The Art of Showing Up

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The Art of Showing Up Page 4

by Rachel Wilkerson Miller


  “I’ve noticed you ask me about X a lot, and I’d prefer you didn’t.”

  “I never joke about X” or “I don’t think jokes about X are funny.”

  “Oh, I’m not a [hugger/very touchy person]!” or “Oh, I can’t stand having people touch my hair.”

  If someone explicitly asks “Is this OK?” or “Do you like this?”

  “Oh, no thank you!” or “I’d prefer not, actually” or “That actually makes me feel a bit [squeamish/stressed/etc.] and I’d love to [change the subject/sit this one out].”

  Some of these statements will also work if the person has already crossed the line and you’re trying to gently readjust. But if/when it’s past that point, you’ll probably need to have a more serious conversation, which we’ll cover in Chapter 10. And, of course, you should notice when folks are making similar statements to you—because they are communicating their boundaries, and it’s on you to adjust accordingly.

  Alanis Morissette’s Four Boundaries

  In an article for SELF, Alanis Morissette shared her idea of four essential boundaries, which she has also passed along to her children: “You can’t tell me what I’m thinking, you can’t tell me what I’m feeling, you can’t fucking touch my body/you can’t do anything with my body, and don’t touch my stuff.”

  That’s pretty much the stuff that matters, you know?

  Chapter 2

  Making Space

  Showing up for yourself isn’t possible if you don’t make space for yourself—space to notice and respond; space to flourish and thrive; space that you can fill with the habits, activities, and people that truly make you feel good. But space is not always easy to come by. There’s a growing expectation that we will always be on, reachable, in communication with dozens of our closest friends (virtually or IRL). No wonder we’re all exhausted.

  Making space begins with making choices. If you don’t decide how you want to live your life, other people will decide for you. Making space means you have to say no sometimes—no to your beloved friends, to your coworkers, to the things you “want” (but don’t really want), to the things you genuinely want (but not right this second), to your notifications and goddamn phone. You can’t be your happiest, most authentic self if you regularly abdicate this responsibility. I know this can be difficult, but I’ve found that it’s considerably easier when you are able to do it intentionally and wholeheartedly, confident in who you are and secure in the knowledge that your decision is the best one you could make in this moment. Or, to put it another way, if you know what, exactly, you’re saying yes to instead.

  Your TME

  If you’re reading this book, there’s a good chance that you’re someone who is always doing a lot—trying to excel at work, at home, and with friends; attempting to read/watch/ listen to whatever new thing smart people say you should check out; and basically earn A’s in all aspects of life. But everything we do costs us time, money, or energy (also known as TME). Your TME is your most valuable resource, and if you want to better show up for yourself, it’s helpful to think about how you’re spending it—and how you’d like to be spending it.

  The exercises from the previous chapter should have given you a better sense of what your values, tastes, and preferences are; now it’s time to look at where your TME is going so you can nail down your priorities. Because, unfortunately, your TME is in limited supply. Most of us don’t want to admit this, but the reality is that no one—not even the wealthiest, most extroverted, most on-top-of-their-shit individual—is able to do all the things they dream about doing. Like, you cannot finish a book a week, have a hobby, cook delicious homemade meals, exercise, watch every Instagram story, listen to every popular podcast, read every interesting article that is published every day, excel at work or school (or both), get enough sleep, and maintain a huge network of close friends. That said, you’ll be able to do a lot (if not all!) of the things that truly nourish you once you start giving less attention to the activities and people you don’t actually care about. As Laura Vanderkam writes in 168 Hours: You Have More Time Than You Think, “When you focus on what you do best, on what brings you the most satisfaction, there is plenty of space for everything.”

  The Audit

  To get a clear sense of where your TME is going, first do a time and energy audit. (For the moment, let’s leave money out of this—tracking money will make this exercise too overwhelming!) There are a couple different ways you can approach your audit.

  Monday Tuesday Wednesday

  6:00 AM Woke up, scrolled on phone

  6:30 AM On phone; replied to text from overnight

  7:00 AM Shower

  7:30 AM Tried on four different outfits

  8:00 AM On phone (texts, emails, IG, FB)

  8:30 AM Breakfast, phone

  Your personal time sheet

  Start with a blank weekly calendar that is broken down by the day, and then by the half hour or quarter hour. (Spreadsheets work well for this, but you can also use graph paper, a journal, or a calendar app.) For the next week or so, use it to record how you spend your time. Try to update it every sixty minutes, if possible, but if it’s not, just do it as often as you can, doing your best to remember all of the “small” activities that can actually fill a lot of time. While you’re at it, rate your energy during each time slot on a scale of 1 to 5, with 1 being the lowest and 5 being the highest. You can rate your physical energy (PE), your emotional energy (EE), and/or your mental energy (ME), or you can just rate your overall energy. Do whatever feels right for you; all that matters is that you understand the entries when you’re done. If you can do this for a full week, great! If not, that’s also fine.

  I’m not going to lie: Doing a personal time sheet can be hard. It’s not fun to write down all the ways you “waste” time or to admit that your energy is low whenever you hang out with certain people. Remember to be gentle with yourself. The goal is simply to get a better understanding of how you’re spending your time and energy, so aim to observe without judgment, and try not to rush to any conclusions or start making changes to your routine as you go.

  Once you’ve finished your audit, spend some time going through your data. Where is the bulk of your time and energy going? What patterns do you notice? How much time are you spending on self-care? How much time are you spending on or with other people versus yourself? How much time are you spending on bullshit (by your own definition)? What do you feel good about? What, if anything, do you feel sad or anxious about or wish were different?

  Your ideal schedule

  As an alternative to your personal time sheet—or immediately following it—here’s a similar but slightly different approach: Fill out a blank weekly calendar (broken down by the day and then by the quarter hour) with your ideal schedule. I don’t mean “ideal” in the sense of having unlimited wealth and no responsibilities; I mean ideal for you right now. What do you want to be doing?

  This can also be a difficult exercise! We’re not meant to play God, you’ll think as you realize just how many fifteen-minute increments there are in a single day. If this isn’t for you, consider trying this idea from Emotional Agility by Susan David that I really love: “Answer a single question, in writing, each night before bed: ‘As I look back on today, what did I do that was actually worth my time?’”

  If you’re feeling guilty or embarrassed about how you’ve been spending your time, it might be helpful to consider the difference between excuses and reasons. In her book Unf*ck Your Habitat, Rachel Hoffman defines the two: “Excuses are things that people use to justify not doing something because they don’t want to do it. Reasons are how people explain not doing something because they aren’t able to do it. See the difference? Saying you don’t want to wash the dishes because they’re just going to get dirty again later is an excuse. Saying that you can’t stand up for more than a few consecutive minutes to wash dishes because you’re having a pain flare-up is a reason.”

  Once you’ve finished your time and ene
rgy audit, you can put everything we’ve covered so far together: Who are you? What do you value? What do you need and want? What does your life really look like? What do you realistically have time and energy for? How are you actually spending your days? And going forward, what will you prioritize?

  Do Less

  During and after your audit, there’s a good chance you’ll discover that you’re spending time and energy on activities or relationships that aren’t making you feel good, and that you can easily dump. But you might also feel like you still don’t have enough time to do everything you want to do. And I get that! I love doing, and the idea of cutting anything out is extremely hard for me. “What do you mean, ‘You don’t have to make custom koozies for everyone attending the party this weekend’?” I’ll say dismissively, cranky because I’ve been DIYing decorations for three days straight and have forgotten to eat. When I have really strong feelings about something, it’s easy for me to forget that just because I can do something doesn’t mean I should. I’ve finally begun to see the power and practicality in just doing a little bit less more often.

  It started when I was constantly stressed about work. So much of that stress was rooted in my attempts to always do more. I’d gotten it in my head that the only way to do something was perfectly, and I applied that to everything. And I was just tired. I felt like my brain was on fire all the time. So I stopped doing so much (which is exactly as easy and as difficult as it sounds). And it felt great?!

  Doing less manifests in a few core ways in my life. From a time management perspective, it means “You literally do not have time to do all of these things.” Like, of course you can’t do everything! No one can! But for some reason, we all assume everyone else is doing everything—maintaining strong friendships, going on romantic dates with their partner, working out every day, not crying in the office bathroom, wearing the right bra size—which is why, I suspect, we so often feel like we’re fucking up and failing at life. But it’s a huge relief to be honest with yourself and others about what you can do. And by “do,” I don’t mean “do if everything goes perfectly and I am a slightly better version of myself.” I mean “do most days, being the person I am with the life I have.” There are 168 hours in a week, but we aren’t robots! We can only realistically do so much in that time. While I genuinely believe that evaluating how you’re currently spending your time and energy will make it possible to do more of the things that matter most to you, I don’t think any of us will ever be able to do everything we’d like to do. I certainly can’t!

  Doing less means not always trying to do The Absolute Most. It’s recognizing that sometimes, you don’t have to go to three stores to get your friend the perfect “OMG, so them!!!” birthday card in existence—because any birthday card you choose will do. It’s planning to make guacamole for your next potluck, and then taking a look at your schedule for the next few days and remembering that—if I may quote Ina Garten here—store-bought is fine.

  Doing less means no longer saying yes to every request because you know that’s what someone else wants to hear you say—or because that is what you want to hear yourself say. It’s telling the truth about what you’re capable of doing, and being OK with that.

  Doing less means being willing to do a less-than-perfect job at something that kind of doesn’t matter. We all know the old adage that perfect is the enemy of good. But how many of us believe that this advice only applies to other people, and that we personally have to do everything perfectly? (Guilty!!!) But it’s actually fine to not be the best at something, to not give 100 percent to everything. It’s especially OK if the task at hand doesn’t matter to you (or to anyone but you). As a high-achiever who always wants to do more and make things a little better, it’s been hard to get to a point where I can admit this. But the truth is, since I’ve started letting good enough be good enough, the world hasn’t ended. I doubt anyone has even noticed. And I truly believe that will be the case for you, too.

  Doing less means just letting some shit go. (Are you having a heart attack reading this yet? I’m so sorry.) If you’re the type of person who loves to solve problems and is driven by an urge to fix, it can be incredibly difficult to leave things messy or imperfect or unfinished or uncertain or un-googled. (Again, I’m dragging myself here.) But sometimes you can’t, or don’t need to, or the amount of work required to fix the problem is more than you actually have.

  It can be hard to admit that you don’t have unlimited TME, especially if you’ve spent years telling yourself a story about the power of self-control. But what’s the alternative? Letting yourself and other people down because you overpromised and now can’t deliver? Running yourself into the ground? Feeling constant low-level guilt that makes it impossible to enjoy what you’re actually doing? I mean, sure, you could do that. But what if you just . . . did less?

  What if you didn’t have to offer the best and most thorough answer (or any answer!!!) to every question that arises in your orbit? What if you just let your coworker who is wilding out over something inconsequential go off and didn’t make correcting them your problem? Take it from me, a lifelong answerer and corrector: The world would not end.

  Once you start doing less, you begin to realize that it almost always gives you more of what you actually want: more time, more space, more focus, more genuine enjoyment, and a higher likelihood of achieving your goals. But don’t do it for that reason; do it because it’ll make you feel better.

  “Do less” is what I say to remind myself that I have limits and I also have agency—and that even if I’m not perfect, I’ll still be OK.

  How to Be Alone

  A lot of the struggle to honor your own boundaries (and to respect other people’s) is rooted in a fear of being alone—of not having friends, a partner, a family, anyone. I don’t want to ask for help because I’m worried people will judge me and leave me. I don’t want to be my true authentic self because I’m worried no one will love me. I don’t want to say no because I’m worried I’ll stop being invited. All of this is completely understandable! The need for company and attention and a social network is a very real, very human need, and there’s no reason to be ashamed of wanting it.

  It’s impossible to honor your own needs if you’re constantly worried that everyone you care about is going to leave you. Being OK with being alone is critical to showing up for yourself, and to living an authentic, fulfilling life. So if you’re deeply uncomfortable being alone—whether that means going to a movie by yourself, or being single—to the point where it’s dictating your decisions or interfering with your relationships, you might want to first spend some time working on accepting yourself.

  To be good at being alone, you have to like your own company and have confidence that being alone sometimes (or a lot of the time!) isn’t some huge character flaw or moral failing. But also: Being more comfortable being alone—like everything else!—is something you can get better at with practice.

  Some definitions: Going forward, I’ll use “solo” to refer to being in a public space without any sort of companion (e.g., running errands by yourself, but with plenty of strangers around). I’ll use “being alone” to refer to being truly physically alone (so, say, being alone in your home). And I’ll use a definition of “solitude” (and solitary) that comes from authors Raymond Kethledge and Michael Erwin: “a subjective state of mind in which the mind, isolated from input from other minds, works through a problem on its own.” Solitude can happen when you’re alone or solo as long as you’re not receiving any inputs (so: not listening to music, not watching TV, not texting or scrolling through your phone, etc.).

  If you think you could stand to get better at being solo, alone, and/or solitary, here are some ways to practice.

  Reduce the number of inputs you’re receiving when you’re not alone.

  Being a little more solitary when you’re with other people is a great place to start. It’s not exactly the same as being alone with your thoughts, but it’s a step in that direc
tion. First, consider shutting off other sources of entertainment or background noises when you’re with people. (For example, try not listening to the radio if you’re in the car with your partner, or turn off the TV once your roommate arrives home and you start debriefing on the day.) Next, try minimizing inputs when you’re solo. That might look like turning off your music when you’re working out at the gym or putting your phone in airplane mode while you run errands.

  Find little ways to go out into the world solo more often.

  Being solo can be intimidating, so start small until you build up your tolerance! Look for activities that aren’t too commitment heavy, meaning you can exit at any point. (Sitting at a coffee shop alone is easier than sitting at a bar alone, which is easier than eating at a nice restaurant alone.) You could also be solo in places where people likely won’t notice you or the fact that you’re alone—and/or where you’ll likely never see these people again. So, instead of going to a restaurant alone (where you might feel like other diners keep looking at you), you could go to a movie alone (where everyone is watching the screen) or go to a bar alone when you’re traveling to a different city. And take note of all the people who are solo when you’re out in the world; you’ll likely start to notice that there are a lot of them, and it’s totally fine.

  Try meditative activities that aren’t actually meditation.

  Meditation is a great way to practice being solitary. But it’s intimidating! Here’s what finally got me over the hump: I tried activities that gave me a taste of what meditation might feel like but that didn’t ask me to go all in. For me, this looked like puzzles, embroidery, and calligraphy, but it could also be building model trains, woodworking, knitting, or baking bread. Think: activities that are repetitive and a bit mindless but still feel stimulating and energizing. If you need to, you can let yourself have one passive input when you start (so, say, listening to music or a podcast), and build up to doing it without any inputs at all.

 

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