Last week I caught myself trying to think in complete sentences. Not write. Think.
I was mid spiral, feeling like my brain had nine tabs open with the spinning thinking wheel of doom. I told myself, “finish the thought before you start the next one.” It felt almost impossible. Like asking a toddler to walk in a straight line. My mind wanted to skip ahead, catastrophize, then skip ahead again. Slowing it down to one complete sentence at a time was the hardest thing all week.
I've been more anxious than usual for no real reason. Things are genuinely going really well. I’m healthy. My family is healthy. I have great friends. A great job. Nothing's on fire. I still do gratitude every night, still pray, still go through the motions I know are supposed to help. I've been more anxious anyway. That disconnect (doing the "right" things and still feeling off) is what sent me looking for the actual problem… the speed.
I have not been pausing. Not once have I intentionally, consciously pumped the breaks.
The power of pausing is a practice of its own.
We treat stillness like a reward you get after you've earned it. It’s something that happens once the to-do list is empty (it's never empty) or once the anxiety has already won and you're forced to stop because your body gave out first. That's collapse wearing a comfy PJ set. Actual rest, the one that resets you, has to be a decision you make on purpose before you're desperate for it.
That decision is a skill. A muscle. Which means it can atrophy exactly like every other muscle does. I hadn't used mine in weeks, and I could feel it. Pulling yourself out of a doom spiral once it's already spinning is the heaviest possible lift. It's trying to build the muscle while only ever doing your one rep max… No wonder it wasn't working.
I started smaller. Not "meditate for twenty minutes," which was NEVER going to happen. Not with this hyperactive brain. Just telling myself to think one full sentence before letting the next one crowd in. Over and over again.
After some success, I got curious about where else this applies because I don't think the pause is only useful when you're spiraling. What if it's a habit you build in the calm moments so it's actually there when you need it in the hard ones?
Before you respond to something that stung, in a text or in person, what happens if you wait in 3-5 seconds of intentional calm instead of firing back?
Before you walk into a meeting already rehearsing your defense, what happens if you take one breath and actually hear the first sentence someone says?
Before you order your coffee rapid fire, what happens if you look at the person handing it to you to show them you actually see them?
None of these costs a significant amount of time or energy. None of them require a retreat, a new app, or 45 minutes you don't have. They cost two or three seconds and a decision to not immediately move on to the next thing.
I've noticed something else from the anxiety piece. The moments I actually paused for are the ones I can still call up in detail months later. I can recall all the specifics down to minute detail. The moments I flew through blur into one long stretch I can't tell apart from the week before it.
Flying through a day might feel like it’s save you time, but you’re sacrificing moments that can be made it into memory.
Resistance is the word I keep landing on. Before I knew it speed became the default setting. Every time I pause on purpose, I'm rewiring those pathways.
I don't have this figured out quite yet. What I’ve seen so far are the days I paused, just for a second, to finish a thought before starting the next one, were the days that felt less like I was being dragged through them. There’s true power in a pause, and, “with great power comes great responsibility.” ;)
♡ Syd