Just before Christmas, I found myself on the floor of my office staring at the ceiling. The cycle of work, burnout, work, burnout has dominated my life for nearly a decade. I felt numb. Exhausted to the point of nihilism. I couldn’t believe I was here again.
I had had enough. And I casually decided that when I went back to work, I would be willing to let go of everything I had held on to. That includes Wit & Delight. Next. It’s a brand deal. Everything. They appear when they have something to say. I share things because it’s fun. I’m done doing good. It killed the last ounce of creativity I had left.
So I stopped. I got off the treadmill. I took a vacation that I should have taken years ago.
Then I sat down to write about it.
I’m scared of being the person who doesn’t care enough. Who would starve a good thing until it no longer functions? Someone who withholds what they need. My attachment is feeling responsible. I feel like it’s needed, like a structure to protect my life from falling apart.
I wrote about detachment. About fundamental compassion. About what I learned in silence. I wrote a draft. It felt good. Beneficial. And I heard a voice in my head saying, Bullshit. So I closed it.
I sat with that draft for months. When I finally opened it again, I thought: Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe I was too hard on myself. However, I understand why it closed.
I’m scared of being the person who doesn’t care enough. Who would starve a good thing until it no longer functions? Someone who withholds what they need. My attachment is feeling responsible. I feel like it’s needed, like a structure to protect my life from falling apart.
What would happen if we stopped caring so passionately, if we stopped controlling all outcomes?
And I saw it happen.
My husband and I were fighting. I knew exactly what he had to do. I had insight. That’s the advice. Something that will fix that. And I said nothing. I was just waiting. I saw him do it himself. And when he did, when he found his way, I felt closer to him than I have in months. As if I had played a big role in the repair. Almost without saying anything. that shouldn’t work. But it is did.
That night we turned the corner. And once I saw it, I couldn’t watch it again.
When I didn’t fight with him about the kitchen, he knew what needed to be done. When I waited for my daughter to finish combing her hair without lecturing her, she didn’t fight with me. All these ways I was in control were making life feel difficult, as if they were resisting me.
All these ways I was in control were making life feel difficult, as if they were resisting me.
When I did less, when I cared less about how things were done, things somehow went better. It feels wrong to admit that. I feel lazy. Like I’ve given up.
Because if life was easier if I just cared less, what the hell was I doing?
I thought my obsession was love. I thought compassion meant keeping things from falling apart. But collapse is part of the natural cycle of things. Maybe my worry was actually fear. Fear that if I don’t pull it all together, everything will fall apart. Fear that your worth lies in your vigilance. That if I stopped managing, I wouldn’t matter.
And the sadness of that realization is a kind of pain in itself. Because it means that all suffering was optional. Self-regulation. the story i told myself what does good mean And kind and feminine.
So, here’s what I’m sitting on right now. What if my focus is sometimes on control? What was I making more difficult than necessary? What am I scared of seeing?
I’m writing this for the woman who is reading a book on her phone at 11pm. You’re exhausted from managing everyone’s emotions all day long and wondering why you feel so empty. For those who have once again verbally abused their child and are hating themselves for it. For creators who are expressing their values ​​online while real life is falling apart.
I thought my obsession was love. I thought compassion meant keeping things from falling apart. But collapse is part of the natural cycle of things. Maybe my worry was actually fear. Fear that if I don’t pull it all together, everything will fall apart. Fear that your worth lies in your vigilance. That if I stopped managing, I wouldn’t matter.
Here’s what I understand to be true: When I didn’t care too much about how things were going to be done and just waited… things somehow worked out. And it feels wrong to admit that. But it’s true.
And maybe that’s what freedom actually is. The world doesn’t have to change to feel okay. You don’t have to control everything to be important. Just…leave it. Let’s leave it at that. Let yourself be. Just a little bit.
Kate is the founder of Wit & Delight. She is currently learning how to play tennis and is constantly testing the limits of her creativity. Follow her on Instagram @witanddelight_.
Source: – witanddelight.com
