What Do YOU Need?

So.

If you follow me on social media, you may have gotten a whiff of this, but I’m in my last few weeks of radiation treatment for a minor cancer relapse.

I assure you that my prognosis is excellent and I’m in wonderful hands and there’s no need for concern— I’m extraordinarily fortunate in all of this.

AND ALSO.

I’m tired.

It's a bone deep, all-the-way-into-the-cell-walls kind of tired that's hard to explain.

If I had my way, there’s a chance I would sleep twenty hours a day and spend the other four indulging my penchant for young adult fantasy novels and eating ALL the carbohydrates.

All of them— especially the ones that also feature cheese…the gooier, the better .

This isn’t usually something I’m particularly public about for a lot of reasons.

I’ll save them for another post.

But I wanted to share this now because I think everyone’s tired and I think it’s a good time to support one another.

First— let’s address comparative suffering right out of the gates.

Comparative suffering is that thing we do where we say, “well, I don’t have it as bad as _____ person, so I have nothing to complain about.”

It’s a cousin of perspective and gratitude, but be very careful not to mix them up.

Perspective and gratitude allow you to acknowledge your own pain/suffering/etc while also acknowledging where you have support, resources, and privileges that help mitigate or alleviate some of it.

These things are fantastic for helping us not fall into victimhood or spiral into self-pity that doesn’t serve us or our lives or our communities.

They are incredible tools for resiliency, compassion, and empathy.

Comparative suffering likes to masquerade as perspective, but the key difference is that it takes away our right to our own pain and creates some bar or measure of suffering that is required in order for it to be “allowed."

This is dangerous territory.

We all have a right to our feelings.

Grief doesn’t disappear just because someone has enough to eat or a large bank account.

Pain, disappointment, fear, loss…they are often relative to the rest of a person’s life.

Everyone has a right to feel what they feel.

Creating a bar that someone’s pain needs to reach before it’s “allowed” is cruel.

We don’t get to decide when someone’s suffering is bad enough to “count.”

This goes for ourselves as well.

When we decide that our own pain is insufficient to be treated with kindness and compassion, we are saying that we get to decide who gets to feel their pain, that we are the judges of what pain is “worthy.”

When we rule that our pain is unworthy of acknowledgement, we are saying that other people’s similar pain is also unworthy.

Can you see how this is counterproductive?

How it stunts our compassion?

Can be a barrier to empathy?

For me this has looked like:

“I’m so freaking grateful that we caught this relapse early, that my odds of survival are incredible, and that I’m in a position where I can work from home— and often from bed— and have the resources and support to make this far more manageable that it could be.

AND ALSO, cancer sucks. It’s terrifying and scares the living shit out of me. It reminds my how precious my life is and how much I want to do with it AND treatment makes me want to climb into bed and hide from the entire world forever. I’m so grateful to be in the best case scenario of what is a shitty situation.”

For you, maybe it looks like:

“I’m so grateful I have a job that could go remote and that my income is stable AND ALSO I’m really struggling to balance being at home and trying to do my job and monitor my kids’ schoolwork and I fucking hate working from the kitchen table.”

or

“I’ve been so lucky to have the support of my community and a stable loving family AND ALSO I’m so fucking tired of having my voice go unheard and getting talked over at meetings except for the occasions where I get tokenized."

or

“I know I’ve enjoyed privilege on a number of levels and it’s so important to me to use that privilege to fight injustice AND ALSO I’m so exhausted by feeling outraged all the time and sometimes I want to hide from the news.”

There are a million ways this can look.

A million variations of acknowledging what we have every right to feel while also holding on to perspective and gratitude.

We can be BOTH.

We are capable of complexity.

So.

All of that to say…if you’re tired, too, for whatever reason (or reasons— plural— because, seriously, who has only one at this point?), here’s what I’ve been doing to take care of myself in case they might serve you as well:

1. Sleep. I know this is basic, but getting more sleep than you usually think you need can work wonders. Something magical happens both physically and mentally when we sleep. Don’t underestimate it.

Also, rest— taking time to do whatever feels restorative. Whether it’s starting Game of Thrones over from the beginning or crawling into bed at 7pm to read “smut”...

2. Exercise…or not. Some days are vastly improved by a walk outside, especially on the trails— when I’m up for it, it’s day-changer.

Some days, I’m not sure how much I’ve got in the tank, that I’ll for sure be able to make it all the way back home of I wander too far. Those days, I get on our Peloton (feel free to roll your eyes, but this has been a huuuuge for my health and well-being and I feel very fortunate to be able to swing the payment plan) and commit to 10 minutes…sometimes I end up coming off in 8 and crying on my yoga mat instead and sometimes I can stay on for far longer once I get moving.

And some days are all about forgiving myself for not being able to get out of bed at all. #reallife

3. Indulge my introvert. I’m very introverted— also outgoing (you can be both!)— but my energy comes directly from silence and solitude.

Lately, taking care of myself has meant pulling back on my accessibility. Not making some of the calls to friends and family that I normally would. Or not sending/replying to every email I need to quickly. It’s meant asking to schedule even social calls so I can plan and accommodate what I need.

What this has really boiled down to oftentimes: letting people be annoyed or disappointed or frustrated with me.

Some plates have hit the ground. I don’t love it, but it’s just where I am right now and what I need in order to do what’s most important to me.

4. Stay curious. C’mon, you had to know this was coming. Seriously, though— I’ve relied heavily on my curiosity skills to fight my inclination toward self-flagellation and judgment, to fight that urge for comparative suffering.

When I don’t get things done as quickly or as urgently as I’d like.

When I feel like I “should” be able to manage something that wasn’t challenging six months ago but is now.

When the voice pops into my head that says I’m being self-indulgent or lazy or weak.

It’s the gentle practice of saying “is that true?” or “is there another story here” or “what are you really feeling” or “is there more going on here.”

There are endless questions all day every day and they are what keep me from spiraling into the patterns that hold me back, make things worse, alienate my support, and generally make things much harder than they need to be.

5. Plant something. I just planted some mint yesterday and nothing says "looking ahead to a future filled with growth” like putting seeds in the ground and expecting that they’ll sprout.

Connecting to the cycles of nature is one of the most effective ways I know to remind myself that “this too shall pass.”

6. Do something but not everything, most of the time. It’s felt weird or off at times, but I’ve given myself the room to simply do what I can on any given day and let go of what I can’t.

There is a lot happening in the world and sometimes it feels like if I’m not doing ALL the things, then I’m not doing any of the things.

Not true. It’s not all or nothing. Those aren’t our only choices.

I try to so something most days— learn from someone doing social justice work, write to a representative, sign a petition, donate, spread the word.

Making these choices has meant that I’ve often needed to choose between things.

Sometimes that’s meant giving my energy to invisible, behind-the-scenes work instead of voicing outrage on social media or other, more “public” expressions.

Which means accepting the occasional fallout from that.

These are some of what I’ve been doing.

If you’re feeling tired, stretched thin, overwhelmed, try one (or all!) of them.

It’s okay not to perform at optimum output every moment of every day of your life.

That’s not actually your only function as a human being.

You are built for joy and beauty and connection. You are built for belonging and creativity.

Lean on your curiosity. Lean on the questions that pull you away from harsh judgments.

Be kind and, as always...

Stay curious out there.