When a Stressful Day Follows You Home
August can be a really challenging month.
Swim season ends, so the boys are home with endless energy. This August our local pool was closed (I know, gold-plated problems), so I couldn’t just take them there. Let them swim. Climb trees. Make friends. Eat questionable food from the snack shack because a meltdown is coming and the cooler is empty.
It is a great way to end summer. Endless days. Mild sunburns. And pruned toes.
This August got none of that.
By the time I was heading around the state doing PDs for schools, the house was all but falling down, tempers were explosive, and I was hugging my wife goodbye with equal parts joy and apologies.
Joy to get a break. Apologies for what she was going to be dealing with.
My trips to give PD’s are not a vacation. Last-minute time changes. Always less time to present, never more. Teachers that just want to set up their classrooms. Leaders that expect miracles.
On this specific trip I was asked to help 80+ teachers learn how to use nicer words so they caused fewer fights amongst themselves.
Yes, I am serious.
When you walk into a room full of anger, you can feel it. Your pulse increases. You start to mildly sweat. And your brain rehearses the opening lines as if they will make or break your day. Today was that type of day. This would require a lot of internal regulation. A lot of one-minute pauses. A lot of gratitude.
As the day progressed, I was able to receive their frustration. Acknowledge it. And help them choose a better way to articulate it.
The temperature slowly seemed to drop.
People were trying. Smiling. Reflecting. The occasional laugh sprinkled in. The room became safer.
The day ended. Leaders were happy. A couple of teachers even thanked me. I left the room better than when I entered.
The problem was, my nervous system still carried the load. Like a sponge that cleaned the dishes and never got squeezed out itself.
Filled with the mess. The anger. The stress. And slightly stinky.
I had helped the room work through those big feelings. I, on the other hand, absorbed them just like that slightly stinky sponge.
Nowhere to go as I walked back to my hotel.
The One-Minute Pause: Making Room for Gratitude
I wrote about the inspiration I often receive from John Eldredge. His one-minute pause had already become a go-to habit for me.
Seems short and sweet.
When my nervous system is fried, it is a long 60 seconds.
I was pretty sure that gratitude would help shift my attitude. I had practiced it enough to know it could help. With myself. With my boys. With others.
But in that moment, it felt just out of reach.
So I started with the simplest thing I could think of....
I set my timer. Locked my phone. Took out my headphones. And let my eyes wander.
People had their heads in their phones. Rushing. Bumping into each other.
Busses and trains moved loudly. Cars honked. Bikes weaved through all of them. Begging to be hit.
I was pretty sure this was not what John wanted my pause to be.
Zero calm. Zero peace. Zero space between me and the feelings I had absorbed.
My anxiety was laser focused on the things that were feeding my anxiety.
Slowly, my mind helped me notice other things.
A baby eating an ice cream cone. Pure joy. Pure mess.
An almost perfectly clear sky with just faint clouds holding on.
A small park appeared across the street that seemed to be an oasis in a concrete jungle.
I walked to it. Found a bench.
And did something Drew and I did all the time in our backyard.
A feeling of gratitude entered.
Thankful for my moments with Drew. Thankful for this random park bench. Thankful for a crazy staff session that brought me to this perfect moment.
My shoulders finally relaxed. My jaw unclenched. My lungs exhaled a breath I didn’t know I was holding in.
Eldredge’s one-minute pause just met Dr. Emmons’ gratitude.
On that bench. In the middle of the city. In my body.
The pause didn’t eliminate the feelings. The stress. The events.
It did create just enough margin in my mind to notice something different.
I wasn’t going to be able to ignore the stress of the day. Or forget it. Or bury it somewhere deep. It was real. But the pause helped me see it wasn’t the only thing happening.
The session was over. The stress and frustration was in the past. Yet, I was still the sponge. Still carrying it all.
What I was still carrying was making me miss what was happening right in front of me.
Nature. Calm. The birdies. And some how even though he was 500 miles away...
My son.
I wasn’t forcing gratitude. I just finally had enough space for something else to fill what frustration and stress was filling. Gratitude for the present. The gift.
Finding the Gift in the Present
I love animated movies. They are always packed with some subtle adult humor, lessons the whole family can discuss, and usually something that feels perfectly placed for me.
Which brings me to Kung Fu Panda.
I have showed clips of Ku Fu Panda to illustrate a lesson with teachers, coaches, and even my kids.
The main character is mildly overweight, food-loving, goofy panda named Po. (My kids might describe me like this too!)
In the middle of Po’s struggle to figure out who he is supposed to become, a slow moving turtle named Master Oogway interrupts his frustration and stress. He offers wisdom that somehow belongs in the movie and on the wall at a monastery.
“Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift. That’s why they call it the present.”
I have watched that scene a couple of dozen times. Laughed at it. Smiled at it. But until I found myself sitting on that park bench, did those words really hit me.
My tough day was now yesterday’s history. Ok, maybe it was only an hour ago. But, it was in the past but I was still bringing into my present. Robbing me of the gift that was right in front of me.
A little park. A beautiful sky. Some birdies holding my attention. And a memory of my son that made me feel like he was there sitting on my lap.
The 1-minute pause helped create space for me to return to the present. Gratitude filled that space showing me the gift right in front of me.
The Reset: Pause Before Gratitude
I really enjoy coaching people. Helping them work through difficult situations. Helping them know what is happening internally. Helping them feel less stress and more satisfaction.
At schools. At work. At home. Even on the baseball field.
Some moments I think I do a pretty good job.
Some moments I even manage to keep my mouth shut and just listen. My wife might not agree.
I am learning that making it through those difficult moments doesn’t usually mean I stop carrying them when it’s over.
No matter how much I clean the sponge after I use it to clean the dishes, it still carries the gunk from what it just washed. Its that gunk that can add up quick.
Gunk from a teacher session.
Gunk from a disagreement with my wife.
Gunk from snapping at my boys.
Gunk from a bad inning.
That gunk often times prevents me from jumping right into gratitude. It wants me to remember what I did. What I didn’t do. What I messed up. It wants me to stay gunky.
But I can breath.
Pause.
Look at what is happening in front of me.
Perhaps, I’ll notice a little gift I missed.
I am learning that the difficult moment doesn’t have to completely vanish for me to appreciate the moment I’m in.
Sometimes the gift is already there.
I just need a minute to notice it.
Keep Exploring About Gratitude
Read: I Didn’t Expect to Be Grateful in the Hospital Room - How a nightly practice helped gratitude show up in the middle of a lit of fear.
Try: Friday Fieldwork — Gratitude in the Hard Parts - A three step process to help dads like me find gratitude in the hard moments.
Listen: Watching the Birdies - A podcast reflection on how my 4 year old making me watch the birdies with him turned into the mindfulness practice I needed.