were not filled with weeding. My hands no longer frozen from the cold February soil.
But still, I mourned my plants. I purchased a pass to the botanical gardens and promised myself a monthly visit. Now, I walk their perfectly manicured paths and appreciate the beauty created by teams of professionals. The gardens are stunning, but it’s not the same as one created by my own labor. My own dreams.
In my old life I had a garden.
The last few years, my nurturing energies have been turned inwards, helping myself to grow and thrive. I have tried to eliminate the weeds, start new plantings, and encourage growth. I have become my own garden.
And, now, with home ownership again on the horizon, I look forward to creating a new garden, filled with both familiar and untried plants. A testament to the persistence of life and the beauty of growth.
I spend a lot of time thinking about habits – the good, the bad, the intentional and the wholly accidental.
In my own life, I have become aware of and am addressing my habits of mind that lead me to anxious thoughts and a propensity to becoming overwhelmed. I have removed some habits (okay, maybe removing is more accurate:) ) and added others (such as my daily meditation practice).
At school, I strive to teach the students the good habits of an academic – preparation, questioning and perseverance. I try to coach them to bring a pencil every day (you have no idea how difficult this is with 8th graders!), complete their homework, ask until they understand and to push harder when the work gets tough.
As a wellness coach, I help my clients establish habits that improve the well-being of their minds and bodies. I assist them in identifying their thinking patterns that underlie their choices and I aid them in becoming more aware of their mindless approach towards health and fitness.
Habits themselves are neither good nor bad. They are simply acquired behaviors that are done often and automatically and can be difficult to break. Habits have a purpose; they serve to automate much of the minutiae of life so that our brains are free to attend to novelty. Habits are difficult to break because they often occur below our level of awareness and they are reinforced by the removal of a negative stimulus (ex. relieving anxiety) or the application of a positive stimulus (the taste of that cookie on your tongue).
I spend a lot of time thinking about habits.
But they still have the capacity to surprise me with their tenacity.
My car is approaching its 14th birthday. I had an after market alarm installed within a week of purchase. This alarm came with two identical keypads that, shockingly enough, do not have the staying power of an Acura. Although the car runs fine (knock on wood), the keypads have now both passed on. I suppose I could track down replacements or have another alarm installed, but the car is 14 years old. I really don’t want to put any money in it that is required by the stoic hamsters under the hood.
So, Brock clipped the wires to the alarm. No problem, I thought. I don’t care about the alarm anymore. But I was forgetting something.
Habit.
My doors used to lock automatically after a 30 second delay (mechanics hated this – they used to lock themselves out all the time!). After 14 years, I have become used to this feature. When I exit my car in a safe location (basically home and work), I simply walk away and wait for the car to lock itself.
It doesn’t do that anymore. Now, I have to remember to manually enter a key in the lock and turn. I know, so archaic.
My car key. The ribbon was used by Brock to secure my engagement ring in his pocket on the night he proposed:)
How many times have I remembered since the wires were clipped (sounds like an automotive vasectomy, doesn’t it? 🙂 ) on Saturday? None.
Lisa 0
Habits 5
Damn.
I used to tease my mom about her attempts to remember things and break through habits. She had sticky notes plastered to every available surface as visual reminders. She would place throw pillows right in her morning path to prompt her brain to remember while her body adjusted its path. These were never useful strategies for long. As with anything, she adapted to their presence and their novelty no longer registered.
I came down the stairs to this the other day. I first thought my mom must have put it there. Then I remembered, she’s a thousand miles away. It turns out that Tiger pulled it off the couch. Perhaps a reminder to chase squirrels?
I used to tease her. But I get it now. I don’t think its so much a loss of memory as we age as the accumulation of habits.
Less is novel.
And more is automatic.
We do as we have done.
Biology uses the term “homeostasis” to describe an organism’s attempt to maintain a state of equilibrium or balance. Our habitual state becomes our equilibrium and we are fighting homeostasis to change those patterns of thought or action.
It’s a difficult battle, but not impossible.
The easiest way to change habits is to piggyback them on other changes. For example, if I had a new car, it would be easier for me to remember that my exit strategy had changed. Or, when my life was in flux from divorce, I could easily add a regular yoga class since it was simply one more change of many.
I’m not suggesting you get divorced just so you can do yoga, however!
So what can you do when you don’t have other change to anchor to?
Start by becoming aware of your habits and their precursors.
Example: I buy a Starbucks on the way to work every day when I drive by a specific location.
Identify the pros and cons of the habit.
Example: Starbucks is yummy and coffee has caffeine, but it is expensive.
Change the circumstances or the precursors.
Example: I drive a new route that does not take me by the Starbucks.
Redesigned logo used from 2011-present. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Practice relaxation.
Example: The best part of the coffee was the first sip before I walked into work. Instead, I will take a brief mediation in the car to relax.
Identify the challenging situations.
Example: I am most likely to stop when I have not had enough sleep or I am stressed about the day.
Plan alternatives to the habit.
Example: When I am tired, I will bring an extra mug of coffee from home and I will use yoga and meditation to handle the stress.
Create a challenge.
Example: I will commit to an entire Starbucks-free month.
Just so you know, that is a hypothetical “I” in the above exercise. I love me some Starbucks but I’m too cheap to go there too much! I went through much the same process when I decided to add meditation to my daily life a year ago. Since then, I have been able to create a habit of it; I rarely skip more than a day. It has become part of my homeostasis, my balance. We will always revert. It is impossible to not to fall back on habit, to be completely mindful in every moment. Luckily, we can change what we revert back to by changing those habits and creating a new stasis.
And now, I just need to go through the process with locking my car door. In the meantime, please don’t steal my car. I might have to send Tiger after you!
Wounded arriving at triage station, Suippes, France from sanitary train. Selected by Scott. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I had dinner last night with a friend who recently experienced a significant break up. This also happened to coincide with her completion of an education program and the start of a new job.
She’s in first responder mode as she works to triage her life. The pain and heartbreak have to be pushed aside for the moment as she tends to exams and the demands of a new job.
It’s a state I identify with – the adrenaline fueled days and sleepless nights. The pressing demands overriding any fear or emotion. The tunnel vision that develops so that you can attend to one crisis at a time. The weird excitement that courses through the body, even in the face of loss.
I went into first responder mode when my husband left. I was facing overwhelming change – loss of a husband, home, dogs and health. Nothing was the same. I had never ending legal obligations between the divorce and the criminal trial. I had the same job, but the start of the school year was fast approaching and that is always a time of increased stress and adjustment.
I triaged my life. I set priorities and worked to accomplish them. There wasn’t room to feel sad. I let my focus narrow and I allowed anger to be my fuel. In an emergency, you have to be able to ignore all non-essentials to address the matters of life and death. You need to be able to act rather than feel. You don’t have time to worry about non life threatening issues or to attend to the bigger picture. It’s all about doing what needs to be done so that life continues for another breath.
Eventually, the emergencies pass and the first responder mode is not appropriate any longer. I remember my struggle to let go of my first responder and to allow a more holistic self-caregiver to take her place. Here is the advice I gave my friend last night based on my own experiences:
– It’s okay to not feel right now. You have to do what needs to be done to make sure your basic needs are met. It doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with you.
– Just like the reality of a medical emergency hits after the danger has passed, expect the reality of this to hit you once the initial crisis have been navigated. Don’t be surprised.
– Allow yourself to feel; don’t stay too distracted for too long. You’ve compartmentalized for the moment so that you can function. Those walls won’t hold forever. When you are ready, slow down. The fear of the pain is usually worse than the pain itself.
– Again, when you are ready, look for what you can learn from the relationship. When those nuggets come up right now, file them away for later when you are better able to analyze them.
– I know you want to be okay. But don’t let that desire cause you to pretend to be okay before you really are. There is no timeline, but if you don’t heal, it will eventually fester.
– It’s okay to ask for help. First responders rarely work alone.
– Be careful of the adrenaline; it can become addictive. Unless you want to live your life jumping from one emergency to another, you have to learn to let it go when it is no longer needed.
I know my friend will be okay. She’s strong and capable. In time, her emergency will resolve and she can leave her first responder mode behind.
The best lessons can be found when we are facing unanticipated change and loss. It is a moment between moments where we are lost and searching, broken and vulnerable, wanting and open. In those moments between moments we learn who we really are and what we are capable of.
When you find yourself in that moment created in the space after a sudden change, try to see the opportunities wrapped within the loss. Growth is so much easier when we are unencumbered by our usual habits and assumptions. Rather than immediately seeking protection from the pain, be with it and be vulnerable. It is in those moments between where our potential resides.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 