Go at Your Own Pace

I hope you're well! It's the last week of August, and tonight is a full moon and lunar eclipse. Like I've been sharing for the past few weeks, if you're feeling toppy turvy, you're not the only one. It's the end of eclipse season, which tends to be a time of transition and even unseen, unknown and unknown. 

As I was thinking about eclipse season this week, I was also thinking about pacing. It's so important to go at your own pace, as much as possible, when you are navigating big changes. That also means being honest with yourself about what “your pace” is.

But during intense times, we often react without noticing and just try to go at the fastest pace possible. And sometimes that's the nature of the situation: you simply have to act quickly.

But that's not always true. And in reflecting on this idea of pacing, I was reminded of a time when I was on the verge of a major transition, and the way I figured out how to go at my own pace. I thought it might be helpful to hear the story.

This happened about 17 years ago, when I was a trainee therapist. Traineeships typically last three semesters, and I was about to begin my last one. The counseling center where I worked had a retreat at the start of the semester to welcome new trainees and to begin saying goodbye to senior trainees who would be moving on. Everyone attended.

At the end of that retreat, we sat in a goodbye circle so each person who was leaving could share about their experience. As the other third-semester folks shared, I felt an increasing tightness in my arms. I knew I had to say goodbye, but I had no idea what to say. I literally couldn't find the words.

On top of that tension, I also felt confused. It's usually not hard for me to find words. I have an English major in college, I worked on an editor for years, I'm a therapist, a teacher ~ words are usually there when I need them. But that day, I felt like they were hiding.

Finally, everyone else had spoken and it was my turn.

All I knew was that I had a strange feeling in my arms and no words. And so I said, “I've been sitting here trying to find the words, and I don't know what to say.”

The adults are noticeably good at tolerating silence and because I was in a part of their empathy, there was a lot of space to just be with whatever was happening.

We stayed quiet for a while, and then the words came out: “I guess the most thing I can say is that I'm not ready to say goodbye.” I thought that more words might come out. But they didn't.

After a few moments, from across the yard, the director said, “You don't have to say goodbye. You can say another sentence.”

I can started streaming down my face. Once I heard those words and had that permission, I understood I simply was not ready to go. My arms immediately felt less tense.

I was so used to pushing myself to do things at an “advanced” pace. It was healing to realize that I could go slower than my peers and not be judged or feel ashamed. I could be “late” and “behind schedule.” I could take the time I actually needed.

So, I said, “Well, then I guess I'm staying.”

They were broken out in cheers and laughter. I let out a big exhale. Instead of pretending I was ready, I could do it my own way ~ and I could discover what that even was. I didn't have to rush to figure it out.

If you're in a transition, it can seem like so many things are urgent, but there could be more room than you think. Maybe you actually don't have to answer that email or text immediately. What if you sit with it for an hour or a day or even a week? It's possible that you can take your time and figure out what you want to do ~ one step at a time.

That retreat experience showed me that there's room for me to be me, and that means there's room for you to be you. The following poem speaks to this idea, and I want to share it with you today.

God Says Yes to Me

By Kaylin Haught

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes

I asked her if it was okay to be short
and she said mix it up

I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that sometimes
she said you can do just exactly
what you want to

Thank God I said
And is it even okay if I don't paragraph
my letters
Sweetcakes God said
who knows where she picked that up
what I'm telling you is

Yes Yes Yes

Those years bring tears to my eyes every time I read this poem.

Wishing you many moments where you let yourself be you. 💗