I’m not going to lie or try to hide it. I crashed yesterday. I was squirrely with anxiety, irritation and self-pity. All day long, I embraced resistance. It wasn’t pretty. But it is not the kind of thing one usually posts about on FB.

My one overwhelming thought was I don’t have to work, today. So, there.

And of course, there was no one there to say “so, there” to except me, myself and I. Who else had to be convinced that it was time for a day off? I’d been running on adrenaline for over two weeks. (And here’s the part where I tell you how impressive I am normally, so you can see this foot-stomping, chocolate bingeing, madwoman as atypical, and hopefully, endearing.) It’s true. I’d worked like a fiend to get my house on the market – scrubbing,  painting, staging, making beds, folding towels, packing things up for storage. If you’ve ever sold your house, you know how big a job this is. Add in, I’d spent several days up before sunrise, hiking, walking, and biking in Death Valley on a 4 day camping trip. I got home from Death Valley, and dug right back in to finalizing the house staging. You know, and I also ran my business, and continued writing in my novel. So, I’d been holy sainted Julia for literally weeks. Because, oh, did I mention? I was also eating low carb the whole time. I was gold medaling in being Julia. Definitely.

Then crash. And is there any shame in that? Shouldn’t it be fine to just quit when a job is done, and rest?

Apparently not. Apparently I think that the me that is productive, clever and creative is the me I always am. Or at least, that’s the me I should always strive to be. My ego wants to hold me to that superhuman standard every single day.

But there is always another me lurking just behind that shiny self. There is the resistant, stubborn, self-destructive me that is willing to pull the pin on the hand grenade and take out all the more reasonable me’s with it. (With me.) It is not foreign. It is not hostile. It is me.

That rebellious me is only hostile because the reigning me doesn’t seem to think this warty, sweaty, icky me is okay, too. Wouldn’t that make you feel hostile? I’m me. Dammit. I’m you. We’re all me.

 

My anti-authoritarian me wants to test limits. Am I acceptable if I eat this? If I watch this? If I say that? If I pick that scab, take a nap, masturbate? We don’t have to crash this bus unless you wince. If I can stare clear-eyed into the many me’s it takes to live through a sleepy, irritated, self-pitying day with compassion and acceptance, can I just rest on those days and not have pull out the big guns? Can I watch tv, like any other lazy person, and not have to steer the car on impulse into Burger King? Can I nap and talk on the phone and enjoy this laze-fest? I can only hope. As self-aware as I am, I still crash sometimes – hard.

The one thing about coaching is, I realize that whoever I am on a given day, someone else can relate. There is no one way to be in resistance to what you wish you were doing, what you should be doing. But resistance is painful, and it’s a fight with your better self. One key to ending that fight is to quit thinking anyone one of your selves is the better self. It takes a village to be me.