I Don't Care About Fixing
On reaching towards maintenance & expansion
Hi, sweet beans. Thanks for reading Healing Field Notes, a newsletter I send out twice a month. This newsletter will always be a free offering. However, consider a paid subscription if you’d like to support my writing.
Growing up, my grandmother always made it a point to tell me I was dealt a rough hand of cards. That was the narrative throughout my childhood and something every family member would remind me of on the rare occasion of a visit. But let’s be real – we’re all dealt a rough hand of cards in our own way, some more than others. I hate the metaphor of the cards. I don’t play cards or think of life as some game. Instead, I imagine we’re all given a toolbox.
When it came to managing my mental health, my toolbox arrived empty. When I first received mental health care as an 11-year-old, I was told something was broken, and my psychiatrist and therapist would use their tools to fix me.
When I say I imagine we are all given a toolbox, I mean our bodies and minds are a house, and sometimes, things start to leak. My toilet gets clogged. I need to patch a hole in the wall. I want to hang a nice picture of my friends or rip up old carpet. I didn’t need my mental health care team to use their tools to fix me, I needed them to give me my own tools and teach me how to use them in ways that honored me.
Over the weekend, I had a certified Mental Breakdown™, and my toolbox felt empty. I’ve worked for the last decade to gather tools and figure out that the Toddler Method™ (do I need a nap? snacks? recess?) is always a good starting point, but everything felt inaccessible. In clearer terms, every coping mechanism I had cultivated through therapy and healing didn’t feel helpful.
Every day, I have to actively resist the idea of being a self-improvement project and move into a maintenance mindset. My friend, Elly, shared something their aunt said: “Don’t talk to yourself in any way that feels familiar.” It’s familiar to think of myself as something to be fixed or always to be improved. A gentler way to approach the home of my body and mind is to consider its upkeep, depth, and expansion.
I don’t make New Year’s resolutions, but I heard a quote from Reyna that I will carry with me throughout this year and beyond. “We’re not a work in progress. We’re not a self-improvement project. It’s not about getting better, it’s about expanding. It’s about creating more depth. It’s not about being brand new. It’s about how many rings you’ve accumulated and how tall you’ve grown, how much you can see, how far you can reach and still maintain yourself and your integrity.”
When I feel like I need to “fix” my “broken” bedtime routine, I am learning to reach for the screwdriver to tighten up the habits I have abandoned. When I realize it’s 4 pm and I haven’t eaten lunch, I resist my recorded tape of self-hatred that plays “I’m so fucked up I can’t even feed myself” and reach for a nourishing snack to hold me over until dinner instead. It’s not that things are broken; they need some attention.
I can easily abandon my toolbox when operating out of fear or trauma. When I was having my Mental Breakdown™, I posted a video of me crying on my Close Friends list (something I generally don’t do) saying, “I don’t know what I need, but I know I need something. I don’t know what to ask for.” I sobbed my way through expressing that I thought I needed socialization. It’s all I knew to do. My best friend FaceTimed me and I was flooded with texts with no obligation to respond to with urgency. A blessing.
The tool I am least likely to reach for when I am in need of it is my tool of connection. I often revert to the familiarity of telling myself I’m a burden or feel too much. I also forget about the tool of noticing that it’s dark outside at 3 in the afternoon, so (as Frankie would say) it makes sense that I’m feeling sad. We’re in a pandemic, so it makes sense that I’m scared. I have a chronic illness, so it makes sense that I’m in pain. I have a history of emotional neglect, so it makes sense that I fear interpersonal rejection.
I don’t care about fixing. My tools aren’t here for that. They are here for me to use to expand my compassion toward myself. They are here to lengthen my time here on earth. They are here to maintain my ability to stay in connection. Once I start thinking of myself as something to fix, that is a familiarity I have to abandon.
I have worked hard to cultivate a toolbox I can use and share when needed. When the house of my body leaks and my tools aren’t working, that’s what connection is for. It’s not about playing our hand of cards right, it’s about using our tools to expand into ourselves and our community.
I am very excited to say that I have a new piece published in Insider about my experience with vaginismus. It is one of the most vulnerable pieces I’ve ever written & I’m just hoping it helps at least one person. You can read it here.
Finally took Mar’s Organizing A Day class & it was very good.
My ins and outs *yours will probably looks different, but there are mine
Chapbook submission opportunity! 👇🏻
You can find November’s episode of the Healing Field Notes podcast here. I talk about taking cues from the season, how not to become our mothers, and share some writing advice. I took a break from recording in December, but I’m returning this month! If you’d like to ask a question anonymously, you can fill out this Google Form.
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Love,
I so needed to read this coming into the new year! I am trying to focus my intentions for the year around rest and pleasure, not improvement.
Thank you for sharing, this was so resonant. Reaching for connection is the least familiar for me too, I'm so grateful for your words <3