by: Shelli Armstrong

Have you ever watched a performer in Cirque du Soleil in awe of the bends and folds they create with their bodies wondering how on earth that is even possible? You can acknowledge that it probably takes amazing resilience, practice, dedication to the craft, and some other sprinkle of magic to fold up into a pretzel or fit into a cylinder most wouldn't put their legs in. 

In my most recent therapy appointment, we were talking about how everything that I've been through in the past four years (longer if we go back to my original cancer diagnosis) has increased my ability to pinpoint when my high expectations are spiraling out of control, or my relationship with my body is hitting an all-time low, or any number of painful thoughts are causing stress and suffering. 

It looks something like this: 

We were with my parents over the holiday break and I watched as my mom kept her house neat and tidy, while entertaining my three-year-old, baking delicious treats nearly every night (and helped me make a to-go dinner for a friend who is recently postpartum). She folded our laundry before we realized the washer had finished. She made personalized dinners for the two dogs in the house. This woman is a fairy - she is magic and selfless. It has long been my struggle measuring my own mothering skills to hers and most of the time, coming up short. 

I know she and I are not the same people. We do not have the same life experiences. We do not have the same kind of husband. We do not have the same talents. And we differ on some of our values. I know that comparing myself to her is moot. It's not a fair measuring stick. It's not even something that when I think rationally about it, I necessarily want. But while she appears indefatigable and perfect and lovely, I am in a body that is still healing from a recent cancer-related surgery (and sepsis, then a cold. . .) and for all of these reasons, it is unrealistic to make the comparison. I needed years to learn this. I still need reminders. But I think I've learned it. 

I was discussing this new ability to catch myself when I'm spiraling. I see my mom cook, clean, and play with my son and think, "I could never do that. But I want to start." Then my mind immediately says, "Ok. That means going to bed early so that I can be well-rested to make breakfast when my family wakes up. I also need to have laundry in the wash and folded by the end of the day. I should set up a little activity or game so that we can be entertained. I need to get that chicken marinating about halfway through and if we want dessert, I need to also be thinking when I can fit that in. I don't want to default to the iPad or the TV, so we need to go to the library to get some books that will be entertaining and break out the puzzles. And should he start reading? No, potty training?! Also, our dog hasn't been eating her food, so I should probably also look into a special diet. Does she need a better spot to eat because it is kind of messy over there. I have to look presentable while all of this is happening, so I should make more of an effort to get to the gym and leave time for basic hair and makeup in the morning. Also, should I start recycling my glass again?"

If you do all of these things in a single day, you are also a fairy. But this is not our daily routine at present, and believing that I could immediately go to bed and wake up a fairy like my mom is unfeasible. My ability to acknowledge this and step back and say, "this is unrealistic. What if I just tried to get to bed before 1 AM tonight? That would be a good first step." Instead of berating myself or thinking that I am failing, I can reevaluate and come up with a reasonable first step. This has saved my sanity by giving me a chance to stop the whirlwind and steady the path forward. It is also a good reminder that I am not in competition with my mom. She can be my guiding light without me trying to clone myself or--to keep with the flexibility picture--fit myself into the mold she has created over the past forty years of being a mum.

My therapist stopped me and congratulated me on becoming more "emotionally flexible."

Flexible? Me. I always liked to think of myself as easy going and low maintenance, but I also know that I have been working hard to shed a lifetime of instilled black and white thinking. Of fighting against every strike and every forced change to my life plan. Flexibility has not been something that I have been good at. I don't want to have to be flexible all the time.

People who are highly proficient at yoga or who work as an acrobat in the Vegas shows, those people train for years. They perform feats of flexibility that most of us never will achieve. But if you told any one of them to be in a backwards bend and stay there, they would laugh at you. Flexibility is great, has its place, and is a feat. But it is also something that when asked to do long-term, forever, would become trying and grating over a period of time. 

Think about the last time you made a five-year plan, or even just New Year's resolutions. How many of those plans stayed perfectly on track? Life has a way of throwing unexpected curves - whether it's a career shift you never saw coming, a relationship that evolved differently than you imagined, or even just your daily routine being disrupted by something as simple as a broken coffee maker. My therapist pointed out that emotional flexibility helps develop the ability to bend without breaking when faced with any of life's “surprises.” It's about learning to say "okay, this isn't what I planned, but what's the next best step?" Sometimes that means adjusting your expectations, sometimes it means finding a creative workaround, and sometimes it means completely redrawing the map. The goal isn't to become so flexible that you lose your shape entirely - it's to find that sweet spot between rigidity and resilience.

So today I am applauding my new found skill of being emotionally flexible. But I'm wondering when I'll ever get to leave this backward bend I've been sitting in for going on four years now. I'm sure it will take just as much practice to get out of as it did getting into it.

These reframes and acknowledgments of progress that I've made in therapy have been invaluable as I continue to work through what life throws at me. If you're finding that you're lacking in flexibility, or struggling to find that balance between bending and breaking, we have therapists who can help you develop these skills. Reach out at rootsbrancheswellness.com/contact.