Nature is now a big part of my showing-up routine; I simply can’t deny that it turns me into a much better version of myself. As Williams says, “There are times when we could all be a little less reactive, a little more empathetic, more focused and more grounded. That’s where a nature dose can help.” Uhhhh, yes! These days, you can regularly find me exclaiming, “Who is she?!” upon seeing a particularly majestic tree (and then whipping out my copy of National Geographic Field Guide to the Trees of North America to find out); taking an afternoon break in a park; pointing out fractals in the wild; and walking to the river just in time for sunset.
I was especially inspired by Williams’s description of a nature pyramid, which she credits to Tim Beatley, who runs the Biophilic Cities project at the University of Virginia. It’s similar to the classic food pyramid and is a handy way to think about how much nature we all need.
The Nature Pyramid
Thirty minutes a day: lightweight interactions with or observations of nature; think: trees, plants, natural light, fresh air, sunrise and sunset, the moon and stars, and animals
An hour a week: trips to parks and waterways, “places where the sounds and hassles of the city recede”
One or two days a month: an excursion to a forest or other immersive natural area
A few times a year: big multi-day doses of wilderness; think: camping trips, a stay in a national park
If you’re not sure where to begin, here are some tips that helped me start using nature as a way to relax and recharge.
Start with your own backyard.
I used to think “nature” was something that happened elsewhere—in the woods, at a lake—but it’s worth taking a look around the places you spend the most time and seeing if that’s actually true. Even though I don’t have my own yard in NYC, I do have stunning trees on my block (and I can now tell you what kind they are!!!), parks within walking distance, and an array of flora and fauna crossing my path every single day.
Make nature come to you.
Bird feeders, bee hotels, and butterfly gardens are great ways to do this. And don’t overlook the power of desk plants, aromatherapy, or pumping nature sounds through your headphones.
Learn more about nature.
The more I know about nature, the easier it is for me to observe and appreciate it. Try reading science and outdoor blogs and listening to science podcasts. Or look to Mary Oliver, patron saint of nature poetry. Her poems are so soothing and relaxing; I especially love reading them while outside.
Go to the water.
Even though I don’t much care for getting in the water, being near water makes me feel better. Spending a day at the beach makes me feel like a whole new person, and simply sitting or walking next to one of NYC’s rivers fills me with awe and sends my brain into the “calm alert” zone that feels so damn good.
Getting Dressed
A lot of people think of getting dressed as something we do for other people, but I put it firmly in the “showing up for myself” category. And showing up isn’t about dressing up. Sure, it could mean putting on a sequined dress, but it might also mean putting on cozy sweatpants—because one of those feels truer to your real identity and brings you joy, and one of them makes you feel twitchy. Consider a floral dress, a tube of red lipstick, a pair of sneakers, or a trip to the hairdresser; any of these can feel luxurious, beautiful, special, oppressive, uncomfortable, or like an act of survival . . . it all depends on who you are.
When I think about what it means to show up for myself through my clothes (and my hair, makeup, and accessories), I think about comfort. Not just physical comfort (though my wardrobe is basically built around my desire to wear flat shoes the majority of the time), but comfort in the sense of feeling confident and at ease with my appearance and in how I move through the world. Wearing clothes you feel truly comfortable in can be difficult, particularly if you have a body that our culture has decided to police more, or if your vision of yourself is at odds with what society has deemed acceptable. But even if you can’t wear what you want all the time, it’s still worth knowing what genuinely comfortable clothing looks like to you.
We’ve all had those days where we’ve worn something we don’t quite feel at home in. It’s that item you didn’t really love, but bought anyway—because it was on sale, or because it represented the person you hoped to be, or because you needed some new clothes and didn’t hate it—and now feel like you have to wear it. Maybe it doesn’t quite fit right, or has a feature (peplum, a floppy bow) that you dislike. Or you like it as a standalone piece but have no idea what to wear with it, and every time you try to make an outfit out of it, you regret what you come up with. Whenever you resign yourself to wearing it, you think maybe this time will be different. But it’s never different!!! Each time you wear it, you spend your day tugging at it, anxiously checking your reflection to see if you look as bad as you feel.
Wearing clothes you don’t feel good in is a huge distraction. It can be hard enough to get through a day even when you do like your outfit! And if you’re too hot, too cold, too exposed, or wearing something that’s itchy or tight or ill-fitting or just not you, it’s basically impossible to feel at ease.
So if you’re trying to do a better job of showing up for yourself, spend some time thinking about the role your wardrobe plays in how you’re feeling on a given day. Here are some questions you might think about.
How much do you enjoy shopping?
How much do you enjoy dressing yourself? Do you see it as a creative outlet/something you enjoy? Neutral? Something you dread?
What items or outfits would you wear every single day if you could?
What items do you dread putting on?
What items make you think, “Yay, I get to wear that again!”?
What colors, patterns, and fabrics make you feel cozy inside? Which ones stress you out?
What seasons or types of weather seem to really agree with you, fashion-wise? Which ones drain the life out of you?
Do your clothes fit you? (Literally: are they too small, too big, too long, too short?)
What is the relationship between your clothes and your body? Are you drawn to clothes that hide or “fix” your body in some way? Are you following certain “rules” for people with your body type or who are your age? How is that affecting your wardrobe and how do you feel about it?
Does your current wardrobe reflect your true style? Why or why not?
What was the last time your outfit or an article of clothing ruined an otherwise good day (or event)? What were you wearing? What was the problem?
How often are you willing/able to do laundry?
Do you have any personal values that influence how you buy clothes, or the clothes you’ll wear?
When you’re thinking through these questions, try to get super specific—consider not just pants or dresses but underwear, socks, boots, sandals, gloves, pajamas, coats, weekend wear, and the clothes you put on after work but before bedtime. So often, these are the items that make a big difference in how we feel, particularly during seasons with extreme weather. Also think about the role that hair, makeup, and jewelry play in how you feel. Would you be happier if you gave yourself permission to cut your hair short, stop wearing makeup, or wear big-ass earrings every day?
Once you’ve gone through this process, you’ll hopefully have a better understanding of how your clothes are influencing the way you feel, and be able to figure out your core needs and priorities with regard to your wardrobe. Shopping for clothes and getting dressed can be so fraught and so discouraging—and so expensive, so time-consuming, and so tiring. Figuring out what you feel best in and what you feel terrible in, and then committing to wearing more of the former and less of the latter, can be truly life-changing. It may take a little while to get there, but you can—one pair of comfortable shoes, great pants, and big-ass earrings at a time.
You Probably Need a Hobby
Not to brag, but I am really good at having hobbies. It’s n
ot that I’m good at all the hobbies I take up . . . but I’m great at pursuing hobbies. This is probably because hobbies combine three of my favorite things: learning new stuff, buying new stuff, and—according to every personality test I’ve ever taken and my natal chart—an obsession with self-improvement.
If you don’t have a hobby at the moment, might I suggest remedying that? Hobbies provide you with a sense of accomplishment; teach you about yourself; introduce you to new people, concepts, and facts about the world; and give you something to do besides watch the same episodes of reality TV and scroll on your phone.
Hobbies vs. Activities
My friend Terri says that there are two types of people in this world: People who like hobbies and people who prefer activities. I concur! She defines a hobby as something you craft and pursue over time, and an activity as something that doesn’t require any real skill and that is typically more of a onetime event (though you can definitely do the same activity repeatedly). To quote Terri: “Lying on the grass in the park on a nice day? Activity! Going to the park every weekend with your Nat Geo field guide to identify the birds chirping loudly overhead? Hobby!” So if hobbies aren’t working for you, perhaps consider getting into activities (like visiting museums, going to concerts or shows, reading, trying new restaurants, doing puzzles, or playing games) instead.
Whether you choose a hobby or an activity, the goal is just to develop an interest that brings joy, satisfaction, and relaxation to your free time. Some hobbies that I’ve pursued in the past few years are making friendship bracelets, embroidery, cross-stitch, dot journaling, painting, calligraphy, making paper flowers, and photography. If you’re not into crafts, some other ideas: crossword puzzles, sports (either individually or with a team), book club, playing an instrument, volunteering, trivia, classic movies, or getting more involved in your community.
Finally, remember to let yourself be bad or mediocre at your hobby. Sorry to be all Your Mom’s Gruff New Boyfriend for a second, but we can’t all be winners—and a little low-stakes failure is good for ya! At the very least, being mediocre at your hobby won’t kill you.
*
As I mentioned earlier, I believe that our habits are . . . kind of everything. Turns out, that’s not just true in a feelsy way; it’s also true in an etymological one.19 The word habit is rooted in the Latin word habitus, which refers to “condition, demeanor, appearance, dress”—so, your inner and outer states of being. Meanwhile, the related habitare is “to live, dwell; stay, remain.” And habitus is the past participle of habere: “to have, hold, possess; wear; find oneself, be situated; consider, think, reason, have in mind; manage, keep” . . . which, when you think about it, is kind of an amazing old-school definition of showing up for yourself every damn day.
Chapter 5
Showing Up for Yourself When Shit Gets Hard
Showing up for yourself when times are good can be hard enough; showing up for yourself when you’re going through a rough patch can feel downright impossible. But, of course, that’s when you need to show up for yourself the most.
In late August 2015, my husband disappeared. Like, didn’t-hear-from-him-for-days, hadn’t-shown-up-for-work, I-called-the-police disappeared. After three days, he returned to our Brooklyn apartment. But the next weekend, after he’d spent a few days in the hospital and a couple more on our couch, he left home again—this time for good, though I wouldn’t know it was permanent until months later.
Not a single day that followed made any sense. The fact that this could happen—that our seemingly normal life together could fracture so catastrophically, so suddenly, and in such a jagged, unfamiliar way—was shocking, and it was that shock, along with the grief, that completely gutted me. As September turned to October, I lost my appetite and then 10 pounds; all the padding disappeared from my face and left me looking older. Then I began to feel so tender, it was like I no longer had any skin at all.
I knew on some level that I wasn’t OK—that nothing was OK—but I also didn’t know what to do with that. So I went to work each day like nothing was wrong (while also doing everything I could to save my marriage). My friends kept reminding me to practice self-care, a well-meaning comment that I found unintelligible. Like, a sheet mask or manicure wasn’t going to do a goddamn thing. The truth was, I was scared—of my dark, uncertain future but also of losing myself in my grief. I was afraid if I let myself lie down, even for a second, I wouldn’t be able to get back up.
But after three long months of white-knuckling my former life, it finally dawned on me on Thanksgiving: Oh . . . this is where I live now. That night, I surrendered. I bought myself two pairs of cozy pajamas—an outfit designed for the sole purpose of lying down. This was when I fully understood what it meant to show up for myself. It wasn’t about taking a bubble bath; it was admitting to myself, Things are bad, and they are going to be bad for a while. It was dressing not for the life I wanted, but for the life I had.
My new pajamas couldn’t save me, or my marriage, which would officially end two years later. But they helped. Because when you feel raw from head to toe, covering your body in something clean and soft and fresh and white feels very, very good. In this moment of trauma, I learned to dress myself by looking to how we dress all wounds. (One first aid website advises: A little bleeding is OK; it helps flush dirt and other contaminants out of the wound.) Wearing my winter-white pajamas and wrapped in my crisp and cozy all-white bedding, I was both the nurse and the patient. A little bleeding is OK.
It would be awhile before I felt true happiness again, but even on my worst days, putting on clean clothes always made me feel a little bit less bad, a little bit more human. And after months of feeling powerless, suiting up to face my unhappy reality gave me a tiny sense of control.
In that moment, I realized that things are good until they are not, and they are bad until they are not. So often, the bad times happen without any sort of warning. But I found it comforting to remember that the good periods also tend to happen without warning. This isn’t to say you can’t actively work toward improving bad situations; you can. But turning a corner, moving on, getting to the other side, whatever you want to call it, is a complicated thing that is often governed by, I don’t know . . . the wind? So instead of trying to change The Big Thing—which was fundamentally unchangeable—I just tried to make myself comfortable. I didn’t try to feel happy; I tried to feel less bad. I accepted beauty and joy wherever I could get it and trusted that these small things would help me hang on until the wind started blowing my way again. And you know what? They did.
This chapter is about doing what you can to feel a tiny bit better as you embark on your journey to the other side of whatever shit situation may befall you.
Let’s get started.
Dealing with Bad Times
“Normal” doesn’t really exist anymore.
When you’re going through a rough patch it can be incredibly disorienting to watch your “normal” life—your routine, your concentration, your favorite things, your stable moods—move somewhere beyond your reach, or disappear entirely. But this is, in large part, what loss is. Everything feels different because everything is different. You’re in a Bad Time; of course nothing will be normal.
I know how frustrating that can be. So not only is this shitty thing happening in my life, you might think. But now it’s affecting every area of my life??? Including the things I enjoy and care about and want to be doing? That’s . . . so fucking rude!!! And it IS fucking rude!!! Truly, one of the worst aspects of dealing with something traumatic or terrible is how big it is. Your stress and anger and grief aren’t restricted to when you’re engaging with the bad thing; you carry it with you everywhere. It might be harder to be good to your friends and your partner, to engage in your favorite hobbies, to excel at work . . . whatever. We all know this on some level, but when it’s your turn to go through something bad, it can still catch you by surprise. It’s important to allow yourself some time and space to grieve the loss of
your old “normal,” and to allow yourself to make peace with the fact that things have changed.
Don’t look down.
When you’re in crisis, there will likely be a lot of big, scary, stressful tasks on your path forward. There will also be a lot of hypothetical questions that make you want to throw up (e.g., “How will I ever introduce future dates to my children?” after a divorce). Thinking about the amount of work—logistical and emotional—that you’re going to have to do can be panic inducing. And if you let yourself think about the future too much, or try to game out of every possible outcome, you can quickly find yourself overwhelmed and frozen, unable to do anything, including basic survival tasks.
There will be a handful of top-level tasks that you truly need to handle ASAP without thinking too much about them. But once you’ve taken care of, say, hiring a lawyer or figuring out your options for taking time off work, there’s a limit to what you’ll be able to do next. In that moment, it’s very easy to spin out over of dozens of imagined “someday” scenarios that may or may not ever happen. It feels a bit like being on a tightrope that is stretched across a river of alligators, a big fiery pit, and God knows what else. The other side is so far away, you sort of don’t believe it exists.
The Art of Showing Up Page 11