I operate at a high bit rate—but the fact that hummingbirds operate at a thousand speeds faster means that when I watch them, I relax. Their energy—back and forth, face and fight, in and out for sips, and gone again—becomes something I can hitch my wagon to. I ride along with them, then unhitch, slam through the swinging doors, and finally take a load off my too-tight spurred boots.
At a pile of totes, containers, and cardboard boxes, I gave myself a pep talk: “This is what you’ve been avoiding.”
It was both an acknowledgment of the overwhelm and an invitation to work through it. The odds and ends—mostly Evelyn’s too-small clothes, aged-out toys, a tooth water pick, marbles, coins, and about a thousand other little items—needed tackling. I’d already dragged it all from the closet into the middle of our bedroom. There was no way I was leaving for vacation without sorting it.
At a certain point, Dave and Evelyn came home from Lego Club, and I’d had it. I needed their help. In my not-so-direct way, I said, “I want to throw everything here against the wall.” Dave caught my drift and dug in. Now, even though most of it is sitting in bins in Evelyn’s room, the task is done, and I’m feeling hopeful.
Stuff does that to me, man. The accumulation in piles, nooks, and crannies—it’s more than a pet peeve. It’s a spat on my lifestyle. An oil slick. Like that little stain on the window seat cushion, I just can’t get out—it irks me every time.
I’m always chasing that bullseye of everything in its place. To know exactly where something is, to go right to it—that sense of relief and mastery over my domain feels Mount Everest–mammoth.
I just finished my last client session of the day, and I’m buzzing about the somatic marker hypothesis. It’s the idea that we learn through “hot stove moments.” When we are young and our caregiver yells at us, our brains and bodies remember this and also pair it with “Bad.”
Unfortunately, the system is imperfect because the rules can be unfair or nonsensical—especially if we grew up in unhealthy, dysfunctional, or chaotic environments. Still, they shape who we are. Just like when you reflexively pull back from a hot stove, you may also resist having valuable conversations or standing up for yourself—because of what you learned.
Once we’re out of those environments, we can start to challenge those old markers and move them to more desirable places—places where speaking up for ourselves and being treated how we want is non-negotiable.
But that takes time. And if you’re just starting out, know that challenging old ways of being will create discomfort. That’s okay—it just means you’re growing. And that, my friend, is the best place to be.
Okey dokey, lots of love to you! Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 