What if you become different, when you start healing?

Multi-tasking used to be one of my superpowers. I wouldn’t think twice about putting serial multi-tasker (a really good one) in my resume during my corporate world days. I pride myself for being efficient, resilient, and capable of handling multiple things at the same time, like its some kind of badge of honor. I used to believe that to be able to handle more = I’m worth more. The message I was constantly getting then only reinforced that belief. More = Better. Stronger. Valuable. 

That became the way my body learned how to survive.  

As a mom, that feels like an important prerequisite. Entertaining multiple thoughts, performing mental gymnastics (if you’ve done mom math, you’ll know what I’m talking about), checking off the never ending lists, and taking care of the needs of everyone – those were essential survival skills! Or so I thought.

No one really prepared me for what could happen when I begin to learn to appreciate slowing down and experience what it does for my nervous system. The ability to multitask no longer feels like a necessity or a strength. But just a skill to pull out when truly needed. And to me that was a big shift, although it didn’t feel so at first. In fact, it was really unsettling.

Earlier this year, I caught myself resisting the urge to do a few tasks at the same time, while juggling my practice and home responsibilities. At that time, I thought something must be off. I couldn’t bring myself to want to do more than one thing at a time. I felt like I was moving at sloth pace! I thought I must have lost my mojo by slowing down.

So, I can totally relate if the idea of slowing down doesn’t feel feasible, practical, capable or maybe even downright ridiculous to some, because of the state they are in. I was once there too. And I’ve seen that in clients, friends and families.

Because when that pattern of non-stop doing and going has become so familiar as the only way we know how to adapt to life circumstances, being anything different feels really scary. The constant doing gives us the illusion of control (more = better control) and the idea of losing control feels like a threat. 

It reminded me of an incident that happened 10 years ago...

We were on a family vacation in Tahoe with my sister’s family, who came all the way from Malaysia to visit for the first time. We just came back from the store after getting stuff to make Christmas dinner. I remember the kids were playing and laughing. Everyone was having fun. Except me. I was scrambling in the kitchen, doing several things at once to prepare dinner because I didn’t want my daughter, who was 2 then, to get hangry. My sister saw that and reminded me to slow down to enjoy the moment, something we won’t be getting often now that we live so far apart.

And I snapped at her. Not because what she said was wrong or hurtful. But my nervous system then was so stuck in survival mode (especially since becoming a new mom) that I couldn’t allow myself to entertain that idea.

Fast forward to 10 years and much work later, while trying to get our new home ready, I chose differently...

Over the last 2 months, while spending most of my time and energy on fixing up our new home, I didn’t really want to do anything else. Whether it was making home cooked meals, writing, engaging with others, showing up here, and even building my practice.

So I stepped back from my practice for the whole of Sept (I’m so grateful for understanding and patient clients), let go of the need to have every meal to be nutritiously homemade, put my business and writing ideas on the shelf, and just focus on getting our new home ready. And allow myself enough time and space to find my rhythm again. (And this is a privilege that I don’t take lightly).

What if I can no longer perform as efficiently as I used to and miss out on the chance of being successful – in my practice, in parenting, in writing or whatever I’m trying to build, if I only focus on one thing at a time?  Those thoughts crossed my mind. It took a while, but this is what I learned. 

I actually accomplish whatever it is I am doing better when I allow myself to be immersed in it (not just moving through it), one thing at a time. I can notice how I’m feeling in my body and respond to the cues better. I feel more connected to what’s present without trying to prepare for what might happen 10 steps ahead. I even feel more creative. It doesn’t mean I will always enjoy the tasks more (let’s be honest, there are just some tasks that are hard to enjoy). But for me that’s not the point. 

I get to choose how I want to experience the process. 

At the same time, I don’t need to live like everything requires my immediate attention. Emails will get answered, laundry will get washed and folded away, meals will get prepared, ideas will get translated onto paper, and clients who resonate with my work will find me. Maybe not always in the way and pace I may want it to be. But in the way that it’s meant to. And that is enough.

Maybe it’s being at this stage of my journey or my nervous system state, or just at this age in life. Truth is being present in living now means more to me than anything else. And I trust that slowing down will get me there in the way that I’m meant to. 

Ultimately, at the end of my life, who gets to decide if I have been successful. There is no shortage of ideas out there of what success should look like. By whose standards will my life be measured against? No one but me, myself and I. 

So, if right now doing one thing at a time, whole-heartedly, mindfully, and the best I can is what I am capable of, that is successful enough for me.