What I learned in 2021: takeaways for a new year
2021 was a year of massive shifts and changes for so many - myself included. I left my leadership role, started my own business, had the great privilege to take a 6-month traveling sabbatical with my husband and 2-year old son, and had some primary relationships changed dramatically. The big changes and the time away meant I finally got to internally traverse some emotional territory that I’d been avoiding as well as integrate some of what I’d already been stewing on in fits and starts. Amidst all wild rollercoaster of the past few years, my little family’s 2021 journey was quite literally that - we covered over 15,000 miles of earth. But it was an emotional one as well, and I am emerging anew, ready for 2022 with new insights and opportunities. Here is a piece of what is standing out as my personal takeaways from 2021 in all their raw and hopeful honesty.
Feeling all the feels.
In the early days of my sabbatical, I read Burnout by the Emily and Amelia Nagoski. Although much of the book didn’t feel entirely new (literally who isn’t burned out by the past several years?) its central theme still deeply resonated. The book posits that in order to avoid Burnout - we need to do something deceptively challenging - feel our feelings. The stressors of daily life, of living with any marginalized identity, of work and family - this stress stays mostly unprocessed, locked in our bodies, wreaking havoc until it comes out in unhealthy ways. Health issues, relationship issues, work issues - essentially all of it can be chalked up to unreleased, unprocessed emotions.
What surprised me more than this thesis is realizing just how much I’d been holding in. In the early days of my sabbatical, without the distractions of an all-consuming job and a never-ending litany of household chores, I felt like a veritable faucet of emotions - they came pouring out. Some of it was old stuff - stuff I should have worked through already but hadn’t, or stuff I’d been burying for actual years. Some of it was more recent grief over changing relationships and the heartache that comes with that. Some was related to the stress and sadness of being a human right now in the midst of so much suffering, immediate and ancient. These emotions surfaced through journaling, through movement, and through simply allowing them some space at the table. When I let them have their space, I saw clearly that all emotions offer information and lessons; they clarify unmet needs, invitations for change, or our values. It was my thoughts about them that caused the strife - not the emotions themselves.
2022 is certain to bring new challenges, and new feelings. I’m committed to finding practices that allow for this regular processing, even when the distractions - and the chores - return, so that emotions move through me and I might live more presently, compassionately, and intentionally.
Committing to ease.
The tension between ease and effort is one that most yoga practitioners understand. When you contort yourself into impossible shapes, the teachers askyou to slow down your breath, smooth out your brow, and allow the pose to be both hard and soft at the same time. Despite having a yoga practice for years now, I hadn’t learned how to translate this concept into my day to day life. After muscling through nearly 15 years of professional life, I’d mostly learned how to make shit happen by hook or by crook - and it worked, to a point. Muscling through is more like running a marathon - heavy breathing, refusal to quit, and probably getting injured in the process. All this means that the successes I had came at a cost, reinforced by the toxicity of capitalism, white supremacy, and patriarchy. These oppressive systems tell us that our value is in what we produce. While I’d understood these concepts, I hadn’t implemented a strategy to actively resist them and not overdo everything. Taking a break - stepping out of my pattern and starting a new business (both a revolutionary and privileged act in itself), gives me license to try doing things a new way and invite more ease with intention. As I start my new venture in an uncertain world, my goal is to practice ease. To allow for spaciousness. To set better boundaries. As the Nap Ministry recounts, “rest is resistance.”
Becoming my own teacher.
Folks that know me know that for years I’ve leveraged Tarot for insight, growth, and self-discovery. I’ve done so for the last seven years, and I continue to encounter epiphanies through the symbols and teachings of this millennia old practice. The Hierophant, traditionally, is a card that represents external and often patriarchal structures - the ingrained beliefs we hold deeply within ourselves - and the stuff we have to unlearn. 2021 was a heirophant year numerologically, and I think a lot of folx were in the process of untangling their inner knowing from the grip of what we’ve been socialized to believe. That’s some deep shit. The Tarot teacher I follow, Lindsay Mack, said, of 2021: “There is no gatekeeper - there is no teacher. This was an awakening around our relationship with the folks that are teaching us.” Oof.
While this detangling happens so much internally, my choice to “go out on my own” was an external manifestation of this process. I no longer have an organization to serve, a boss to report to, or an HR department to comply with. I’ll need to make decisions based on my own (and my community’s) intuition, knowledge, and values to determine what is most of service to myself and others. Internally, I, like so many others, am working on rewiring my brain to listen to myself instead of some supposed all knowing structure or teacher. In 2022, I plan to continue the work of clarifying and communicating with is true from the inside out, in right relationship with my mentors and community - alongside them.
Cultivating compassion in parenthood.
Although I’m not working in a traditional salaried job during my sabbatical, I have, in fact, been working. I’m not even talking about the few clients I’ve taken on. I’m talking about the (much more constant) unpaid labor of motherhood, and while it’s labor I love, it’s still labor. It’s not only the physical (although that’s been intense; mothering a toddler 24/7 is truly phenomenal exercise), but the emotional work that’s been the most consuming. Don’t get me wrong - I wouldn’t trade this time for the damn world. I’m in love with my son. But full-time parenting is f-ing hard, especially on the road. During the middle of our trip, I shared with my best friend that I was feeling burnt, and not just by the constant tending to others’ needs. It was the constant processing of guilt, shame, and my own childhood that had me shook. My friend told me that I was on what she called a “motherhood accelerator,” and that made so much sense to me. I have been fast-tracking my way through years of ancestral motherhood-related unpacking, and at times it’s been like drinking from a firehose. But the benefits? I am already treating myself, as a parent, with vastly more self-compassion than I was before. I am healing pieces of my relationship with my own mother with more compassion. I can accept the parts of me that are prickly, are triggered by whining on tantrums, or just need a break. It’s not easy, but I’m more aware now than I was before just how much self-compassion is required to love ourselves as parents - and how much compassion we need to have for others in their parenting journeys, including our own caregivers. I am excited to do this in community upon my return.
Remembering our inherent gifts.
The pandemic, the political and social upheaval, and deep divisiveness have drawn on our reserves these past several years, in big ways - marginalized folx most of all. People are naturally creative, resourceful, and whole. Co-Active Coaching Training Institute (CTI) leverages this concept as the basis for it’s framework. Leaving my leadership role, uprooting my family and taking a 6-month traveling sabbatical has shown me just how true it really is.
Take my two year old. This incredible kid has traveled 11,000 miles by car (and much more by air!), visited over 25 states, slept in countless AirBnbs, hotels, and family guest rooms, and has proven that, even for an allegedly routine-obsessed toddler, adaptability is accessible. It simply requires creativity, resourcefulness, and wholeness, which toddlers naturally have. And while it hasn’t always been cute, and has involved its fair share of tears and meltdowns, it’s been overwhelmingly positive. Toddlers have a way of figuring things out, living with inherent optimism and gusto, and accepting the intense emotions along with the good ones. They have to - their worlds are ever changing and they must adapt to keep up. They naturally seek connection when faced with obstacles, prioritize love and affection, and see others’ humanity. These tools often atrophy in the face of modern life as we age, and even small changes can seem like threats - not to mention big ones.
As I enter the next phase of my vocational journey, working with leaders as a coach and partner in their work, our trip has served as an ever present reminder that we all truly are creative, resourceful and whole when faced with even seemingly insurmountable challenges and that no matter the outcome, that will always be true if we choose to see it.
2022, here we bravely come.
