This past weekend, one of my dearest confidantes and I were having another one of our daily exchanges about the nuances and complexities of life.
Sending audio recordings to one another is the modern equivalent to being pen pals. I was a devoted pen pal to a few friends who lived far away when I was younger, and there’s something helpful about monologuing knowing that the person will be holding space and listening at a time that works best for them, when they are available to receive and attune to what I am sharing. I then have the privilege of offering them the same in return.
It’s an added bonus that this goes beyond intellectual meaning-making. All parts of the story are held and valued, allowing for a more embodied experience.
At one point, my friend shared that she felt deep regret about having put off a decision and that by the time she was able to circle back around and take action on it, it was too late. She had missed an important deadline, and as a result an opportunity was lost that might not come again.
The weight of this missed opportunity was understandable: her elderly partner’s birthday was coming up, and not scheduling transportation in time meant that his birthday celebration would need to happen at the skilled nursing facility where he has been residing since this spring when he became disabled because of a stroke, instead of surrounded by the familiarity and comforts of home and his beloved farm animals.
“Aside from being tired and getting errands done this morning,” she said, “I’m really disappointed in myself cause I’ve been thinking about doing this for awhile, but I kept hesitating and putting it off.”
She recounted about how she tried to call around to locate other options at the last minute, but none were available.
“I’m really mad at the part of me that was dilly-dallying,” she said, teary with a tightness in her voice, recalling a term her mother used long ago when criticizing indecisiveness.
She was all too aware of the scarcity of time, his fragility, and the reality of his own mortality. How many more birthdays would he have?
As she wrapped up her update, she shared about additional farm chores she had left to do and hadn’t gotten around to yet, including a particularly hilly area of the property that was a bit more complicated to address and required particular skill and focus.
My friend is a wise and capable individual who does not need to be rescued from her feelings. One of the things we appreciate most about our friendship is how we trust each other’s capacity to be with the highs and lows in all their exhilarating beauty, crushing devastation, and the multitudes of shades in between. We’ve sat with each other through the best and the worst of what life has thrown at us and our respective partners and other loved ones. The gift of her companionship and attention is one I am more than happy to repay with my own.
After voicing empathy and validation for what had occurred, attending to the layers that were coupled into this experience for her and her partner, I hesitated.
My mind had quickly discovered a pattern in her words that had brought me delight, but I wasn’t sure if it was the right moment to name it or not.
I know first hand how challenging it can be to make rapid connections and want to excitedly share about them, while also wanting to be mindful of the timing. Knowing whether to follow or inhibit an impulse requires a lot of intentionality and the ability to contain oneself.
Trusting our friendship, that I had sufficiently honoured her regret and sorrow and attuned to the nuances at play, and that she knows my intention is never to fix, I took a risk.
“I really hear how hard you’re being on yourself and the reasons why make sense to me,” I said, reiterating some key pieces. “It also occurred to me that maybe you weren’t dilly-dallying. Maybe you were hilly-dallying.”
I paused, then continued.
“You’re holding off on doing the mowing because it’s hilly and it’s not the right time to attempt it. Maybe dilly-dallying is really just hilly-dallying.“
“What ‘hills’, metaphorically, led to the indecisiveness in the first place? Sometimes when I hold back on doing something, it’s because I notice there’s a hill and it’s going to take spoons (time, resources, finances, skills, and/or emotional or physical labour) to figure out how to navigate, climb, or tend to it (‘mow’ it) effectively. If I’m already stacked and overwhelmed — that is, if am tired and depleted from having too many other hills to address, especially if they are not in my locus of control — I might put something off with the intention of coming back to it later when I have more capacity… only that might not happen in a timely manner or at all, in spite of my best intentions.”
“When I imagine the next hill ahead of me that I need to face, there is usually a sequence of things that shows up… body sensations, different emotions, thoughts, actions, and impulses. Sometimes associations emerge that link to other things I’m overwhelmed or activated about. It feels like too much demand to my system. It doesn’t matter whether or not I want to ‘mow’ or climb the hill, or whether or not I normally enjoy ‘mowing’ or climbing the hill, or even if I look forward to the end result or the view from the top of the hill. Decision paralysis and demand avoidance are a question of capacity, thresholds, and support, not laziness, carelessness, or lack of discipline.”
“There’s a self-preserving function to what we might call ‘procrastination’. We avoid demand when we’re already stacked. And you’ve been stacked for months with having to adjust not only to life and farm management without a partner, but also to the fact your partner is in a care facility and no longer has the same capacity and abilities as before. That’s a lot. You are still trying to pick up the pieces, let alone address new pieces that are piling up, forming more hills to mow when you haven’t finished mowing existing ones.”
So many of us did not receive the support, validation, or understanding we needed at key moments in our lives. We may have been criticized or shamed for a normal and reasonable response to adversity or “too much”.
As you consider the metaphor of “hilly-dallying”, what shifts in your body? What happens next as you pay attention?
My friend’s response to the compassion embedded in the metaphor was a resounding “Yes! I love this.” I still feel a sense of playfulness and ease in my body in response to the concept. Something lets go that was holding on. There’s more ease.
The hills are still there, but we feel less stacked about the stacking.
May you come to experience a similar resonance and graciousness within yourself towards yourself and your own system in the midst of the hills of your own life.
Deep Dive: Neurodivergence and Trauma
You may recognize some of the language in this blog post as being neurodivergent affirming and trauma informed. If you’re a Somatic Experiencing® or EQUUSOMA® professional and are interested in increasing your clinical skills in this area, join Sarah for the Large Group Case Consultation being offered on November 12, 2024, from 1-4:15pm Pacific Time. Click here to learn more and secure your spot.
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Many thanks to my friend for her consent to share this anecdote.
