Do you ever feel like your life consists of simply keeping all the plates spinning? I know I do.<\/p>\n
On good days, I look at all the crockery I\u2019ve got under full rotary control and smile smugly. On other days, it can feel like I\u2019m just barely keeping the plates from crashing down like a porcelain house of cards. Like recently, when my son\u2019s teacher emailed one Wednesday evening to inform us she would be off sick until the end of the week. I found myself cancelling three appointments for the next day then looking after my three-year-old while completing writing assignments with unmoveable deadlines by working in a tag-team shift system with my husband, and schlepping my little boy into central Paris when I went for a medical check-up I\u2019d booked months before and was not about to push back.<\/p>\n
I was having a moan<\/span> discussion with my husband about this feeling of chasing my tail when it occurred to me that my feelings of overwhelm were in part due to the metaphor I was using and, as a result, the story I was telling myself about my life. What if I wasn\u2019t spinning plates, in fact? What if my narrative were different?<\/p>\n The stuff of life<\/strong><\/p>\n The other realisation I came to while whining<\/span> talking to my husband was that harking back to simpler days when I all I had to manage was school, friends and a few hobbies was pointless. Life is no longer easy; perhaps it never was. So many of us yearn for a simpler life, by which we mean one that is pared down and stripped back to the essential. A million wellbeing magazines and articles tell us that slowing down, doing less and BEING more are the answers to all our ailments. And it\u2019s true that during the recent lockdowns the lack of places to go and people to see was actually something of a relief to many of us. However, while I definitely felt the pressure to DO and SEE and GO ease off under lockdown, I wouldn\u2019t want to live that way all the time. Because isn\u2019t some degree of plate-spinning in fact the very stuff of life? I don\u2019t mean breathless rushing, double-booking and overworked stress, but the juggling we do to ensure the kids get to school, do homework, eat well, see friends and take part in hobbies; to plan holidays, weekends away, day trips and evenings out; to engage with our work fully and carve out fulfilling careers; to see friends, take care of our health and stimulate our minds. While it often feels like all these to-do items are weighing me down, keeping me busy, and causing brain-ache, they are all activities I have chosen for myself at some point. And they are not going away (nor would I want them to), so why bemoan the spinning plates? Why not simply bin them and find a new metaphor?<\/p>\n The story I\u2019m telling myself is\u2026<\/strong><\/p>\n In her filmed talk \u201cThe Call to Courage\u201d, the higher being that is Bren\u00e9 Brown shared how she uses the phrase \u201cThe story I\u2019m telling myself is\u2026\u201d to defuse arguments with her husband. She offers it up as a way of expressing one\u2019s own interpretation of behaviour or events that might not be accurate or real but which is \u201cthe story I\u2019m telling myself\u201d. It occurs to me that we are constantly telling ourselves stories about our lives. And the literary devices we use \u2013 like metaphors and similes, to which I am particularly partial \u2013 are not just descriptive but prescriptive. They don\u2019t just express what we feel, they can create it. So, each time I picture myself in a circus ring with a big red nose on frantically spinning plates, my mental image stresses me out. So what if I changed the story I\u2019m telling myself? What if I imagine myself as a strong and sturdy oak tree holding its branches high and supporting its lush foliage with grace and ease? My chest releases and I can breathe a little easier. The tree bends in the storm, but is flexible enough not to be broken. Sometimes it drops a few leaves, but nothing catastrophic occurs, and new ones grow. Occasionally a bird lands on a bough, adding a little extra weight, but the tree knows it\u2019s just temporary and that it can survive. If we push my metaphor to the extreme (and why wouldn\u2019t we?), the tree also knows when it\u2019s able to carry more leaves and when it\u2019s the right moment to shed a few and take a break.<\/p>\n What a difference that image makes! Suddenly the story I\u2019m telling myself is one of capability, strength and stability as opposed to panicking, rushing and flirting with failure. It\u2019s about me making a choice which leaves I allow to grow on my branches, as opposed to dancing to the tune of some sadistic ringmaster. One story empowers and calms me, the other robs me of agency – and sleep. In the end, I still have the same to-do list, and I haven\u2019t used any self-help hacks to boost my productivity, prioritise and prune my relationships, or learn to delegate. I\u2019ve simply changed the story I\u2019m telling myself, throwing all those plates to the ground like I\u2019m in a touristy Green restaurant and choosing a new metaphor that works for my peace of mind, not against it.<\/p>\n So, what would happen if you went all \u201cchoose your own adventure\u201d on some of the stories you\u2019re telling yourself? How might changing the way you imagine and describe yourself and your life offer you greater control, strength, flexibility, self-respect, peace, joy and energy? What new story will you choose to tell yourself today?<\/p>\n
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