Im fine save me1/1/2024 ![]() I went for long hikes without music or company. I sat on the back porch and watched the clouds change form. I did quite literally nothing for hours of the day. When everything in me screamed, stay busy, plan something, anything as a distraction, look for another job, or run away - I (very painfully) did the exact opposite. These are a few remedies that have made the biggest impact. ![]() As with most remnants of childhood trauma, it took time, guidance, support, and a shit-ton of work to inch my way through release. ![]() I wish I could tell you that I read a self-help book, went to a few weeks of therapy, or added ten extra minutes to my meditation and was magically cured. Still, it did take away all my lame-ass excuses for not working through the lingering trauma response of my busyness compulsion. Quitting my job and moving to Panama didn’t remove my dis-ease. My gold-star seeking impacted my physical and mental health and perpetuated stress, overwhelm, and snide discontent. It’s where I got accolades and affection that felt a lot like love.Īnd yet, always striving, always trying to prove myself was exhausting. It took time to turn down the volume on my constant mental chatter encouraging me to go, do, plan, organize, and elevate. Just like an addict, it took time to withdraw. The dissociative coping skills of busyness and workaholism I developed to alleviate the pain of neglect and abuse, the survival strategies that served me quite well as a child, had become unchecked liabilities as an adult and were simply no longer serving me. Becoming a high-performing achiever was the natural progression in my quest to earn attention and adoration from teachers, coaches, and bosses. And yet, my young, single mother lacked basic relational skills and was physically and emotionally unavailable.Īs all children do, I adapted to fulfill my needs of feeling safe, seen, soothed, and secure. Sure, I had a roof over my head, clothes to wear, and most times, there was some sort of food in the house. You see, as a child, I grew up without much nurturing or support. ![]() One of my previous bosses used to say, “Sometimes your biggest strength is your biggest weakness.” As we settled into Panamanian life, this statement was never more true. When a big client, project, or event was in the mix, I was the one called to lead. The go-to gal who was reliable, confident, and great under pressure. It takes a while to adjust.” I’d walk away unconsciously shaking my head no, thinking I’d made a terrible mistake! Neighbors and new friends would say, “Give it time. Which beans to buy, canned or dry? Should I store the toilet paper under the sink where it could get wet or on the closet shelf where it’ll be dry but out of reach? Constantly second-guessing even the smallest decisions. The magnitude and multitude of changes overwhelmed me on many, many days. Those first six months were pretty rough. We moved 3,000 miles away, and in my mental suitcase, I dutifully packed my codependent tendencies, character defects, and all. The mental pathways of being “on,” always doing, and always busy were well-worn and strong.īusyness called to me like a stiff vodka tonic to a recovering alcoholic. I had removed myself from the office, yet the office tendencies and culture were alive and well, running familiar circles in my mind. I’d even constructed a dependency flow chart based on our questions and their potential answers. My husband and I quit our jobs and moved to another country to escape the incessant rat race that was eating our souls.Īnd yet, here I was, sitting at my kitchen table, still making spreadsheets and lists of tasks and errands. Most of all, after being buried in emails, texts, and Slack pings at all hours of the day and night, I yearned to never respond to another message for the rest of my life. I craved a slower, simpler lifestyle - and adventure was calling me. Three years ago, I quit my job, sold most of my stuff, and moved to Panama.Īfter 21 years of non-stop hustle in the corporate world, I was officially done.
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