Take Your Recovery
I have a confession to make: I am really good at crying in public.
At dinner tables in restaurants. On long car rides. In public bathrooms.
Yes. I cry in public bathrooms.
In one particular bathroom in California, a little over 8 years ago, I had a particularly memorable cry.
It was during a labor and delivery class – just a few months before I was due to give birth to my son.
And we had just watched THE VIDEO. You know the one I’m talking about.
THE VIDEO where you see what actually happens. No filters. No editing. All of it.
After one especially graphic moment, I could feel the tears welling up. With only moments to spare, I jumped (as quickly as a 7+ month pregnant woman could jump) out of my seat and waddled quickly to the restroom down the hallway.
There, in the comfort of the sterile, 3-stall bathroom, I locked the door behind me and burst into tears.
I remember being so afraid – terrified, really – for so many reasons.
For what was going to happen to my body. By how much it was going to hurt.
But my biggest fear of all? That I couldn’t control it.
That the biggest, most important change I’d ever wished for in my life – becoming a mom – was actually, completely out of my hands.
Long labor, short labor, epidural, no epidural, healthy baby, complications – almost none of it was in my control.
And that was terrifying.
After a good, long cry and some cold water on my face, I decided to head back to the class. By the time I returned, THE VIDEO was over, the lights were on, and the instructor was answering questions.
What she said next completely altered the way I think about control, fear and change:
She was talking about contractions, about how they ebb and flow and yes, they’re painful but then they stop. There’s a break. And then, predictably, they will start again.
“Whatever you do,” she warned us, “make sure that you relax in between contractions.
Don’t spend your recovery time worried about the contraction that’s coming next. Don’t spend it upset over the contraction you just had.
When the pain of a contraction stops, let yourself relax, breathe, and recover.”
In other words, be present. Be right here.
Give yourself recovery time.
Whether the change we’re wishing for is a baby, a new job, a career with more meaning, or something else – there will always be moments that we can’t control.
Moments that scare us. That hurt – physically or metaphorically.
Moments where we anticipate the hard road ahead. Or revisit and dwell on the past.
Just like the predictability of a labor contraction, we can predict that any change worth creating will have challenges.
That we won’t know exactly how things will work out – or even if they will.
Give yourself recovery time.
Even when it’s scary. Especially when it’s scary.
This past weekend, my amazing baby boy turned eight. We celebrated, we laughed, we played and ate lots of cake.
And naturally I thought about that day, eight years ago when I stared down my fear, released my wish for control, and relaxed between contractions.
That day, Mother Nature gave me a masterclass in being present. In letting go. In taking my recovery time.
What are the contractions of the change you’re working on and through right now?
How much of your energy do you waste on worrying about the pain coming up? Or rehashing the pain that just ended?
What would it look like to take your recovery? To allow yourself to relax and breathe in between the tough moments?
Recovery isn’t indulgent.
Recovery prepares us for the contractions ahead.
I hope you’ll take it.
Onward,
PS: This week during my Lives, I'm diving straight into the topic of change, fear and control – sharing mindset tricks and actionable tips to help you manage your own fears and take your recovery times. Join me:
Plus, in my private Wayfinders Collective Community, I'll be going live to share even more insider tactics to conquer your fears and supercharge your change. Join the community to be part of the conversation, this Friday at 2pm ET.