I have been having lots of long talks with Cairene about exhaustion. And the consequences of exhaustion.
Like how all the stupidest and most regrettable things I have ever done (see: sneaking into self-forgiveness) all end up being related to how ridiculously little sleep I was running on at the time.
And how most of the people I know, most of the time, are in a state of nearly permanent depletion. Including me, of course.
In fact, most people I know are so used to running on empty that it isn’t even that noticeable.
You only recognize it when you’ve gone beyond depletion. Past whatever reserves were left. When it’s the full-on falling-apart everything-must-crash time.
So yeah. I’ve been doing a lot of interacting with the various pieces and elements. As you know.
And today I need to tell you about the hotel.
When I reach a state of worn-out, I can’t really make decisions.
I definitely can’t make the kind of decisions that support slightly-future-me.
That’s why I’m always practicing. Trying to be — and become — the person who can take care of her.
We have long conversations where I ask her questions about what she knows and what she needs.
I do stone-skippings. I plant presents for her, and make notes about what she likes.
I consult the Book of Me. And the Dammit List.
Basically I’m trying to avoid situations where she’ll be worn out. And if she is worn out, I want her to not have to make hard decisions.
It’s not letting future me get into the wrong kind of shenanigans.
Cairene said something super crazy smart about how the tired mind is pretty much always going to decide wrong. Or it will choose the things that don’t help.
So the idea behind all this conscious entry and preparing for the voyage that I am always talking about is basically this:
Set stuff up so that there aren’t any of the kind of choices that are going to be stupid and terrible.
Don’t offer up any of those things that take you away from yourself as possible options.
Set it up.
So then we were talking about how at fancypants hotels they slip that sheet under the door telling you about all the things happening the next day.
You get to pore over all the stuff there is to do. And even if you don’t do any of it, your choices are still guided into the same general pathways. Do I want to do something restful? Something fun? Something entertaining?
And so Hotel Playgroundia was born.
Hotel Playgroundia is part-imaginary and part-not.
It’s the idea of the place that I go to chill. It exists to take care of me. And to remind me to take care of me, if that makes sense.
It’s also what I’m calling the new extra-cozy loft-bed-blanket-fort deal in my Pirate Queen quarters at the Playground. Which also doubles (metaphorically) as my Dressing Room.
In the hotel room there’s a guidebook.
It’s that kind of binder that hotels have (a bit like the PLUM, the Playground User Manual).
It’s all about how things need to work when nothing is working.
There’s a page about food options.
About movement classes and old Turkish lady yoga.
Where and when you can get a massage. What you need for the pool.
Room service options. The mini-bar. Entertainment choices.
Emergency services (what to do when you freak out and fall apart).
That’s what I did today.
I played with magic markers and construction paper.
And stickers.
I made eight very colorful pages.
While having fits of giggles resulting from my attempts to invoke cliched hotel copywriting:
“At Hotel Playgroundia, we are honored to provide a variety of nourishing snacking selections…”
“Our plentiful and varied entertainment options include an exciting assortment of books that are already on your iPhone…”
But it’s all there so that I don’t have to decide.
Or if I get to the point of Beyond Tired, the only decisions I can make are between X thing-that-is-supportive and Y, that thing-that-is-also-supportive.
I won’t be able to choose the things that hurt me because they won’t be available options at the hotel.
And if it doesn’t work, I’ll play with it some more.
That I’ll get tired and over-tired is a given. Being alive involves playing at the edges and discovering what my boundaries and limitations are, sometimes the hard way.
But my gwish is that the coping mechanisms I’m putting in place will bring my attention back to being cared for.
That way, instead of constantly trying to make my way back from beyond exhausted, I can eventually find out what it’s like to live in a state of 90% preventative and 10% recovery. And not the other way around.
Play with me!
Self-practice and the giant communal and commenting blanket fort.
There was kind of a lot packed in here today.
Probably because I just taught the Art of Embarking on Monday, and then on Toozday I did a class for my Kitchen Table program on flow, depletion and recovery. So I’m kind of swimming in this stuff right now.
Here’s are some things we could possibly mess around with today:
- Identifying the signs of oh whoops, in depletion again. Obviously, the People Vary rule holds true here. But what are yours? How do you know when you’re there?
- What types of things would your hotel guidebook include?
- What would you-from-a-few-weeks-from-now love to have in [his/her/your-favorite-pronoun’s] hotel?
Usual comment zen applies. We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. We take responsibility for what’s ours, we let other people have what’s theirs. We don’t give advice. We’re supportive and welcoming. Everyone belongs. We play.
Confidential to [redacted] — past-me would like to add that she does not at all regret you-related-decisions of a decade ago, extreme lack of sleep be damned. Though she apologizes for obviously-stupid other you-related-decisions that happened the next year. For the record.
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Hi Havi,
my signs of depletion are:
I start screaming at my kids, have zero tolerance for nothing
I feel like I’m getting ill
I only focus on the negative things happening and completely disregard the positive things
I can’t take decisions, not even what to eat
My hotel guide book would include a giant screaming oversized sign “open if desperate”
Inside would read: Go to bed NOW except something has to be done without which you cannot survive next morning.
Future me would love fresh food served to my room and a long massage provided at wish…
This is so timely. My whole famly is on a new schedule which has us all exhausted and depleted. So far we’;ve made it work, but this week–week 3–some of the cracks in the system started showing.
Things that have already helped:
-The front of the V. when i get home with kids and its the “2.5 hours til bedtime endurance race of hell and doom”, i ask who can coem to the front. All the aspects are happy to debate and the one who moves forward does a great job
-knowing that sometimes the right answer to the above is my husband. But wait, he’s not an aspect of my personality–we’re going to have t use Our OWrds and Outdoor Voice! and then he takes point and i get to Silent Retreat and omg it’s better
-picking battles. packing lunch is necessary. making the bed, not so much
-just pull out the markers and draw for awhile
-go to bed! you really need to watch another episode of True Blood?
-noteboks with notes and dayplanner with things on it, and stickers to illustrate it’s anot all work work work.
-realizing that benign neglect is the best thing of all. the kids are doing better on their own, because they must. i’m not fretting over the distance between me and K, because having no time to deal with the distance
means we can both silent retreat and that just may be a better idea than trying to talk while we’re both hurt and triggered.
-turkey sandwiches on sourdogh with avocado and red onion.
Unfortunately if I am depleted, I find it very hard to fall asleep. I think my body goes into survival mode and sleeping is bad because something could attack. So doing things that make me feel safe and relaxed are good. A hot bath and comfort food. And then reminding myself that I don’t have to sleep just rest.
When depleted I am irritable, sad, clumsy and start crying unexpectedly. It’s good to know this, because then I don’t start faulting other people for my state. It’s also always a good idea to check the calendar for my hormone cycle.
This is completely brilliant. Thank you.
Depletion signs: Ooh I know these very well. When snappish and cold become my only means of communication. Skin becomes extra sensitive. Joints and muscles recover very slower from physical work. Chronic pain flares. Dwelling on the past out of a general sense of gloom and doooooooooooom. All thoughts of the future become awful awful awful.
Repletion options: enforce the no-screens-for-two-hours-before-bedtime rule. Mandate comfortable pants after coming home from work! Comfy pants + apple snack is always a good idea. Turn the radio off during the drive home and think about how I’d like my evening time to be. Sing songs. Listen to my stomach when eating dinner so I’m not nursing an overfull feeling all night; trust that evening snack can help later on if needed. Go outside for some fresh air. Warm baths with lavender oil. Baths in general, getting into one with the little llama, so we can play in the water together. Pack the next day’s lunch. Wash *just* enough dishes so the sink and my favorite breakfast skillet are ready for the next morning. Go to bed in the 9 o’clock hour, or as soon as Penny is asleep, even though it feels ridiculously early.
In super emergency mode: schedule a massage. Take a mental health day at home alone to sleep and recover. Discover where/how I can receive help, and ask for it. Revisit favorite Havi entries. Read a book that takes me out of myself in a good way, or watch a favorite movie. Turn on all the lights. Turn up the heat. Be extravagant within the home. Wear all my favorite colors at once.
(Not that many of these things can’t be everyday practices, but in emergency depletion mode, I default to the believing I can only rest while Hungry Cold Alone Hopeless etc etc. Some of my practices are around gently easing out of that state into a more receptive state.)
Oh, depletion. I know when I’m depleted because I’m overwhelmed. I feel like I don’t have the energy I need to simply take care of me. Which means I also don’t have the energy to support and show up for the people I love to support and show up for. And I don’t have the energy to dream big and work from a place of passion. I don’t have the energy for curiosity, which is vital for me.
My version of the Hotel book would be focused on food – a plan, a manual – a thing that makes it so I don’t have to make self-care decisions on a depleted brain. My most important self-care decisions have to do with food. It fuels everything else.
One section would be a Gearing Up section – if I have a stressful time or big thing on the horizon, it would help me do the shopping and organizing and prep I need to do *before* I’m too busy to do it. It’s easier to eat the good things when they are already here. It would also remind me to clean the kitchen and make it a welcoming place of nourishment, not a place with chores.
Another section would be a Mix-and-Match section. My thoughtfully-created Gearing Up section would be comprised of foods I can easily mix-and-match, like a good wardrobe I suppose. One that would still enable the variety I crave without making it hard to manage. It would include some of my favorite crazy salad recipes, because when I’m depleted I can’t remember them.
The last section would be Snacks and Treats. Making sure I’m well-stocked on nuts and interesting bits so I can make trail mix. And tea. These could be portable, because often the crazy big things coincide with things away from home.
And maybe there would be a Cautionary Tales section. Like…stay away from that second glass of wine.
When I am depleted, I tend to feel cross at Atlas for something which normally makes me laugh, I am extra-emotional, extra-worried/anxious, and I feel very “woe is me, nothing works, will ever work, I am doomed ..”
Funny how the “woe is me” part being linked to depletion is so clear when I am out of it, and when I am in it, it just feels true and clearly not related to anything else at all.
Great post, THANKS!
My signs of depletion are:
Overwhelm. Everything that I have coming up in the near and far future seems to roll into a single ball and then towards me and I don’t know how to catch it. Everything seems too much. I can cope with work but I don’t have energy for me or for my husband or for friends. My back hurts and I ignore my yoga practice. Every day is bad hair day. Skin looks dry and greyish.
My hotel guide book would certainly include:
Entering your room automatically activates the button “hermit mode” and internet access and landline and mobile phone connections will immediately be out of order. We assure you that nobody from the outside world is offended when he or she does not hear from you during your stay.
My signs of depletion are:
1) craving sugar
2) insomnia (OH so helpful)
My hotel guidebook would include:
1) combination to the minibar stocked with water, fresh bread, butter, cold roast beef with horseradish, salad, and an old-vine zinfandel
2) map to the nearby secret hideaway where I can look at the ocean, put my bare feet on the Earth, and not see (or hear) another blessed human being for a couple of hours
Me-a-few-weeks-from-now would love to have:
1) the first three quarters’ bookkeeping done so I can have a meaningful conversation with DH about next year’s budget and calendar
2) worked back up to ten solid plank push-ups
What a lovely lovely post.
THE STORY
Following last week’s Blanket Fort Week, I have been practicing quietness and calm and enjoying sleep. And of course I run into obstacles, ehm monsters all the time who push me to work.
And today I want to say no to the monsters.
We’ll have a quiet mediation about it later.
Yes we should work.
But the reason I am resting is because I had been pushing myself beyond my limits for well over two years. Because I need recovery if I am to get back into a happy mental shape. (monster conversation continues elsewhere)
This post is very helpful.
I remember that book in a hotel. It was so rich, filled with pictures and ideas. We did none of them and yet that book had set the tone of our stay.
My cycle of depletion is pretty long these days.
While I can manage my energy levels just sufficiently not to fall apart on a day-by-day basis, I start these long ambitious projects that ultimately chip away at my energy and optimism.
THE SIGNS
When I am depleted, I get negative about the future and the past. I think I made all the wrong chocies and will continue to do so. I have no energy, nothing to share. If I am by myself, I will fall into depression. If I am with others, I have less to give and to share than usual. I might snap or be unkind. That makes me sad, so sad. I want nothing but good things for my people and my family. But when my borders have been invaded too frequently I just can’t fight of the sad.
THE HOTEL GUIDE BOOK
The hotel guide book for me would include a list of really good books to read in bed. Books that whisper in your ears. Books about high society girls and late night midnight encounters.
It would also point to my stock of comfy at-home-hiding-clothes.
And include a list of uplisting meditations and thoughts to listen to (Leonie’s World Biggest Summit!)
There would definitely be inspirational picture-collages of quiet places.
There would be uplifting quotes from strong and wise and quiet and vulnerable and fun people.
The book would have soothing colors and be made of the best paper. Detail is important.
Oh and it has a STACK of permission slips. and easy journaling calming fill-in-forms & a way to file them away immediately (to avoid more stress about losing words).
It might just be a Hotel Word Book. 🙂
ME-A-FEW-WEEKS-FROM-NOW…
… would be grateful I had planned weeks at home.
… would enjoy working on the project folders I set up for her. would love the structure I had thought out for it.
… would love that i had set apart writing time for her.
… is likely to be starting regrouping & creativity exercizes
… will still love being in a small circle of people rather than in a wise circle
… is enjoying books immensely
… would love some permission slips
Oh Havi this is so much fun.
Easy! Play! Simplicity!
How marvelous that this post should happen to appear when I’m doing my best to make it through the day on only three hours’ sleep the night before! What are the odds? (Appallingly high, actually. Oof. Moving on…)
When I am depleted, my capacity is even less than the less than I think it is, if you follow me. Things are heavier — metaphorically, yes, but also physically, it’s just so much harder to lift anything, to propel my body up a flight of stairs, etc. I move more slowly. I cry more easily. I feel very needy, which expresses itself either as a gnawing hunger to be held and caressed and told that I’m good, or as a desire to be still and silent and alone and unmoving.
I worry more, when I’m depleted. I get more anxious and controlling, probably because deep down I know I don’t have the energy to control anything, and at the same time it’s hard to find the perspective to remember that I don’t have to control things.
My hotel guidebook (my own hotel! what a lovely idea!) would include a menu of delicious, comforting and healthy things to eat and drink, easily accessible and inviting, so that depleted-me wouldn’t feel the need to start grabbing random junk foods. There would be a list of interesting, quirky, arty little shops and cafes for me to explore — bookstores with comfy chairs, coffee houses and tea rooms with intriguing music. In my hotel room, I’d have a big, soft bed, with plenty of room to stretch out or to cuddle with someone, and I’d have access to lots of good movies. And there would be books. Of course. And an amazing outdoor space in which to do Shiva Nata under the stars: a beach, a forest, a secret garden.
Future Me would love to have the day off on Halloween/Samhain — not a re-scheduling of that day’s work, but a break from the work. A holiday. Can I give her this? I’d like to try.
Oh Havi, I am so impressed with how many supersmart and creative ideas you have to deal with the process of dealing with life… *heartclaps*
Depletion!: I kid you not, when I’m depleted my stuff-what-runs-on-electricity doesn’t work right. Sometimes it’ll fritz altogether. At the worst of the worst, I once set a computer on fire *while it was turned off.* Additionally, I get much more sensitive to noise and to crowds. I don’t have a constant in regards to overly doormat-ish or irritable & snippy, but I’ll go to one or the other extreme. I’ll crave salt and fat so severely I’ll cry if I don’t get something like potato chips.
My Guidebook Would Include: The MostExcellentEver popcorn recipe. A list of re-read books that I have in paper. The location of the hula hoops. The map to the secret treasure garden in Prospect Park. Pre-perforated reminder cards with messages like “Touch the Plants.”
Such wonderful mind-stretching! Thank you 🙂 & loads of love to all of you in your various states 🙂
Havi, why are your Monsters so opposed to self-care? Mine seem to be too.
Mmmm . . . ahhh . . . so much to think over. Love it that this isn’t in a Dammit List (too forceful) or self-care (bleagh!) book. Swanky hotel platter of events is much better. Again, thanks for the gift.
Very useful and insightful post, Havi.
The Hotel Guide book surprised me by being so challenging. I appreciate other people’s ideas about it. That has helped me get started.
What I’m trying to do now is to take these ideas from metaphor to reality for the benefit and care of future me. Like the minibar stocked with goodies — room service bringing me gourmet versions of comfort foods —
I’m learning to recognize depletion, and the fact that many people are depleted makes me feel less strange in my depletion. Figuring out what to do about it is still difficult but this kind of exercise is pointing the way.
Sigh…much needed right now.
Thanks for this Havi, I found out some important things about how I want to treat myself.
Signs of depletion:
* no energy for yoga or things that feel good
* no matter what I eat- still not getting energy from food
* Lose my body and thoughts just whirr around in head
* like others, I can’t sleep well, just when I need it most
* Don’t want to do ANYTHING for ANYBODY including me
* Some kind of upper respiratory ickyness
My Hotel:
* Is run by a kindly grandma who gives great backrubs and is unconditionally loving and knows just what to say to give me permission to feel however it is.
*Sauna and steam room in the adjoining room with huge fluffy towels, and cozy robe right there.
*Library of new books that I wanted to buy but didn’t
* Grandma brings gorgeous hot soup to my door without being asked, makes the bed and is a human Do Not Disturb sign.
Thank you Havi! This is such an amazing creative idea. I LOVE that it can be fun (instead of my usual grumpy monster that says “Hello dummy, you should do this…”)
SOME SIGNS OF DEPLETION:
-getting 10 or more hours of sleep and waking up feeling MORE tired than when I first went to bed.
-loud noises, talk radio, and certain sounds hurts my ears.
-there’s a monster constantly telling me “You suck. This life sucks. Everything sucks.”
-I start obsessing about all the things I did wrong, didn’t happen, should’ve happened, etc.
SOME FEATURES AT WINNIEWORLD HOTEL SANCTUARY:
-there will be heat (hot tea, hot food esp. soup, hot showers/baths, fluffy thick down comforters, wool socks)
-classical music and soft vocals music
-a view of sunlight and trees or mountains or water
-good books to read
-a massage of any kind with great smelling essential oils
-recordings of guided meditations (one I’m hankering for right now is of a shamanic journey into a forest to encounter one’s power animal).
-a bell-pull with a sign that says “PLEASE PULL FOR NO GUILT,” to be used when one starts feeling guilty about something, and a beautiful chime vibrates all the guilt out of the space.