There are two things you should know about me.
The first is that I do not believe in failed experiments.
The second is that even though I am — apparently — spectacularly bad at being two years old, I am quite gifted at one part of it: being disagreeable.
Yesterday I tried to be two, and it was, for the most part, a colossal disaster.
You know, in kind of an interesting way. Or I guess it would have been interesting, were it not for how completely miserable I was.
Anyway, no experiment is complete without a review of the hard and the good, so here we go.
The main thing that didn’t work, and why.
It turns out that in order to have the freedom and the playfulness and the delightfully hedonistic practice of following whim, you need some sort of loose structure in place.
You need things that hold the form.
Even if it isn’t routine or ritual, there needs to be something to hang the experiment on.
For one thing, you need a culture of you that holds itself.
And maybe also to have collected a bunch of information about that culture in the Book of You, so you can refer to it when you forget.
Another thing: two year olds need to be cared for. You need people or things in place that will do that for you.
Oh, and apparently it also helps to not be so crazy-burnt-out that you can’t even see straight. That makes figuring out what you want that much harder.
So here’s what happened.
I woke up in the wee hours with the worst headache in the entire world. Like the insides of my head being drilled.
Slept late and woke up confused.
Remembered to be a two year old in the bath.
Let the gentleman friend talk me into looking at some tax stuff because it was important. For future reference, this gets filed under Mistake.
Waited way too long to eat. Forgot there wasn’t heating at the Playground. Wore the wrong shoes. Left my phone at home.
So halfway through the afternoon I found myself walking down some random street, freezing cold, ravenously hungry, in inappropriate and hurty shoes, with no way to contact anyone and with nowhere to go.
Eventually I got home, crawled into bed and spent the afternoon alternating between feeling sorry for myself, and thinking about how ridiculous it was that I can’t even handle being two.
And here’s what I figured out.
Ahem. Two year olds have support. They have people who are tender and nurturing towards them.
I need some of that too.
Better structures allow for more freedom.
Also, renaming things always helps.
But you know? Sometimes you just won’t know what you want to do. There is no inclination to follow.
And when you’re exhausted and miserable and haven’t had a proper weekend since October, it’s really reasonable and okay that nothing pops into your head or strikes you as particularly appealing.
It’s really scary not knowing what you want.
I always imagine that if I have designated time for Not Working, that there will be so many things I can finally do.
Tramping as much as I want. Roll on the floor and do old Turkish lady yoga all day. Go for long walks.
But with the burnout and the tired and frustrated, there was seriously nothing that I wanted to do. But I also didn’t want to keep staring at the ceiling either.
The main thing that did work and why.
Well, first I needed my gentleman friend to ask me about 7000 things, all of which I said NO to, in good two year old form.
Do you want to re-read David Copperfield? No.
Do you want to go to a movie? No.
Do you want to take a nap? No.
Do you want to look at paint chips? No.
Do you want to eat pickles? No.
Do you want to be outside? No it’s cold outside!
Do you want to be inside? No it’s boring inside!
So the first win was just getting to say no to everything. And while it was frustrating in the moment, I did get to say NO way more than I normally do.
And then suddenly something came into my head that I did kind of want.
But it was really bizarre.
Following the trail.
I wanted M&Ms.
Here’s the thing. As you might know, I haven’t had sugar in eleven years.
So obviously, I didn’t want M&Ms because they’d have me bouncing off the walls. But I wanted something about them.
Tiny? Bright colors? Cheery? Sweet?
Then the shape made me think of Pente pieces.
And that in turn made me think of my favorite lamp.
And thinking of my favorite lamp made me think of taking a bath at Hiro‘s old place and how pretty the candles were.
Which made me think bath salts.
Do you want to go out and get more bath salts? YES!
And then!
Then when we were getting bath salts I wanted to have lilies and irises for the kitchen.
And when we got those, I wanted to eat spicy tater tots. Oh, yes. Because I was two, you see.
Except I also had whiskey because I’m not really two.
It was a neat progression.
I found this one tiny thing that appealed to me in this world of nothing is appealing right now because I’m burnt out and I hate everything now. One thing. Yay.
And following it resulted in all sorts of wants, gwishes and little sparkles of possible ideas of a something that could maybe someday who knows.
All experiments are useful.
Even when we’re really not happy with the result.
The next time I try on being two, I’m going to have more support and a better playpen. And a card deck of possibilities for when I get disconnected from what appeals to me.
Mainly I’m going to learn more about who I am when I am burnt-out, because there is stuff in there that I need.
And there will be bathsalts, of course.
And comment zen in the blanket fort.
We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. It’s a practice.
Things that are cool to talk about: experimenting, trying stuff, curiosity, play, your own practice. How much burn-out sucks.
Not cool: unsolicited advice. Which of course you wouldn’t do. I’m just mentioning this because it feels like I’m still in vulnerable mouse mode today.
I don’t share my experience to be told what to do, but because I think it’s useful to remember that we’re all in this process in one form or another.
Love all around. M&Ms to those who can have them, and bright colorful possibility-filled substitutes for the rest of us.
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Oh, Havi. Much love. I was hoping you’d let us know how this went, just sorry it didn’t go so well as you’d hoped. That is *very* understandable in the light of how exhausted you are. I love how you’ve dealt with it and extracted the learnings. The learnings themselves are very clever, but most of all I’m inspired that *you were able to do that* – to be detective-in-love when you were so low on emotional and physical resources, *about something that drained the little bit you had left*. Love! And so many sparklepoints I can’t even count!
Gwishing and praying for you to feel (what’s the opposite of burnt-out?) soon.
What is the opposite of ‘burnt out’, people? Extinguished in? Frozen in? Could it possibly be SNOWED IN? š
Reignited? Refuelled?
Anyway. Wishing you that. xxx
Okay. Wow. Thank you for this. Good luck with your process Havi!xxxx
I’m experimenting with my sleep patterns and the idea of waking up in the morning feeling refreshed and with less negative attitude and story telling about the day ahead.
I meditate in the evening to help chill me out. Fabulous – only this has worn off now.
I get myself to bed early (because I have not really slept for two days. This old pattern reoccuring again.)
And instead I practise just breathing into my belly and noticing my skin against the sheets and any sensations in my body. I ask my body to soften where it can. I practise owl eyes.
I imagine my breath traveling to its belly and I recreate all the things that remind me about being put to bed and feeling warm and cosy. I imagine my Mum tucking me in, I see my Grandad putting me to bed and saying a prayer, I focus on the feelings of warmth and cosiness that come with being safely tucked up in bed. But I am still watchful. Waiting for sleep.
I get some sleep. Yayyy. Not enough – but some hours.
I still feeling sluggish and unenthusiastic in the morning though.
I am going to practise this again tonight. Experiment, play with this, have hope even in the frustration!
What I need to remember is to play with trusting that even the lack of sleep serves some kind of purpose.
xxx
Oooo and I will totally run with the M and M’s.
Mwuah to you Havi!
x
my niecelet aged 3 and three quarters and the newphelet aged 1 and a bit have a pretty rigid routine. But I can see immediately how its all logical. Getting enough food into them on a regular basis so they don’t get cranky and they sleep through the night. Bathtime water play, bedimes stories milk bed a windown to sleep routine. All this ensures happier kiddies and parents.
Oh, so many ah-has! on this one! Thanks so much for sharing your two-year-old day!
As a mom of three boys, I often get myself cranked up with busyness that I can’t even consider when I want. I am that two-year-old who just wants to throw a tantrum.
Husband and I have been facing a major life change for the past few months, and it’s made us both stress balls. Last weekend, it hit me that I need to make a comfort book. I found myself thinking in the same M&M circles that you describe, trying to get past the initial impulse for sweetness to the actual hunger beneath.
Many, many thanks for describing the process and encouraging me to do the play for myself. Here’s to rest and playtime!
That not knowing what you want? The worst. The not knowing if it’s because you’re burned out/hungry/trapped in hurty shoes or if it’s an existential not knowing? Worser than the worst.
Because for me there’s that layer of dread and uncertainty that it’s not a temporary not knowing but a permanent or semi-permanent or prolonged state of not knowing.
It makes me appreciate being stuck, because when you’re stuck but know what you want, your compass is still pointing due north — you just have to figure out how to get through whatever obstacle is blocking your way. That’s about a good thing about being stuck.
But when the needle on the compass is having convulsions? And you have no clue what you want? Ugh.
That existential not knowing, that total severing of self from self, is horrendous. Shudder.
What a wonderful experiment!
And hopefully next time you are 2 nobody shows you tax stuff. They just show you Jax.
That is fantastic that you did that experiment. Bath salts, ahoy!!!!! Food. Sleep. Saying no no no no no! I’d say it was a resounding success! Albeit one that yielded, er, different sorts of information and experience than you’d sought out?
Irises and lilies? Wow. Why do I never think of these flowers when I’m flower shopping???? Hmmmmmmm.
XOXOX
M and P
I’m sorry it did not go as you planned, but it was a very good learning experience, as most such things are, yes?
I also think that we don’t credit kids with being unhappy, because of their short attention spans. But even two year olds can have a lot of life stress weighing them down, even if their naturally curious and transitive nature hides it from the adults. I think the most important part of your story to me is the willingness to just follow those transitions when they happen, and roll with them. M&Ms to bath salts!
::::kbs
Hugs, Havi, and so much love!
My experiment of being a four-month-old didn’t go quite as I’d hoped, either. I had wanted to take in everything and everyone around me in a very gentle, receptive, in-the-moment kind of way, and that did happen. I’d also wanted to feel more awake in the moment, seeing the world through fresh eyes and experiencing its beauty, but what very quickly happened was that I fell asleep. I’m sure I needed the sleep, but…hmmm. I think I’ll try this again when I can really devote a whole day to the game, and see what happens after I’ve slept enough and feel ready, in body and mind, to be awake.
Havi,
I am so glad you found the good in your experiment.
I wish you many hugs, no headaches, and at least a good night of sleep.
What I’m taking away from this is the idea of a playpen. A playpen is what I need for all play days, even play days when I’m an age other than two. Without my playpen, the endless possibilities overwhelm, and turn into shoulds, and then into great waves of ennui that I don’t even feel entitled to be feeling, dammit!
So yes. Playpens for all. Or whatever sort of structure supports. As well as M&Ms, or confetti, or multicolored marbles. Or all of it at once.
That’s what it is!
I have been trying to figure out why nothing feels right lately, why I want to do things, but there isn’t any colour to it at all… you described it perfectly…
I’m experiencing the feeling of “burnt out”, of not being taken care of or caring for myself or what I truely need to heal…
Okay. So, I’ve been thinking more about this. I think you did the two year old thing exactly perfectly. Perfectly.
And, I wish I had been there to give hungry hurtie feeted you a hug and a ride to food shelter. This is also perfectly two year oldish. Ugh. But, the bath salts and lowers turn around? That was you rockin the two year old fab!
It reminded me that I need to be open to being hungry and having hurty feet and then still be open to a turnaround a moment later.
Thanks as always for letting us peek into your process.
M
I agree with Mari, grumpy shoes and hungryness and not knowing what you want is FABULOUS two years old stuff, even though (of course) it is wickedly not fun. Definitely not the good part of being two. And this is why we throw tantrums! I too am sorry you didn’t have what most two years old do, the person with the bag full of snacks who will carry you, though it sounds like your gentleman friend did a good job on speaking soothingly to you until you could figure things out (which is the other important parent-type duty).
Love how the m&ms reminded you of Pente — lamp — bath — bath salts. Usually I think of a sweets craving as a pretty simple need for sweetness or distraction; it had never occurred to me to let my mind wander and figure out if the specific sweet thing is really a clue to the actual thing that I want. Neat!
xo.
Havi,
Thanks so much for writing about yesterday and today. I wish you a much better two-year-old-day next time.
And thanks especially for the reminders about the right shoes, and fresh flowers. I’m going to get some today!
ooh yes wanted to come back I was thinking on the bus about this blog – yes Havi you inspire thinking on busses. Kimboosan has touched on this – being a child does have a lot of stress involved. I really really would never go back for that reason because the hideous thing about being a child is that you have no control over where it comes from no agency in dealing with it. In fact my parents were seeing my neicelet last week who apparently threw a world record tantrum I suspect because she was upset because her mom was away for a few days and its been a hard year with a succesion of revolving care givers and a small brother (apparently she asked a few months ago when he was ‘going back’!)
Oh honey, that sounds rough. Can I get you a cup of tea? Or some toast? Hugs. Glad you got some nice bath salts and flowers and insights in the end to balance it out a bit.
Iāve been thinking lately in a swirly disorganised way about ācultureā, and how to create it. (Which always sort of makes me think of yoghurt but you know what I mean.)
About how to create it. Build it, support it, encourage it. In business. In a team. In a family. In one’s LIFE.
A set of qualities and expectations and self-reinforcing … habits … that support and bring out the best of the business / team / family / other entity. That reveal and ALLOW the soul of it to emerge in the best form possible.
Like an apple tree which could get hit with black-spot or coddling moth but hopefully youāve got a culture (ecology?) around it that provides the right mix of sunshine, rain, fertilizer, mulch, companion plants, bees, ladybugs and worms to minimise damage and maximise health and harvest and deliciousness.
At the moment Iām trying to think about how to create a set of systems in my day-to-day routine that create that supportive, self-sustaining, apple-growing culture around me and my LIFE.
Because I concur with your experience that without a āsomethingā to hold the form, things go awry despite the best of intentions. Oh man, do I know how to feel crappy that I have WASTED what time I have been given! (I have been to too many funerals recently). (Not that itās a waste if I learn from it, quite right. #mustgetbetteratthisbit. Luckily I also believe in quantum and get another go at this life a million times over.)
So, yes. Building that āsomethingā that will hold the culture of my life. Which I am still de/re-fining. (ooh etymology: āfinā- boundaries, end points, etc…)
So anyway, Iām grateful that Iāve got such a well of resources here at the good ship FS. And that you share.
Thanks lovey.
xx
As the mother of a 2-year-old, I can confirm that they do have excellent support systems. Around-the-clock, non-stop support systems.
Also, they don’t like to wear pants. Nudity is apparently HUGE with 2-year-olds. š
De-lurking to say that I love your two-year-old day, even if it was a “disaster.” I should create more of those kinds of disasters in my own life.
I have two greyhounds. I’ve noticed that they have a tendency to not move. All day long. They don’t read or send text messages or watch TV or check emails. They’re also not necessarily asleep. They’re just there. Present. Being there. When I get super duper burned out, I take a Greyhound Day and just lay around with the dogs. It’s sort of like relaxing minus the constant distractions I use to interrupt myself when I’m “relaxing” the normal way. Total reset button for my burnout.
Also, the Rose City Rollers = LOVE, and you are my favorite for sponsoring them.
ooh a grayhound day! when I was struggling with the idea of rest when I developed ME my cat Hodge was my napping mentor.
card deck of possibilities! Brilliant!
Tater tots & whiskey FTW!
Real two-year-olds, as has been observed, have a lot of really hard and no-fun days too. I like how Jesse put it.
I want a day of being a really self-indulgent 45 year old. I already get those, I just want a few more of them.