Small Kindnesses to the Self

I am tired. Body and soul, tired.

I've come off a frenetic two weeks of knocking things off my to-do list and visiting people. I over-scheduled in my attempt to front-load as many tasks as possible. I did this hoping to shorten the duration of time that I would be stressed and leave myself with several weeks to process the upcoming upheaval free and clear.

That is partly accomplished. My to-do list has shortened drastically. What's left feels more under my control. I've begun to re-schedule a few things so that tasks and visits are better spaced out with less pressure to mindlessly blow through them.

Recently I've been playing a fun game. It's got to be one of the most therapeutic Steam games out there. Spiritfarer: Farewell Edition.

In this game, you are Stella and you have come to replace Charon, the ferryman for the dead. You inherit his boat and you use it to pick up the various spirits in this realm. You remodel your boat to accommodate them as true guests. You cook for them. You fulfill their last little requests. In the end, you accompany them to the Everdoor so they may pass on more permanently, and you bid each farewell.

Nearly every part of this game was designed to make you chill out. Relax. Play gently. There is no real danger, no health bar to watch, and no urgency. You grow garden plots on your boat, cook in the kitchen, fish off the back end, feed your friends, and explore the world to harvest materials and ingredients to keep everything running smoothly. You build a loom and weave fabrics. You build a forge and melt ores into ingots. You build a cow stall and milk the cow. Need cheese, yogurts, and pickled items? Build a cellar and set them in there to ferment and cure.

As I played, I began to realize what a kindness it would be to take things more slowly. Immediately I recognized one area of my life that needed to change.

For a long time I have prided myself on my eating speed. I would brag that I could down a $5 footlong in five minutes or less, and it was true. People have asked me if I developed this because siblings snatched food off my plate and I can safely say, no, I have never had that experience.

There were just other things I wanted to do. While eating was nice, I often saw the process as a waste of time. In addition, it left me with too much time inside my own skull, and there be dragons. Early on, I trained myself to eat with one hand while reading a book in the other, to better fend off the silence and fill the time.

Stop. Chew. Keep chewing. Keep chewing.

Once I started trying to slow down, it was incredible how much focus it took not to go at my usual pace. If I broke concentrate for a few seconds, I found myself swallowing whole chunks like usual. It was not possible to slow down and read at the same time, not if I wanted to continue to reduce my speed.

As I chewed, I pictured one of the more relaxing parts of the Spiritfarer game--weaving on the loom. It's a task that is clearly meant to be repetitive and soothing and to take time.

Eating is supposed to take time. Taste. Savor. Let it stay for a while.

I've begun noting how often I mentally check out from experiences and dreamwalk through life. Recently when I slipped into a bath that was perfectly hot--enough to sting a bit but welcoming in its heat--I was shocked at how grateful my body was. Not me, my body. I realized by taking the time to be in that bath and focusing on the warmth that cradled me, I was giving myself a deep kindness.

I've been sitting at a table for a few hours, writing a completely different blog post about trust. After about two thousand words of work, I sat back and started to crotchet a little while really listening to the music on my favorite playlist. Suddenly I had the same sense. Taking the time and listening to the music while working with my hands... it is a kindness to sit in the moment and enjoy that.

Taking the time to do a pleasurable thing for myself is a kindness.

I have not been very kind to myself. I have gotten better at it, but I am still afraid of too much silence turning loose the monsters inside my head. I am afraid that I am wasting time. I am afraid I'll never get through the things I'm supposed to. But if I am not kind enough to myself, I burn out. I curl up. I shut down.

Taking the time to do a pleasurable thing for myself is a kindness.

This is my third cup of ice water. I wonder if being more present makes me realize when I'm actually thirsty. Usually I'm dehydrated before I reach for the water because I just don't feel thirsty. For most of the day, I'm just not present enough to feel thirst.

Taking the time to do a pleasurable thing for myself is a kindness.

I see things beginning to happen. Starting to change. Let's keep working on this one.