Where's Mom? The Healing Practice of Hiding.
What do you do for a "smoke break" & how to make anti-mindfulness part of your day
Hi! How’s your week going? It’s Wednesday and the urge to accomplish something with our week is coming on strong. But how about we dial it back a notch and give ourselves some much-needed permission to just wander...
it’s why I send out these letters each week.
Rarely do we hear encouragement to explore, release the purposeful plans, open up to the unknown, or listen to part of us that wants to venture off the main path.
Welcome Wanderer is a place where… your curiosity is a strength, timelines drain us of our creativity, and we’re not in any rush to arrive.
So glad you’re here!
Let’s chat…
I sat in my dark laundry room, door cracked, on a wooden step stool next to the open washing machine. My nervous system on high alert- zinging and zapping. It happens every night around 8 pm- I want to run away (flight), lay in the fetal position and check out completely (freeze), or let out a guttural scream (fight).
Instead, I offer up nighttime snacks to everyone, coax myself into the laundry room around the corner from all the flurry of my 4 children, and hide. I decompress, reel in my big emotions, breathe slowly, stop the spiraling thoughts, and steady my heartbeat. I can still hear all the chatter, fart talk, and whining in the next room, but I’ve removed myself from the fray and resisted the urge to do something I’d regret later.
Last night as I pined away in the darkness, my butt going numb, for probably 20 minutes, I heard the question circulating amongst the family, “Where’s mom?” They all assumed I’d gone to bed.
When all was quiet, I emerged from my laundry room lair and then snuck off to bed while the rest of my crew read books downstairs.
I wish this entire process didn’t require 20 minutes (sometimes longer!), alone, in darkness, but it does. When I’m maxed out, overwhelmed, and annoyed I’m terrible at switching gears on the spot. I’m still not zen master enough to take a few big box breaths in the kitchen to calm myself and find my focus again.
I need time and just the right amount of distance. I need to slouch in obscurity, shed a few tears, and whisper, “You’re gonna be okay.”
The most important part of this practice is releasing the guilt I feel for even needing to step away in the first place. What’s wrong with me that I can’t push through with a smile or cope with these seemingly insignificant stressors and stay present in the moment?
Lately, I’ve been doing a big soul shrug, Oh well.
And then, I carry on.
I don’t know about you, but I sometimes feel like I’m in constant recovery from reality. It’s a full-time job to be alive and human.
For me, hiding is a healing practice, and instead of feeling guilty for it, I’m giving myself credit for doing what I need to do to take care of myself when things feel wonky…
and I hope you do the same for yourself!
Before we anxiously reach for our phone like a cigarette, let’s brainstorm some ways we can take a “smoke break” when we feel the urge to escape from reality. The key is to make it as easy as possible, and totally accessible, like walking into the laundry room and turning off the lights.
Be curious about…a simple 10 to 20-minute practice you can weave into your life to support you when you need to check out and gather yourself.
Here are a few to get you started:
Read a magazine or a book.
Jot down what I’m feeling.
Stare out the window with a cup of tea.
Water the house plants.
Go for a brisk walk.
Sit on the front porch step.
Take a shower or a bath.
Stretch.
Did you know the Dutch have a special word for doing nothing? It’s called Niksen and Olga Mecking wrote a whole book about it.
I lived in the Netherlands for 2 years and can attest that the Dutch lifestyle caters to the practice of doing nothing. It’s naturally woven into their slower-paced, bike-centric culture, where the focus isn’t on efficiency or working long hours.
When I came back to America I felt an immediate shift. Our obsession with success, 24/7 productivity, and car dominate cities make concepts like niksen difficult to incorporate into life. I feel the pressure to always be on - making linear progress and being useful somehow.
In her book, Olga explains the power of niksen and maps out a way for us to bring a little niks into our everyday routines. The first thing to remember: doing nothing will look different for each of us.
In Italy it’s dolce far niente, in Meditteranean countries it’s siesta, for Jews it’s Sabbath, the UK has the idler movement, the Chinese have a concept called wu-wei, and in Latvia, it’s translated as “to pickle around.”
I’ll leave you with one of my underlines from the book,
“Niksen might even be described as anti-mindfulness, as it doesn’t require you to be aware of your body, your breath, the present moment, or your thoughts. Instead you can use it for the opposite: you can use it to escape your head and just get lost for awhile.”
Have a lovely rest of your week dear friends, take gentle care, and may you find your own way to do nothing.
You’ll find me in the laundry room or pedaling around town on my bike!
Traveling with you,
