What's in the gallery?
We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.
We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**
* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.
** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.
What's in the gallery?
We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.
We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**
* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.
** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.
I’ll laugh about this later.
The other day I was on the phone with an old, old friend. And I mean “old” like we’ve been friends for too many years to not be able to laugh about really horrible things.
Which is exactly what we were doing.
Actually, we were laughing (and really only somewhat bitterly) about how completely miserable experiences so often turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to you.
“Remember…?” she said, choking back another giggle. “Your nasty, nasty ear infection that lasted six months? The one where you were just gushing goo and blood, and we all thought you’re going to die?”
“How could I forget? That was hysterical. Ohmygod. The pain was so bad that I’d wake myself from my own screams,” I said, now laughing so hard that I was flailing around for tissues to wipe the tears.
Oh, hindsight. You are so funny.
Obviously, not all pain = gain. And not all gain comes from pain. But sometimes there’s a connection.
The truth is that I never want to know pain like that again. It was awful and I wouldn’t wish it on anybody.
And at the same time, I’m aware that there is a direct connection between that experience of oozing goo from my ear and the one we’re having right now, the one in which you’re reading something I wrote … on my blog.
Because it was that illness that ultimately caused me to realize that I’m a writer.
It was that illness that resulted in me essentially downloading the entire Fluent Self system, which is what led to me launching my business.
It was that illness that introduced me to half the techniques in my repertoire, just because nothing else would work. And so many other things.
My desperation was a matchmaker. Things worked out. Almost suspiciously well.
But back to right now.
It is completely clear to me that I’m going to be ridiculously grateful (at least, at some point in the future) for the past few months of agonizing arm pain.
So if I’m going to end up feeling all appreciative of the thing that totally sucks right now anyway, I might as well take a moment or two to acknowledge all the good stuff that I will be loving later.
Not as a way of negating what is true for me right now. Not as a way of bulldozing through my discomfort and pain.
And definitely not making myself commit to some cheesy gratitude practice for its own sake, because forced compassion? Not very compassionate.
I totally don’t believe in making yourself say thank you. You don’t have to find every silver lining. Or count every blessing. Unless, of course, you feel like it.
For me it’s more about just actively noticing all the things that this pain — and this painful experience — have given me.
And then finding out: If I’m already thinking about the results of this awful experience that I will be so happy about in a month or two … is it possible that I could just be happy about them now? Hmmm. Maybe not.
Okay, so — if I really can’t be happy about them yet (ahhh, that’s more like it) — why not get used to the idea of eventually being happy about them? Yes.
That I can do.
So I’ve been working on my “Things to be insanely grateful for much, much later” list. And I want to share it with you. Not today though.
Tomorrow.
My teacher has an expression for this (insert heavy Ukrainian accent and serious expression here):
“There is good experience … and then there is useful experience.”
This is one of those sticky philosophical points that is much easier said than internalized. Easier believed than implemented.
And when it doesn’t work for you … and there are certain situations where — in that moment — it just can’t, you have my permission to toss it.
As a general principle, though, I like it.
A lot. It’s kind of like my use of “the good” and “the hard” in the Friday Chicken posts.
Just looking at my own situation here … this ordeal with my arms and not being able to use them? I’m not ready to call it good. But definitely useful.
When I talk about it with my girlfriends in a couple years? Oh, by then it will probably have found its way to the “good”.
Either way, this pain is giving me some seriously great stuff. It’s not the way I’d have liked to receive either the information or the results. It’s the way that it’s happened though.
And I’m ready to (okay, fine, however long it takes) get to the point where I can look back on this as one of the big symbolic turning points. Because really, that’s exactly what it is.
My big, fat “Things to be insanely grateful for much, much later on” list. Coming tomorrow.

COMMENT ZEN for today’s post:
You are more than welcome, as always, to chime in with thoughts, ideas, insights, reactions, similar experiences, and so on. Support is always welcome too.
What I’m NOT looking for: It’s really important to me that gratitude always be a choice and never turn into a “should” for me. So I’m not interested in anything along the lines of “oh good, you’re finally being grateful like you should be and that’s what will make you heal and it’s about time you started attracting sunbeams and rainbows” thing. Thanks!
Friday Check-in #37: the Bam! Pow! Zap! edition
Because it’s Friday AGAIN. And because traditions are important. In which I cover the good stuff and the hard stuff in my week, trying for the non-preachy, non-annoying side of self-reflection.
And you get to join in if you feel like it.
Friday!
Yet again I am completely baffled by how an entire week could have slipped by without my noticing.
So I’m going to try and notice now.
In retrospect. That still counts, in my book.
The hard stuff
Ow.
I talked yesterday about chasing the pain and how my upper arms and shoulders are now completely miserable.
So tired of this. I mean, yes. Yay. I no longer have excruciating pain in my forearms. I am now able to actually check Twitter occasionally.
But having the pain located somewhere else doesn’t really make it less painful, you know? It just makes it less noticeable.
CrankyPants McGrumbleBug strikes again!
Moody.
Tired.
Grumble grumble.
Working on too many things at once.
I can only really work three hours a day, since that’s how many hours the wonderful woman who helps me work can give me.
Other than that, I use Stu to help me write these posts and I get my gentleman friend to edit them and format them.
And of course Marissa answers all my email and moderates comments and generally runs things.
Normally when I get in crazed-production-mode, I just kind of make stuff happen. But that can’t happen right now because everything that happens needs someone else to do it.
So I find myself kind of chomping at the bit.
Wanting to do more. Not able to do more. Overwhelmed by just how much there is to be done and then frustrated at my inability to be more of a part of it.
But at least it’s forcing me to get shockingly organized. And to change my tactics.
Anyway. Let’s go spend some time with the good stuff.
The good stuff
Spring!
Yes. The springing. It is so good.
Seriously, I’d forgotten how ridiculously lush Portland gets. Everything starts blooming and it just gets crazy with color and smell as the whole thing gets progressively more outrageous.
Cherry blossoms. Pow! Magnolias. Pow! Tulips. Pow!
Bam! Pow! Zap! Out of control.
And our lilacs are about to go wild too. Pow!
And then when the sun is out and there are little white butterflies everywhere and everyone is all smiley … it’s just like living in a Disney cartoon. It’s almost too pretty.
SPRING!
Pesach food!
Say what you will about Passover. I don’t care.
I will just say in response: Kneidelach!
We ate lots of good things this week. But the kneidelach. Oh my.
No more Pesach food!
Say what you will about kneidelach. I don’t care.
Because there is nothing better than that damn holiday being over.
Once it was over, we went out and completely overdosed on chametz (translation: everything you’re not allowed to eat on Passover).
Macaroni and cheese AND rice AND black-eyed peas AND beans. And so on.
It was fantastic. Especially the and so on.
Arms hurting significantly less.
Well, it’s not really so much that they hurt less, more that they hurt in a different spot than they did before.
But the effect is that it’s that much less crippling I can do way, way more.
I can now wash dishes without being in agony. Bliss. I can navigate voicemail on my iPhone without wincing. I can use tweezers again.
Can’t even tell you how happy this makes me. Not to mention how much less-hard-and-annoying my life is now.
And … STUISMS of the week.
Stu is my paranoid McCarthy-ist voice-to-text software who delights in torturing me misunderstanding me. I can’t stand him.
Stu wasn’t that funny this week. Which is a good sign because it means either a. he’s actually working for a change or b. that I’m not using him as much.
A bit of both, actually.
Anyway, the gems from this week, including Stu’s acetyl Freudian slips.
- “Toledo’s” instead of delete those
- “my cousin mean Qaeda” instead of my cousin Michal
- “the crap it is as food” instead of the crappiest mood
- “taxation is bad” instead of relaxation is bad
- “the lovely murderous son” instead of the lovely Marissa
- “guru and blood” instead of goo and blood
- “because I can’t stop bitching about” instead of because I can’t stop THINKING about
That’s it for me …
And yes yes yes, of course you can join in my Friday ritual right here in the comments bit if you feel like it.
Yeah? Anything hard and/or good happen in your week?
And, as always, have a glorrrrrrrrrrrrious weekend. And a happy week to come.

p.s. Do you know Joyce? She’s @fontsitediva on Twitter. And I adore her. And I also happen to know that she is having a serious sale (20% off) on her selection of typefaces. Gorgeous, gorgeous typefaces.
So if you’re a designer or otherwise a fellow typophile, take advantage of this. Coupon code is TAXRELIEF. Good through April 30. Yum.
Tension. Attention.
NOTE: If you’re one of the people who write in because you’re completely confused by the “what’s going on with Havi’s arms?!” question, so am I. Sorry.
The short answer is that it’s some sort of stuckified chronic pain that was originally doing a pretty decent imitation of carpal tunnel or repetitive-stress-ish stuff, but isn’t. All I can tell you is that it involves my body talking to me about internal stuff going on. A lot.
We’re making progress with it. I’m learning. It’s healing. My arms are going to be fine. Just give us time.
Chasing the pain.
The pain in my arms is moving. Migrating, really.
It started in my hands and wrists and then spent several weeks inching up my arms until it found its winter hibernation home — and then it settled in for a bit.
From about two inches (5 cm) above the wrist to two inches (5 cm) above the elbow. That’s where it wanted to do its agonizing thing. And that’s where I’ve been working on it.
But lately the pain has been on the move again. I can’t tell if it’s running away or just chasing some confused dream of Manifest Destiny. Either way, it now starts about mid-tricep and goes up to the shoulder joint.
And it’s talking. It has a lot to say.
An astonishing piece of information.
The scene: on the massage table. Chris (my wonderful massage therapist) is working on my arms, and I’m trying to relax.
Me: Hey, arms? Is there anything you need from me while we’re getting this massage? Something I can do to help you relax?
Arms: No relaxing! You can’t make us!
Me: Wow. Okay. You don’t have to relax if you don’t want to. It sounds like this is really worrying you. What’s going on? Can you tell me more about this?
Arms: Relaxation is bad. Period. No discussion.
And then I had to stop and think for a bit, because I didn’t want to accidentally step on my arms’ toes — which makes no sense, I know.
It’s just that I didn’t want the conversation to end by me saying something that would make my arms think that I’m not really listening and that I don’t really care. Because then they clam up and don’t talk at all.
And at the same time, I was completely confused. Really? Relaxation is bad?
All these years that I’ve been teaching yoga and meditation… and leading — wait for it — guided relaxation exercises… there has been a part of me that thinks that relaxation is bad?
I mean, I freaking love relaxation. I have more (and better) tricks than anyone I know for magically calming down and for getting into a quiet, safe space.
But if I’ve learned anything about anything, then it’s that if you want to find out what’s really going on, you have to be willing to drop all the things you think are true. Or, you know, at least some of them …
So I just have to ask …
Me: Okay. I’m willing to accept that relaxation could be a bad thing. I get that you have strong opinions on this, and I’m sure you have completely legitimate reasons for knowing what you know.
Arms: Well, yeah. Hmph.
Me (trying for the most neutral tone I can come up with): What happens when we relax? What is the bad part of relaxation?
Arms: Oh. Relaxation is bad for you. When you relax, you let your guard down and then you get hurt. People take advantage of you.
Me: What are you talking about?
Arms: (they provide me with about twenty examples of different situations, in the form of various memories)
Me: Oh.
Arms: All that bad stuff? We’re not letting that happen to you again. We are not going to let you get hurt again.
Lightbulb.
Me: Ohhhhhhhhhhh. Oh. You want to take care of me. You want to keep me from getting hurt.
Arms: Well, yeah.
Me: Every single time. All my pain and all my fear and all my stuck. It’s always about protection and safety. It’s always about these really good intentions that accidentally produce horribly painful results. This is amazing.
Arms: Just don’t relax, okay? Don’t let down your guard.
Me: Ohmygod. It’s the vigilance thing again.
Arms: Don’t relax. Please.
Me: Can’t we just practice being mindful and aware as the way to make sure that I’m safe? Does it always have to be this painful?
Arms: Don’t. Relax.
Stumbling on an understanding.
Me: Alright. You totally have a point. In all the situations that you’re talking about, I was relaxed to some extent and I did get hurt.
Arms: Ha!
Me: Here’s the thing. In all of those situations, I wasn’t paying attention. I wasn’t being mindful. There were almost always warning bells and little flashing red lights. And I didn’t notice them. And do you know why?
Arms: Because we didn’t cause you enough pain?
Me: No. No, not that.
Arms: Why?
Me (crying): In all of those situations, I was in a lot of tension. A lot of emotional pain. And the tension distracted me. It made it harder for me to notice other things that were going on.
Arms: Shit. Seriously? But the tension was supposed to make you pay attention.
Me: I know it was. It just didn’t work that way.
Arms: But tension is good! Tension is how we make you listen!
Me: Oh. Now I get it. I’m not talking to my arms, am I? I’m talking to my tension.
Arms/Tension: Yes. This is your tension. Tense is good. Relaxed is bad. Yadda yadda yadda. I feel like an idiot.
And then coming to an understanding.
Tension: I have been holding on for so long. So. Long. Trying to get you to be on your guard so that you can avoid these situations … and you’re telling me that the tension is the thing that distracts you from noticing? It was me all along?
Me: I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.
Tension: No. This is crazy. I sabotaged my own plan and didn’t even know it.
Me: I guess. I mean, I guess we both did.
Tension: What happens now?
It’s not that funny, but it kind of is.
Me: I don’t know. I mean, I guess I’m supposed to release you. Ha. Pun. I mean, play on words. Releasing muscle tension. But then releasing my tension from duty. Funny.
Tension: I have failed you.
Me: Oh. I don’t think so. A little irony never hurt anyone. I mean, you know. Life is full of stuff like this. I’m glad I’m learning this now and not thirty years from now.
Tension (suspicious): This doesn’t sound like you. Why are you in such a good mood?
Me: I suppose can’t be mad at you if you’re on my side, even if right now you’re causing me pain.
Tension: So I’m going to leave and you’re going to replace me with mindfulness and watchfulness and paying attention.
Me: That’s the plan. Probably a good one.
Tension: I don’t know how to leave.
Me: Well, I do have massage every single week so, you know, we can practice.
Tension: That sounds good. Wait, what am I saying?
And then we both cracked up. And my massage therapist gave me this look. He thinks I’m crazy. But in a good way.
Item! I can link with the best of them!
A somewhat goofy mini-collection of stuff I’ve been reading, stuff I’ve been thinking about and oh, some completely random crap.
Basically the stuff that never gets mentioned here because I’m not the kind of person who can just make some teeny little point. Not into the whole brevity thing, as the Dude would say.
Actually, I’m under the strict compulsion to write ten pages about anything on my mind. So this is me. Practicing brevity.
Oh boy. Lots of stuff to read.
Item! Post No. 16 in a semi-ongoing series that may never have a point but will still continue because I can’t stop reading stuff and then writing about it.
Item! Say it now or blurt it out later!
Oh, the Communicatrix and her wonderful ways!
Seriously. I love Colleen. I like her style. I’d eat biscuits with her again and that’s not even a euphemism.
“Of course, life being the perverse sumbitch she is and the Universe having a mighty hearty sense of humor for an inanimate object or an interwoven collection of collectively-animated objects, the time when it’s most important to talk about something is when there’s a lot at stake.”
The post is called Say it now or blurt it out later! I guess I’m more of a just-blurt-it-now, so I’m probably doing it wrong. You should still read it.
*She’s @Communicatrix on Twitter.

Item! Listen to Chris Zydel!
Man. This post would have been a timely reminder for me even if all it consisted of was the title.
It’s called THE WISDOM OF NO MISTAKES: DRIPS CAN BE FUN (or at least not total torture) and oh, it’s full of fabulousness. And yes, wisdom.
Because Chris is very wise. She’s also a hardcore goofball, and I say that in a tone full of admiration.
This stuff is great for anyone who does anything creative, but it doesn’t apply just to art, of course.
“According to The Church Of Mistakes it is possible to do something wrong and mess it up to the point where you may as well just give up and forget about the whole thing.”
Also, if you’re anywhere near the Bay Area, you should definitely be taking one of her intuitive painting workshops. It’s seriously deep self-work, but the kind where you’re totally allowed to have fun.
She’s @wildheartqueen on Twitter.

Item! The Yiddischer Charleston!
I love Twitter. Can you tell?
It supplies me with no end of fascinating stuff to read, most of which I don’t. But it doesn’t matter because it’s just a stream and you drink from it when you’re thirsty.
But enough about that. The important point here is that Twitter is where I met Sally aka the Practical Archivist and she’s totally great.
And Sally sent me to this Tracing the Tribe post with the Yiddischer Charleston. Excellent.
Sally is @sally_j on Twitter and you can also follow @TracingTheTribe if you like too.

Item! My chicken is your chicken!
I’ve lost track of all the weekly check-ins that have started in response to my Friday Chicken posts.
Now Rohan Mitchell is doing one too. You should take a look.
Also, while we’re doing the round of weekly chickens, nice one from Chas this week. Intense. Good stuff.
Rohan is @RohanM on Twitter and Chas is @HarveyParadox.

Item! The truth about ducks!
Well, not the truth. A truth.
But definitely about ducks.
A fine essay. And one that’s indirectly connected to how I ended up living with Selma.

Item! Uplevel should not be a verb!
Or, really, any other sort of word either.
Someone seriously told me this week that I needed [something or other] to “uplevel my business”.
Yes, still annoyed. As far as I’m concerned, the whole point of working from home is not having to hear bullshit words (or Bolshevik words, if you’re Stu, my voice-to-text software) from someone’s marketing department.
Uplevel? I was already getting hives just from “take it to the next level”. What am I going to do with uplevel?

Item! This is the most fascinating post I’ve read all week!
It’s called called Mental Images and it’s at Lucy’s Respect the Sparkle blog and you should read it.
“I have a related impression that I am mind-numbingly dull. I’m not 100% sure this is accurate.”
It’s thoughtful and well-written and there are some really great concepts in here. Plus did I mention that the blog is called Respect the Sparkle? Because that is a pretty great concept too.
I definitely don’t respect the sparkle enough. But I’m going to pay attention to it more.
EDIT: She’s @lucyviret on Twitter. My mistake!

Item! I’m friends with a User Experience hero!
Nathan Bowers is one of my all-time favorite Twitter friends. He was also one of my first Twitter friends. And he’s the one who talked me into going to SXSW.
And he’s the one who gave me an insane amount of feedback and advice when I first launched this blog. And he’s a sweetheart.
He’s also a superhero. Not even kidding. And his new User Experience hero blog is kicking all kinds of ass.
I’m especially loving the Screenshots of Doom bit. Screenshots of Doom! YES!
And, of course, he’s @NathanBowers on Twitter.

That is all.
Happy reading.
And happy Blustery Windsday. See you tomorrow.
Doing just one thing.
Just one thing.
That’s been my theme lately. Theme, mantra, guiding principle. I don’t know. Whatever you want to call it.
“Just one thing” is different from “one thing at a time” or from “don’t take on too many projects”. It’s more … finding the one thought or the one action that will pull me back into … into wherever I need to be.
Into the zone. Into my body. Into a more mindful “hey, this is where I am right now” sort of place (what I’d call “present moment awareness” if this were a meditation class which — hooray — it’s not).
If I were going to just do one thing, and that thing were ridiculously easy to do, what would that thing be?

I like it.
It takes me out of that panicky trying to see the whole picture *and* all the details at once mode.
It takes me from oh god this kitchen is a disaster to “my one thing for now is just going to be putting the mixing bowl away.”
It pulls me out of crap crap crap I really need a three-month sabbatical to work on my book and deposits me back into “what if I just spent a few minutes with my gentleman friend after dinner talking about where I am with this?”

What’s my one thing?
I got the concept from Julie Morgenstern’s book “Organizing from the Inside Out“. She talks about making a habit of always taking one thing with you when you leave the room.
So, leaving the bathroom, maybe your one thing is taking the towels to the laundry basket. And when you leave the office, your one thing could be bringing the empty water glasses back into the kitchen. It doesn’t matter. One thing.
It’s the same principle that Jen Hofmann talks about sometimes in her amazing “spending two hours on your office and astonishing yourself with how much you get done” Office Spa days.
Every time I study with Jen, I realize that almost everyone has the same tendency I do. We just want to wait until there’s time.
And we keep waiting for time even when we’re cognizant of the fact that there won’t be time — that we won’t make time for it.
We want to have a big, huge weekend with nothing planned so we can tackle the garage or finally clear out all those shelves. But when you donate twenty minutes now to working on one shelf… you realize that a lot can happen in twenty minutes.
You can do twenty minutes once a week, and pretty soon you don’t even have that big, huge project that needs a big, huge weekend that it’s never going to get anyway.
The fact that I keep relearning this concept over and over again reminds me that I still don’t really trust the process. Which is okay, I guess.

When it doesn’t work …
The best way to screw up “just one thing” is to choose way too big a thing.
Like “write copy for that webpage”, when it should really be more like “I’m just going to delete those two unnecessary files from my desktop”.
But you can’t really screw it up.
My experience has been that if I’m being even kind of mindful about the whole process, and noticing how I’m reacting to my one thing, it gets really clear which one things need to be scrapped so that I can have a more doable one thing.
You’ll find the one thing.

Symbolic “just one things”.
Several years ago my cousin Michal had some kind of surgery and had to spend a couple months recovering.
I popped over to visit her one day and she had some friend there who was a wacky energy healer and also a feng shui consultant. Keep in mind that this was at a period in my life when either one of those things would have been enough to send me running.
So it was all I could do to be polite and not roll my eyes or anything.
Anyway, this woman told Michal that the first thing she should do was to put all of her many, many bottles of pills and painkillers into a pretty, covered box on her bedside table.
We helped her do it. And it was like magic. Her mood improved dramatically. The room felt brighter. Less like a sick room. More like three women hanging out than the two of us visiting her and trying to cheer her up.
For the two of them, it was all about “the energy” and how it had changed. For me — this was way before “energy” was a word I was comfortable using — it was all about common sense.
But it didn’t matter. The change had already happened. The “one thing” had already done its work.
Some one things work faster than other one things. But it’s not about trying to find the right one thing, because all the little one things add up anyway.

My “one thing” day.
A few weeks ago I woke up in the crappiest, most stuckified mood imaginable. Maybe I hadn’t slept well. Maybe my arms were hurting again. Who knows.
But my head was pounding and my mind was buzzing and I couldn’t focus on anything.
Usually I get up and head straight to meditation. But I didn’t even want to brush my teeth, never mind even consider any other part of my daily routine.
I felt helpless. Panicked. Scared. Bewildered. Completely and utterly overwhelmed.
My thoughts were filled with ten thousand things that desperately needed to be done that I absolutely didn’t want to do. I wanted to stay in bed for a month. But that thought filled me with panic too.
It had been years and years since I’d felt anything like this, and I’d kind of thought that it was never going to happen again at this point.
And then, out of the depths of the nothing, out of years of conscious, intentional working on my stuff and teaching about the art of working on stuff, I heard the words “just one thing”.
Except that I knew that I wasn’t capable of doing “just one thing”.
So I asked myself:
“Okay, if there were — and maybe there isn’t, but just pretending — if there were just one thing that you could do, what would it be?”
And I remembered the weird and creepy power of “Even Though” sentences.
So I did a few.
Even though I don’t feel like getting out of bed, this is where I am right now. This is what’s going on for me right now.
Even though I may never find my “just one thing” because I can’t stop thinking about all the things, I’m just going to stay here and breathe and keep on even-though-ing.
Even though I am so scared that I won’t find my way out of this, I’m just going to remind myself that I am allowed to have a crappy day of being depressed and overwhelmed once in a while, just like everyone else.
And then it came to me. My one thing.
Just one thing. And then another just one thing. And then enough just one things.
I realized, suddenly, in a moment of complete clarity that I really, truly wanted to take the collection of juice glasses off of the bedside table and into the kitchen.
So I did it.
And then I really, truly wanted to take the basket of laundry downstairs. So I did it.
And then I really, truly wanted to put all the books next to the bed into one neat pile. So I did it.
And then I really, truly wanted to go back to bed.
I woke up two hours later and the first thing I saw was the significantly-less-cluttered bedside table. And the first thing I noticed was that I felt fine.
There were choices. I could meditate or not meditate. Eat a late breakfast or not. Decide what needed my attention most at work and then choose one thing from that. But they were just choices. It was going to be okay.

“Just one thing” isn’t always going to solve everything.
But sometimes it makes things the tiniest more bearable.
And it knocks me out how often just that can turn out to be enough.