What pushes us over the edge isn’t always what takes us there

My first car was a 1986 Mitsubishi Nimbus.

And apparently, according to AI, this is roughly what it looked like, and what I looked like back in the late 80s. Pretty funny really.

Anyway, my current car is considerably less interesting, but something happened with it the other day that gave me a reflection I wanted to share.

My rego was due.

It wasn’t a big deal, but on this particular day it pushed me over the edge a little. I became anxious and irritable about something I’d usually have no problem dealing with.

I was about 100 kilometres from home and away from my usual mechanic, but still, it really wasn’t that significant.

And it reminded me of something I often share with the people I work with.

The thing that pushes us over the edge is seldom the same thing that takes us to the edge in the first place.

The first thing I did was completely accept where I was at.

No criticism. No internal conversation about how I should be able to handle this and more. Just complete acceptance that my system was starting to max out.

It can seem like a passive step but, from my experience, that level of compassion and consideration actually creates space to deal with whatever is in front of us.

Then I looked back over the previous month or so.

No wonder I was maxing out.

In the weeks leading up to this, I’d been processing the passing of two people pretty close to me, as well as some significant health concerns for other people I care about.

At the same time, I was building a new website, developing a new offering, reviewing my book and looking after my usual clients.

It was a lot.

I also reflected on the decisions I’d made that required me to work in ways that drained my energy. Where had I said yes to something that wasn’t really right for me, either in the thing itself or simply in the timing?

And then, what decisions could I make now?

I actually felt rather peaceful once I made it to this point. The acceptance had settled me down, and the reflection helped me understand why I was feeling the way I was and showed me some options.

I reprioritised. I pushed back some deadlines around new initiatives and recalibrated the expectations I had placed on myself.

The following day, I took a few hours and walked through the bush to a remote beach.

I talked less too.

I appreciate the idea that a problem shared can be a problem halved, but in that moment my system was asking for solitude and quiet.

So I listened to it and honoured that.

Funny thing is, amongst the walking and quiet, I was still really productive.

That’s what can happen when our composure comes back and we find a better tempo.