Slow Down
Follow along on the Let Me Humble You podcast. Streaming anywhere you listen to podcasts.
Chapter 1: Slow Down (That time I busted my ass in front of Middle Schoolers, and other reasons you should take your time)
Michelle Obama once said “It’ll never be 50/50 in a relationship” there will always be someone at some point who gives more. She’s right. At any given stage it could be 60/40 or 70/30 or maybe something close like 55/45. When you look at a relationship overall it should be 50/50 but that’s because at various different times someone is giving more, or compromising more, or forgiving more, or apologizing more. It just is the way it is.
I decided that it’s important to decide if the person is worth the bend. In the past I did a lot of bending, no pun intended. Sorry, when I’m nervous I make weird jokes before getting to the point, because this topic is hard to get to and it’s going to take me going down memory lane to get to the morale of it.
Like I was saying, in the past I tried to be the better half. It took sport, I was sweeter, sexier, more giving, more loving. I read a card from my ex the other day and in it he said “ thank you for everything you have done for me, do for me, and will do for me in the future” and this was for valentine’s day, not national administrative assistant day. I find value in being there for people, and as noble as it sounds, its also more of a reflection of myself and my anxious attachment. For those of you who don’t know, according to Come As You Are by Emily Nagoski an anxious attachment style is when a person copes with the risk that their attachment object might abandon them by clinging to them desperately. Anxiously attached children for example get jealous and experience intense separation distress, if left unaddressed it manifests itself in adulthood. As you can guess most anxiously attached people find themselves drawn to avoidant attached people. Which would describe a third of my love life. I always happen to fall for the guy that was of few words and distant. In the beginning it was great, I liked how quiet he was because he opened the floor for me to talk, for hours. I thought how attentive he was, and I found it as a compliment that he enjoyed my long monologues. But eventually when I would begin to feel insecure or worried or nervous it was met with that same silence that I had once appreciated so much. Even though I love to talk so much I really am a better writer, like they say you shouldn't text in an argument, but I specifically should only text in an argument. I'm very eloquent with my words and descriptions, but when I voice my concerns, it feels like it doesn't come out right. It's too wordy, I assume that I'm not being heard, so I repeat. I've been known to beat a person down just by continuously going in circles and I’m not tired yet because I’m not fulfilled or satisfied by their response. This has been a part of me that I have become very self aware about in my later years, and in hindsight, I'll look back at certain arguments that I've had and realize, if I just said exactly how I felt or exactly what I wanted I could avoid everything else. By everything else I mean the arguing, the tears, the silence, but obviously in the moment it doesn't feel that way.
People say communication is very important, it's probably the number one thing that makes life run. Whether at your job, planning a trip, or when in a relationship. But what the fuck does that even mean? Communication is such a vague word, because everyone communicates differently. Have you ever heard of the City of Babble? It’s in the bible, essentially all these people who are trying to fix their town end up speaking different languages. They are trying to communicate, but they can’t. We all know communication is key, but HOW does one communicate? Or what if you communicate differently? Then throw in the emotions like frustration, fear, pride, ego and you’ve gone from “communicating” to well, borderline verbal assault. I was blessed and cursed with a slick tongue. I can say things that will cut deep, I have a theory every sensitive person can. Cause when you cry easily you have an idea of what it takes to make someone else cry. Mostly I used that power to take jokes to far or when I’m venting to friends about some else. But it isn’t okay or right. So I have tried my very best to keep it at a minimum. When you’re arguing it has to be in the back of your mind to not say something you’ll regret. Most times arguments come from a miscommunication and the need to defend yourself. In a relationship its important to fight with each other and not against each other. Let me say that again, cause it may have gone over your head. When you have a disagreement you have to remember that you’re fighting that issue not the person, but ofcourse most people have a born alone die alone mentality which results in them fighting whoever to defend themselves. I personally hate arguing. I hate fighting with friends, family, and whoever I’m dating. It exhausts me, I get this gorgeous glow from not eating due to a lack of appetite. I call it sad shine. After the fight is over I always reflect, and I think had I just communicated this specific thing we could have avoided all of this.
Let me give you an example:
A month or so ago, I was on my way home from work. My day was not working in my favor, I ended up paying for a really expensive “group” lunch, I missed my wax appointment, and I was behind on work. I took the train, and was looking forward to simply running home, curling up on the couch and watching my boyfriend play video games for 3 hours straight. Once I got out of the train station, I saw the mayhem in the streets. Middle schoolers, or high school freshman, anyone under the age 18 all look 7 to me, were all commuting home. Now I have a couple street codes I abide by, and one of them is never make eye contact with teens or preteens, and before you gasp I’m not a lonely 26 year old English teacher from Florida, looking to risk her career, I just feel like if I look and smile they may laugh at me, or be like “what the fuck are you looking at” or like, I don’t know something teen angsty. So I decided, I was going to walk around this large 20+ group. Well, as I rounded said corner to be directly in front of the kids my shoe caught onto the curb, and I flew forward, hands out, and hit the middle of the street. Hard. Have you ever seen the end of any Fresh Prince of Bel Air episode? When Uncle Phil throws Will’s best friend out of the house? That was me. That much momentum straight out, and if you’re wondering, don’t worry, my knees broke my fall.. Yes it was my knobby twins that skid across the rugged asphalt. Not only that but I happened to be dressed down in designer that day. Like lv bag, Chanel shoes, I looked like, a rich asshole.
A rich asshole I am not! It just happened to be the luck of the draw. I turned around and quickly blurted “I’m okay” to reassure the kids, but you could see the panic in my eyes, and tears streaming down my face, I was most certainly not okay. The adrenaline pumped out of my body allowing me to walk a few feet. At that moment I needed reassurance. 1. That I was going to be okay and 2. That those kids weren’t recording me. Honestly, I have got to hand it to them. I fell so fucking hard their mouths dropped and no one had time to compute what happened to make fun of it. But on the inside? I was mortified. After calling my sister and best friend to no avail I called my boyfriend, who was comfortably sitting on the couch in our apartment, about 250 feet away. The moment he answered my words came out like silly putty: “pleasecomegetmestraightawayifellinthestreetandihurtmyselfpleaseimbytheSMOOTHIEKING”
He was confused and asking me a million questions. Which only made me more frantic. We hung up when he said he was on his way, after standing for about 30 seconds, still in shock, I decided internally that he was taking too long, and began to hobble on my own to towards the apartment. I made it to the CVS by the light when I saw him, coasting, walking casually in my direction. In that moment when I saw him, I wanted a hug. I wanted someone to care that I was in pain, and find whatever magic to take it away. I was 7 years old and wanted to be coddled. My ego hurt and my knees hurt. As soon as he got to me, I was met with none of the things I longed for. This wasn’t because my boyfriend didn’t care, it was because to him, I was his girlfriend, the perfectly capable adult who had fallen and just needed some ice. He didn’t know about the crappy day I had, or the embarrassment, or quite frankly, how f&*$%^& painful that fall was. I already felt low though, and in that moment I couldn’t communicate that, so I internalized it, and became more upset because he couldn’t recognize what I really needed in that moment.
Once we made it to the apartment it didn’t take long for a disagreement to ensue. After my crying subdued, my attitude ensued. I was annoyed by a lot of things, but my boyfriend was right in front of me, and thus the pinnacle of my frustration.
I want to pause here and say, that instead of describing the details of our argument, the aftermath realization is what’s more impactful to this story. I was so upset that my boyfriend didn’t show up the way I wanted him to, but he showed up the way he knew how. In a practical, service way. I didn’t know how to communicate what I needed, but I knew what I needed was simple. Do you see the disconnect there? If what I wanted was so easy, then why not just ask? Doing some deeper digging I thought , maybe it was because I didn’t know how to ask others to show up for me. I didn’t know how, and I assumed, that they should intuitively know. Class, that’s delusional. I consider my boyfriend, my best friend, my other half, the love of my life, but he is not me. He doesn’t know or can tell every single need that I have, because he wouldn’t understand where it stems from. It is my responsibility to convey how I feel and it is his responsibility to address it from then, and vice versa. Both of us are responsible for communicating, and learning from times where we simply missed the mark. Which means delivery is just as important as it is for me to share what I am feeling, my expression is based on his response. I would never be with a partner who makes me feel small, or irrational, or unheard. Frankly, because too many times in the real world do women have to experience that. We have to apologize for our emotions, we have to monitor the way we present ourselves, we are expected to be both strong and a damsel, sweet and sultry, a role model and a supportive face in the crowd. One of the most difficult things I’ve had to adjust to in this world is being an adult woman, trying to find my footing and figure out my values and who I am is almost like a relearning. How can I expect to stand tall in who I am as a person if I struggle to share with the closest person in my life how exactly I am feeling? It starts with the baby steps. Communicating what I really need, and not being ashamed or fearful of the reaction. To be honest with yourself and share it with others is one of the bravest things you can do.
In the meantime time, this story made me think of something else that is really important. It isn’t just about how I communicate with other people, it is about how I communicate with myself. Looking back on that day, why was I walking so fast? Sure, I wanted to avoid the large crowd, but my mind was already cloudy. I was thinking about the day I had, how things weren’t going well, what was due in class, my job, what my next job would be, my writing, my sisters, my weight, what other people were doing, things I should have done, things I shouldn’t have… my mind was racing and the result was sending me further and further away from the present. This was all covered by a podcast that was blaring in my ears through my headphones at the same time, as a lackluster attempt to cancel out my repeating thoughts: If I could just get home, then I could slow down, then I could sit, then I could face it all, or distract myself in a different way, or just hide in my room. The moment when I fell everything paused. It was like that white ringing. All I could think about was the pain, when I came back to reality, it was a jolt, like God’s way of saying “I know you don’t understand it, but I need you to stop and I don’t think you’re going to find any other way to do so then this.” When I made it to the apartment, and I was in the room by myself I finally just…lost it. I cried and screamed and punched a wall, (I said I wasn’t going to disclose this part by the way, but if there is even a .01% chance someone feels seen in this moment, then this story was worth it.) It was a meltdown on the outside, but on the inside it was a release. In a strange way it felt like this was when the true work of my healing journey began. I’d restarted therapy during this time, and with a month or so in, we were finally beginning the real work. It started with expressing how I really felt. The frustration, confusion, desperation, it all had to come out. You know why crying feels so good? Its because when we are doing it, we feel like everything that we don’t know how to eloquently put into words can be expressed by a few tear drops. When we are done crying, we can lay down and find comfort in the silence, then we usually get up and calmly begin to address how we feel. Whether its hungry, so we make something to eat, or tired so we grab a blanket to sleep, or thirsty so we take a sip of water. All the things that support or body and soul in the small ways become center stage, as they are supposed to be.
That weekend I had no choice but to sit down, I had to rest, and be alone in my thoughts and begin to map out how to face some of the things that I was struggling to deal with, and you know what conclusion I came too? That the things I wanted to address may take longer than I thought…and that’s okay.
What if I told you that you don’t have to have a plan. You can rest your shoulders, take a deep breath, you can remove your tongue from the roof of your mouth, just look at your surroundings and know, that it is okay. You don’t have to have it figured out. You don’t have to be complete. The noise that rattles around in our heads is just that… noise. It doesn’t become less noisy the more successful we get, or the more we distract ourselves. Somewhere in all of this I hadn’t lost myself, I had just become unrecognizable. I was changing and things were changing around me. My wants and desires were evolving. I was looking at myself just a bit differently. I was used to having this framework of how things should go, and it started to become apparent that there was a lot going on in my life, and though I had made plans for my life, I hadn’t taken a moment to check in with me. To look at me, to ask about me, to defend me, to love on me. I fell that day and it finally became apparent what I needed more than anything was to pause and just have a hug and be told it was going to be okay. Even if that reassurance came from myself. Writing this now, I think the thoughts that circled my brain, the stressors that consumed me, was me trying to tell me, we have some inner work to do. That I needed to…slow down.
We live in a world that is all about being busy. In my opinion that is just an alternative word for being distracted. Busyness is usually categorized in two ways: busy to survive, or surviving because we’re busy. You either have to bust your ass every day to keep food on your table, to support yourself or your family. Or you’re busy because if you take a moment to slow down you have to face things that you really don’t want to. Maybe sounding busy just gives value to your life, and that’s value from the view of others.
Growing up we weren’t taught to just be happy, or grateful for a simply good day. We were conditioned to believe that rest is for the weak, to focus on building for future us. Well let me tell you, I have thought about future me a lot, and now that I am one version of her, I would have told my past self, the best thing she could do for me, is not worry about me. Is enjoy her day. Is be present. Is value her life. Is to stop being so hard on herself. I figure my past self would want me to know, how much she wanted for me to not judge her. She’d want me take care of myself, and find a way to be okay now. To not compare myself to family members or friends or strangers cause that diminishes her story and all the experience and growth she has. Present me is just balancing what past and future me want, which in a sense is the same thing: Peace.
I wish I knew then how important it was to just slow down. To walk at a pace where I could notice the kids laughter, instead of avoiding the crowd. Where I could take time to reflect without feeling the need to condemn myself. The biggest lesson I’ve been learning is the easiest one: be kind to me. All the accolades are amazing, they are proof that I am capable and strong, they are evidence that my past self was onto something, but there is no point in manifesting and putting the work in if you never receive the fulfillment you are waiting for. I have a lot of work to do, but for once it isn’t about studying for an exam, or getting a writing piece in on time, or making sure the task at work is completed. Those are everyday items. I have to fix the portions of me, that were placed on the backburner and ignored to the point that the only way I’d take the time to face them was by being forced to sit down. Relief has washed over me knowing that this is a familiar mountain to climb, to know that I am addressing parts of me that have been waiting in the shadows. I am tending to that feeling in my throat, that gripping that makes it hard to swallow, it is the realization that I am really digging within to redefine what I want in the present.
Manifestation is asking God and doing the work to get what you think you want, but your soul knows what you need. It expresses it in the things you are looking forward to. A new job is about a new experience and more financial security to support things you care about. A new relationship is to find a way to express your love with another being and have it be mirrored back to you. A new project is to discover a new skill about yourself. At its core, these are new incentives to learn to love and get to know yourself.
I am a strong believer in divine timing. I believe everything happens for a reason; this lifetime was planned to an extent – your free will always lead you back to a lesson you are supposed to learn. Everything happens for a reason, it is up to you to figure out what that reason is, and how it will help you evolve. Falling in that street in February brough me here to August, where I am writing this piece reflecting and realizing I am at a new phase in life, this is more than just about the accomplishments that past me has dreamt of. This phase is about figuring out who this version of me really is, what are my values, what are my standards, what are my interests. It's about how I show up for myself, how I'm kind to myself, how I sit and be okay with being myself. If I can figure that out and be at peace with it, then communicating with others will be a piece of cake.
