Catching Your Breath

by Steve Austin

  I wonder how we might better manage our response to people and situations if we viewed our emotions as messengers rather than allowing them to control us. We say things like, “I feel stressed.” Or, “I feel overwhelmed.” But what’s beneath the feeling? What’s causing the inner turmoil? Is it fear of the future? Is there an actual untreated psychiatric diagnosis? Is it anger? Disappointment? Is it lack of sleep? Is low blood sugar? (Come on, don’t tell me I’m the only one who loses it when I get hangry!)

  What would happen if we permitted ourselves to be human? Notice that I didn’t say “permitted ourselves to expect the whole world to stop while we grieve.” And it’s not okay to drown yourself in numbing behaviors and addictions. Neither of those are healthy options. But we certainly have the right to sit in the midst of suffering and work through the feelings in healthy ways.

  We don’t have to toughen up. We don’t have to pretend we aren’t crying. We don’t have to “be a man.” Your emotions belong to you—our emotions belong to each of us. The trick to this, and to all of life, is learning how to show up where we need to when we don’t feel up. To do the tasks we have to do, based on the roles and responsibilities we have, without ignoring our emotional needs in the process.

  It’s all a balancing act. Lose control and allow your emotions to run rampant? You risk losing your job or the respect of those who depend on you. Stuff your feelings, pretend nothing is wrong, and push through the pain, full steam ahead? Eventually, you’ll implode, potentially causing even more harm to yourself and others. The key is being kind to yourself, honest with the people in your inner circle who need to know what’s going on, and working through whatever trials you face with self-compassion.

  In grief, each day is different. To embrace the tension of my grandpa’s last days on earth, I had to get quiet, put down the phone, and intentionally walk away from empty busyness that kept me from being present with my family. Now, I practice mindfulness by asking myself what I need today. If I have a big meeting at work that I cannot miss without putting my job in jeopardy, I may choose not to visit my grandfather before work. I know that doing so would zap all of my energy, productivity, and attention. The wise choice would be to visit him after the meeting instead. On the flip side, if my grandfather has taken a turn for the worst, I have to remind myself that I always have choices. There may be consequences if I miss the staff meeting, but only I can decide which is the right choice for me at any given moment. Grief, like life, is complicated. I can’t stop my granddad from dying, but I can keep it from destroying me.

  When we feel about as strong as an eggshell, the first courageous thing we can do is to ask for help. Finding a safe person means reaching down deep into our souls and mustering the courage to connect with someone we trust. Someone who makes us feel valued, seen, and heard. Whether it’s a family member, a friend, or an unbiased professional, we need someone to help us navigate life.

  Effective or Efficient?

  In my work with people moving from chaos to calm, I have noticed a big misunderstanding between the words “effective” and “efficient.” “Effective” feels much better than “efficient,” right? Efficient feels impersonal—robotic even. But I think most of us say effective when we mean efficient. Why? Because we’ve bought into the lie that says to make the most substantial impact we must do more than anyone else, even though we all have the same number of hours in a day.

  Beat the competition.

  Buy the bigger house.

  Lease the sports car.

  Land the new promotion.

  Slay the dragon.

  But do you know the secret to living your most efficient life? Slow down.

  I know, it makes no sense, right? You want me to teach you to how to increase your focus. You want one quick tip to better productivity.

  Here it is—slow down.

  An agriculture magazine shared this story:

  A woodsman was once asked, “What would you do if you had just five minutes to chop down a tree?” He answered, “I would spend the first two and a half minutes sharpening my axe.” 26

  If we never slow down enough to “sharpen the axe,” the blade loses its edge. It takes more and more energy to do the same amount of work because the axe isn’t in top condition. It’s worn out, dull, and eventually becomes useless. That’s why it’s more efficient—and more effective—to slow down, rest, and sharpen the axe.

  There are plenty of books on all the ways to speed up and do more. If that’s what you’re looking for, go read those. This is a book about how to be the healthiest human you can. And in order to do that, you’ve got to stop expecting yourself to be a machine.

  Slow down. I don’t mean stop. I don’t mean you have to sit and watch everyone pass you by, but I do know that, as a human, you can’t keep pushing forever. You can’t keep going without refilling and expect not to face burnout.

  If you’re overwhelmed today, hear me: it’s okay to slow down. When you are drowning, the best advice I can give you is to cast off the things that feel too heavy. Let go of the unrealistic expectations. Stop running and give yourself time to breathe.

  It doesn’t matter who you are. A mother of three who is desperate to lose weight? A pastor whose congregation has shrunk from 300 to 30? An entrepreneur bogged down by the business side of things when all you want is to serve people? A college student crushed by the weight of anxiety and a heavy class load? Whatever the case, please don’t wait until you’re entirely overwhelmed before you do something about it.

  My advice? Slow down.

  “But, how?!”

  Get a piece of paper and a pen. Ready?

  Make three columns:

  What I have to do.

  What I feel pressured to do, but don’t want to do.

  What I want to do.

  Now, before we look at what goes in these columns, take a deep breath. Are you ready to get gut-level honest about all the things that keep you moving too fast?

  No? Then come back later. Don’t waste your ink.

  Yes? Then, after you read the instructions for each column, start writing. Tell me everything.

  Once you’ve put it all down on paper, take another deep breath, hold it for a few seconds, and slowly release.

  What I have to do

  This column is for things you cannot function without. If you don’t work, you cannot pay your power bill, you cannot cook supper, and you cannot feed your children. So you have to work.

  But do you have to work 80 hours per week? Can you pay the bills by only working 40–50? Get honest. What do you really have to do?

  Examples:

  Take care of my family.

  Eat.

  Sleep.

  Pay the bills.

  What I feel pressured to do, but don’t want to do

  This column is likely overflowing with things you don’t actually want to do, but feel stuck with. If you’re like most people (including me), you may have run out of space for everything you would love to get off your plate.

  This is where you have to get nekkid. This list can be challenging to let go of because these things often come from our own internal struggle with fear, shame, and guilt. Some of the things in column two are perfectly harmless, but are they adding to your sense of calm or of chaos? Only you can answer this question. There’s nothing wrong with having a clean house, a social life, and a strong sense of religious tradition. Unless those pressures aren’t healthy for you. It’s all about your motivation.

  Examples:

  Going out with coworkers for drinks every Thursday.

  Teaching Sunday School again this year.

  Homeschooling the kids.

  Coaching your kid’s Little League team.

  Having a perfectly clean house.

  Holding onto the religious traditions of my family/childhood.


  What I want to do

  This is one sad column. For a lot of us, this is where dreams go to die (cue the sad trombone). Most of us put off what we really want while we fill our schedules with what we feel pressured to do. Sure, we’ll do it someday: after we graduate, get married, get promoted, have kids, after the kids start school, after the kids finish school, after retirement. Before long, we’ve missed decades and all we have left to look forward to is crossword puzzles, daytime television, and AARP discounts.

  Even though we sincerely want to do these things, we put them off, telling ourselves to wait for more money or time. But time is a commodity we are constantly losing. We’ll never have more than we do right now. How’s that for encouragement?

  And when it comes to money, maybe we just need to get creative. If we’re honest, there are probably ways to trim budget so we can do what makes us come alive. We can probably work on that passion project and make a little side money.

  Examples:

  Take the family on a dream vacation.

  Renew your vows.

  Run a marathon.

  Adopt a baby.

  Finish the degree.

  Write the book.

  Visit Europe.

  Form a non-profit.

  Record an album.

  Start a podcast.

  Where do I even begin?

  Okay, you’ve got three lists now. Did ya shuck down and get nekkid? Were you gut-level honest with yourself? Good job. Take a deep breath.

  No, really; take a deep breath. This is hard work.

  You might feel better already, seeing what your real priorities are and what you really don’t want to do. Or you might feel more overwhelmed and wonder where to even start with all of this. How do you take this information and use it to slow down?

  The answer is different for everyone. I think the simplest place to start is by answering this question: what can you take off your plate today to give yourself more space to breathe and just be?

  It’s probably going to be something from your second column. Start by taking off some of the internal pressure. Now that you recognize things in this column aren’t essential, what are you willing to cross off? You might feel a little guilty at first or even disappoint someone, but it will move you toward calm and away from chaos.

  Once you’ve eliminated a few things, look at the three lists we just created, and think about how to prioritize your responsibilities and passions. Find a balance to both working and living.

  Remember when I said you can find creative ways to live your passion and make a little money on the side? That’s exactly what this book is for me. I’m no full-time writer. Sure, I’d love to be, but right now, I spend thirty hours a week as a sign language interpreter because it pays my bills and gives me a little free time to do what I love. Time and money are most people’s excuse for slowly falling asleep while they are wide-ass awake; don’t do it.

  Getting nekkid about your needs and wants is a powerful way to prioritize your life. Not only will you be able to slow down and live your truth, but you’ll also begin to enjoy yourself. And, since you’ll leave plenty of time open to sharpen your axe, you’ll find increased efficiency in the things that matter most, plus more creativity, confidence, and calm in every area of your life.

  Finally, now that you’ve examined and re-established priorities, think about your responsibilities. When it comes to all the things you truly have to do, set some boundaries and don’t budge. There will always be more work to do—more paperwork, more phone calls, more email. But you don’t have to keep the same pace anymore. You can pursue those dreams and enjoy your life. Because the only way to create the life you’ve always wanted is to slow down.

  Nine:

  Quiet AF

  If we were not so single-minded

  about keeping our lives moving,

  and for once could do nothing,

  perhaps a huge silence

  might interrupt this sadness

  of never understanding ourselves

  and of threatening ourselves with death.

  Perhaps the earth can teach us

  as when everything seems dead

  and later proves to be alive.27

  —Pablo Neruda

  On the final day of our beach getaway, my wife offered to whisk the children off on an adventure, giving me four uninterrupted hours to write. When someone offers the gift of quiet, you take it. For most of us, it doesn’t come often enough. (You may have to ask for that time, too. It’s your right and responsibility to speak up and say what you need.)

  Sure, I could have binge-watched my latest TV addiction or drowned in the neverending sea of social media, but none of that is stillness. And I know that soon enough, these children, whom I adore, will return with their needs and laughter and “help me!” and giggles and “Daddy, could you...?” and running through the middle of the living room. So I settled in.

  There’s a little pine thicket near the back porch that can’t be very old; the young trees rocked to the rhythm of the rain that tap danced down the stairs like Gene Kelly. Fifty yards away, the sea oats swayed in the breeze, bidding me to come and follow suit, as the wind sang its siren song and my coffee (or was it whiskey?) warmed my bones.

  Two-hundred-forty minutes ticked by in less than a blink. My kids were back in all their noisy, messy glory. But that much-needed stillness was so good for my soul.

  It’s good for yours, too. So make it a priority to cultivate quiet every chance you get. Whether that means paying for a babysitter or creating a “kid swap” with neighbors and friends, figure out a way to make it work. If you’re in a relationship, rotate who keeps the kids and give your partner a couple of hours of quiet. Whatever you do to cultivate calm, always say “thank you” for the gift of stillness. And be intentional with every calm moment you’re given. It is priceless.

  Most of us don’t slow down long enough to catch our breath. We’re always running because we’ve bought into the lie that our worth is determined by what we do and how much we produce. But the truth is that our worth is found in who we are. We run here and there, so focused on our checklists that we forget the most basic of human functions: breathing! Taking time to just breathe looks different for everyone, but could include meditation, contemplation, prayer, yoga, fishing, or a simple walk around the block.

  One of the biggest mistakes people make on the journey from chaos to calm is trying to do everything at once. They want to change their diet, exercise, meditate, get a life coach, and start journaling on day one. And the best advice I can give you is to take a deep breath, take it one step at a time, and, like we talked about in the last chapter, slow down. Don’t try to get from point A to point Z today. Just take a deep breath and the first step.

  Creating space

  When I was growing up, my dad always had a massive garden. Even though we lived in a typical suburban neighborhood, each summer, the garden took up half the backyard. But you never heard us complain—fried okra, fresh from the garden? Are you kidding me? Heaven on a plate! Mama would dump them out of the deep fryer onto paper towels to sop up the grease while my brothers and I fought over who would sample that garden goodness first. Then there were green beans, yellow squash, tomatoes, and even a watermelon or two.

  But before we could enjoy those wonderful fresh vegetables, Dad had to clear a plot. And before the beans or the squash ever poked their little green heads up out of the ground, Dad would be down on his hands and knees, pulling weeds. Stubborn and fast-growing, they spread like wildfire. “You have to stay on top of the weeds,” he’d say, “or they will choke out the good stuff before it ever takes root.

  Creating something life-giving is not for the faint at heart. My dad has always been the hardest-working man I know, so it makes sense that he’d find pleasure in doing something as difficult and time-consuming as growing and m
aintaining a garden. For most of us, creating space in our lives feels like a lot of work. Cultivating a life of stillness begins by clearing a plot, too.

  A Fig Tree…Without Figs?

  There’s a story in the Bible about a tenant farmer with a fig tree that produced no figs (Luke 13:5-9, MSG). Lame, right? What good is a fruit tree without any fruit? After three years of producing no figs, the landowner was ready to cut it down. But the farmer begged the landowner to give him one more year to see if he could get it to produce fruit. The landowner gave in, so the farmer cleared around the roots of the tree and spread manure all around.

  This story is messy and beautiful for two reasons:

  The gardener has compassion on the fruitless tree and asks for more time to cultivate it. He knew it could live up to its purpose, given a little more time and care.

  Poop produces. Sure, it stinks and makes a big mess—it’s nothing more than the waste of an animal—but sometimes the biggest mess yields the greatest growth.

  I’ve never grown a garden of my own, but every six months or so, my wife and I spend a weekend morning purging excess stuff from our home. Decluttering is time-consuming and just plain annoying. And much like weeding my dad’s garden, it’s one of those tasks you have to stay on top of, otherwise the place gets overgrown with things that don’t matter. One of the perks of living in a two-bedroom townhouse is that the stuff never really has a chance to pile up for too long. Because we occupy such a tiny living space, we simply cannot store anything we don’t need.

  No matter what my role—life coach, pastor, author, or teacher—I love helping people create more space in their lives. Whether we know it or not, most of us want more room for things that nourish us. People will usually say something like, “I’d like more time,” but what they mean is, “I’d like more time with the good stuff of life.” We want time and space to do the things we’re passionate about with the people we love. So how do we guarantee this will happen in our lives? It all starts with clearing a plot.