I’m busy “doing” all day, and the day feels complete. But it also feels like a sham. Like if people only knew what a fuck up I really am underneath, they wouldn’t think I’m nearly as successful as they think I am right now.
If you know that feeling, you’re carrying more than you’ve let on, and you’ve gotten very good at making it look fine from the outside.
Here’s what I’ve been living through.
Three summers ago, my son was diagnosed with colon cancer. He went through chemo. I had a dog at the time, my sweet Murphy.
Murphy died about six months into my son’s treatment. Last June, my husband had surgery for prostate cancer. In August, he had surgery for colon cancer. In October, we found out his prostate cancer had spread to his spine and ribs, and he started treatment. Somewhere in the middle of all of it, I had sudden onset hearing loss in one ear (my hearing mostly came back), and I had shingles four times in four months, despite having been vaccinated.
I meditate every day. I journal every day. I do breathwork. And every doctor (mine and my husband’s) I’ve talked to has told me the same thing: get a dog. For the stress relief. For the comfort.
I haven’t had one in over two years, because my husband wasn’t ready for another dog yet, and I understand why. But I need one, and lately that’s turned into more than one heated conversation between us.
Here’s what I’ve noticed about those conversations. When he raises his voice, I lose my words. I know what I want to say, and then it’s gone, and I’m scrambling to catch up to a conversation that’s already moving without me. The urge in that moment is to push harder, talk faster, get my point in before it slips away again.
But when I stop, even for a few seconds, something different happens. My train of thought comes back. I find what I meant to say instead of whatever came out first. And he can hear me, because I’m not trying to be heard over him anymore.
That pause has nothing to do with being calm. It’s not about being the bigger person. It’s the only thing that’s worked.
I’ve been talking about this exact pattern on The Daily Dose, where I follow the sun through different energies and try to make sense of how they show up in everyday life. The one I’ve been living through lately, I call Miss Cranky Pants. She’s the version of you that keeps moving, keeps talking, keeps doing, because stopping feels like losing. She’s not lazy and she’s not dramatic. She just doesn’t see the value in the pause.
The other version, the one I’m trying to become more often, I call the Inner Saint, my best self. She’s not calmer because she has less going on. She’s calmer because she’s learned that the restlessness and being antsy is information, not an emergency. She stops on purpose. She lets the clarity show up before she opens her mouth. And then she says the true thing instead of the loud thing.
I’m not all the way to the Inner Saint. Most days I’m somewhere in between, mid-argument, trying to remember that the pause is a thing that works.
If this is landing for you, if you know what it’s like to look fine while carrying something heavy, I’d love for you to come with me to The Daily Dose. It’s short, it’s daily, and it’s about exactly this. No fancy language. Just plain talk and real life.
Find your happy. Love what you do. Make a difference.