Living freely

How to talk to my "demons" and inner critics

This is part 2 of a post about my time in self-isolation with the kids. Here’s part 1: A Master Class in Letting Go

Chatting with my many critics

Every morning, and sometimes also in the evenings, especially during the first week of isolation, I greeted my inner critics and we had a little chat. This attitude of welcoming those voices and letting them have their say comes to me from the kind of meditation I’ve been doing for a while now. In different ways, the teaching says: welcome your demons, make friends with them, and they will lose power over you. The more you avoid them or fight them, the more power they have over you. Of course, as much as anyone, I fall into the trap of believing that I can avoid this step. I don't “feel like it”. Or, in a split second, I shut it down without even giving it a chance (“I'm fine”). But then, as promised, they retain their grip on me, whether it's invisible or very obvious. So this what I do, if I am able to catch my visitor before my subconscious quickly closes the door in their face:

I close my eyes, take a few deep breaths, and try to recognize what I’m feeling that I don’t like. Tara Brach has a good prompt for this - what am I unwilling to feel? Once identified, I name the critic. “Oh, hello there, self-judgment, you, again. Come in, tell me what I’m doing wrong. Ah, right, and I know you’re telling me because you want what’s best for me, so what is it you’re trying to protect me from? Oh, yes. Well, thank you. You’re right, I wouldn’t want to experience that. But you know what? I’m ok. And, you know, your way of judging me isn’t actually helpful, but thanks for caring. I’ll be ok.”

Occasionally, I have real trouble recognizing what I'm feeling. I can spend days knowing I'm off, I'm stressed, but the exact feeling escapes me. It happened last week. So I envisioned the feeling like a little creature hiding in the shadows, not wanting to show its face, and I called it out. And out it came! I felt an instant pang of compassion for that feeling, which was interesting because I'd been struggling to practice compassion that week.

And you know what happens after? I AM ok. More than ok. I am that much freer to make decisions, to write my day’s story, without the constraints or the weight on my shoulders that self-judgment, fear, or any other “visitor” would have imposed on me.

Like I said, I did this repeatedly, as needed. At first, I needed it a lot during isolation, and over time, I needed it less. And then there's a difficult week and I need to practice again.

The long-game

On the cusp of Week 2, even before I knew we had another positive test, I was ready to add some more structure back into our lives, and was almost - don’t tell anyone - looking forward to getting another chance to practice the art of letting go, without letting myself go.

I wrote out flexible schedules for the kids, based on something I made up for them in that terrible spring of 2020. I make blocs of time, and give them options for what to put in those blocs (learning time, physical activity time, free time, etc.) and they decide when to do what. It’s a little less freedom than “yes day” but they are still in charge, with some structure added for sanity. One week of total laissez-faire is one thing, but a lesson I learned by late spring 2020 is that this is a marathon, not a sprint. You need a long-term strategy for coping, not a stop-gap. No, you cannot drink yourself out of a crisis.

I got more housekeeping done, but not so much that it would burn me out. I had to acknowledge that, even if I was fine, I was carrying a heavy psychological load, and I gave myself ample permission not to wash all the dishes every night, for example.

Possibly because I was more connected with the kids, I heard their evolving concerns and met their needs while making room for mine. For instance, my son really wants people to play with him, and it’s challenging for him to entertain himself without a screen. So I offered 10 minute play breaks every hour, where I would play what he wanted. I enjoyed it more than I expected, and it helped to have a time limit. But I also imposed a one-hour “individual quiet activity” time after lunch, with medium success, because I needed the break, my daughter needed the break, and it’s an important skill for him to practice. It was usually hard for him to start that time, he resisted mightily, but -when he didn’t get derailed- he ended up coming up with activities that engrossed him and taught him things. Making space for everyone’s needs made us all more relaxed and happier! The kids got along better. My son was the least reactive and most open to guidance I have seen him in a very, very long time.

You can be ok, even when things are not ok

It was hard. It was hard for them not to spend time with friends. It was hard for them and their dad to be apart for so long. It was hard for me to parent pretty much 24/7 while working, in a tiny house, for 2 full weeks. But it was sooo rewarding as well. We were FINE, and we were happy, and we all learned things I hope we can remember and bring with us going forward. It was two weeks I will remember fondly, when I learned to let go, befriend my critics, and, even while in confinement, to live freely.