Showing up in survival mode (and the value of repair)
Every once in a while (or pretty frequently as far as the last 18 months have gone) I find myself looking around and thinking…
Is it this hard for everyone, or is it just me?
Because part of my work is holding space for other humans are in survival mode, I know the answer is a resounding no — I am most definitely not the only one struggling.
The last week or two has been one of those particularly intense pockets for several people that I know.
(I was about to say “I don’t know why” but I have theories; many centre around the stress of transition that comes with this season, especially as we head into even more unknown.
Without going down the rabbithole that is the cocktail of crises du jour today, I want to share a story that I’ve told on no less than four times this week to people who reached out while they were in the thick of it.
Each conversation had different elements — some were dealing with their children, others had tension with their parents, and for some, it was a battle on all fronts. But in spite of those differences, there was a shared theme:
Showing up in survival mode, and the value of repair.
A lot of our expectations in life (well, a lot of my expectations) are shaped around showing up at our best…or at the very least, to be a decent human being.
But the truth is that we aren’t always on our best behaviour, especially when we’re stressed AF, and sometimes we cause hurt in spite of our best intentions.
At this point, we know perfection isn’t cute or realistic, and theoretically, to expect that we’ll make mistakes along the way. But that doesn’t mean we do a great job of anticipating how we’ll actually react in moments of reckoning, especially when we’re decidedly not at our best.
When our needs are met and we have reserves to give from, we’re more likely to show up the way we want to — with patience, empathy, thoughtfulness, and generosity.
When we’re overwhelmed, depleted, and exhausted, those traits are harder to come by. We’re more likely to make mistakes, we say things we don’t mean, and we hurt the people we care about most.
Here’s the thing: conflict is inevitable — it’s what we do in the aftermath that matters most.
And that’s the space that I’ve met so many people in over the last few weeks…hunkered down in survival mode, surveying the wreckage of protective mechanisms in overdrive, paralyzed about how to move forward.
So. What happens next?
Before I dive into my story, I want to say this:
I usually start the boundary setting conversation talking about the boundaries that we set with our Selves, because the truth is that you are the only one you can control, just like I am the only one I can control.
(Infuriating. I know.)
The truth is that our boundaries don’t end with us because we exist in relationship with each other. Every action we take, or neglect, has a consequence; one that ripples out.
But I’m a believer that the act of damage is not where the process ends, nor is it the most important part of an engagement — the value is in the repair.
I see people get stuck in the harm part of the story, as the perpetrator or the recipient, all the time. And while taking responsibility for your piece of an interaction is absolutely important, it’s not helpful to spiral either way.
No matter which side of the spectrum you fall on, being able to separate yourself from those stories is key to setting a boundary, letting go, and moving on.
Okay. Story time!
This is a story about losing my cool over water and ice cubes at bedtime. 🎬
Depending on how well you know me, you may or may not be aware that I’m absolutely not at my best when I am tired, hungry, and stimulus-ed out. I start reaching my limit after dinner, cling to my last shred of sanity until about 8:30pm, and after that, I go full-on Momster.
There is no chill left.
After a summer of obliterating our circadian rhythms with more late nights than is probably clinically recommended for young children, we’ve spent the last couple weeks trying to find a semblance of routine, especially at bedtime. Which was chaos.
We landed on a countdown of sorts that contains time to do all the things necessary pre-bed, as well as the unnecessary things. Last minute snacks are had (or dinner is finished), teeth are brushed, water cups are refreshed, there’s time for quiet playtime, and then, it’s go the fuck to bed time.
Of course, there’s always something that will get in the way of the sweet release that comes when children sleep — the other night, it was the fact that the fresh water wasn’t cold enough.
It was after 9:00pm, and The Momster had emerged.
Normally I try to choose my battles, which means letting most of them go.
Do I actually care that he wanted ice cubes? No. Was it a big deal to go to the kitchen and do the thing? No.
But I had nothing left to give — not even the 45 seconds it would take to do the thing he asked — and while it was important to him, it was absolutely unreasonable to me.
So I picked the battle…which, in my mind (and body), wasn’t just about the ice cubes.
It was about setting the precedent that he doesn’t just get his way because.
It was about acknowledging the difference between a want and a need.
It was about me making sure his needs are met, not waiting on him hand and foot.
It was about him getting good quality sleep, because the consequences of an overtired child are something I definitely don’t have the capacity to deal with.
In that moment, my tired/hungry/overwhelmed Self was screaming to have her needs met, and I officially reached my limit. Our conversation escalated until I just couldn’t anymore.
“I. DON’T. CARE.” I snarled. “You’re FINE.”
And he crumpled a little bit. He got quiet, rolled over, and snuggled under his blanket.
I wish I could say that in the moment, I immediately recognized the impact my words had on him, owned it, and apologized. But I didn’t.
I knew that I messed up by getting so short with him over something so trivial, but I was also in a really amped up state — fists clenched, short breathe, clenched jaw…I was primed to lash out.
I was in full-on Self-protection mode so I said “I love you, good night,” and left the room before I said anything worse.
In the space that followed my retreat, I started to calm down and come back to myself.
I knew I hadn’t responded the way I wanted to, and that I had to go and apologize.
So I did.
I told him that I was sorry for losing my temper and reacting the way that I did, because even when I’m frustrated, it’s still important that I’m kind.
And you know what he said to me?
He said, “It’s okay Mom. I know that you’re tired, and I told myself that you meant you don’t care about the water, not that you don’t care about me.”
He was exactly right.
(Well, almost. I clarified that it wasn’t okay for me to yell, but appreciated that he understood why I reacted poorly.)
The fact that my 6 year old could separate my adult tantrum from what it meant about him made me so happy, because I'm pretty sure that skill helps us to develop a healthy sense of self-worth — and that determines what kind of behaviour we engage in, or accept from other people.
It’s the birthplace of our boundaries, or, can be where shame takes root.
So. I thanked him for understanding, gave him a snuggle, we said good night for real, and then I finally got to eat and go to bed.
[ end scene 🎬 ]
Now. I don’t share that because I think it’s a perfect example of repair.
I share it in part because I’ve spent most of the last several years half-convinced that I’ve traumatized by kids beyond repair...while doing my best.
I’ve been so entrenched in healing my own shit and just trying to make it through the day, so that I can parent them in a conscious and supportive way — not trying to shield them from all of life’s hardships, but setting them up with the skills and resilience to navigate the ebb and flow.
I believe that the only thing stronger than a relationship never broken is one that’s been broken and repaired, because that’s where trust grows.
I believe this is true of the relationship I have with my partner, my kids, my family, my friends, and my Self.
And while I do my best to trust the process and make the next right choice, the journey doesn’t come without fear.
So much of the work that I do personally is so that I don’t pack up a bunch of toxic emotional baggage to send off with my kids into adulthood. And because my kids are still so young, and almost completely lacking in rational or logical thought, I’m putting in a lot of reps here, usually without seeing the results.
(It’s incredibly draining.)
Moments like the other night give me hope that while the experience has been far from picturesque, we’re on the right track.
Yes, there are going to be moments of fracture — like yelling over ice cubes — but.
I’m hoping that they will remember the melody as a whole, instead of each individual note…good or bad.
And I’m trusting the process.
I was planning to wrap this email by giving a nod to how I set mental and emotional boundaries so that I can let go and move on instead of getting stuck or spiralling in the wake of conflict…but as per usual, I have to remind myself that this is just an email, not a book.
So. I’m going to sign off here, and will pick up next time by talking about how to set internal boundaries and answer the feelings we’d rather avoid.
And. If you’ve been going through IT lately, don’t hesitate to hit reply and say hey — because if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that loneliness makes everything feel worse.
I may not be able to do more than send a few words of support or solidarity your way, but sometimes that can be enough to make us feel less alone and I'm here for it. 💛
As per always, thank you for being here to read the words I put on the internet.
There’s a special place in my heart that’s filled up by knowing that other humans are also out there doing their best to not be total shitheads — and if you’re receiving this email, you’re one of those people.
With big love and healthy boundaries,
xo Justine
PS. I had a really fun conversation with Gina and Rachel from the Women Your Mother Warned You About podcast last week, and it went live a couple days ago!
We talked about the physical and mental connection of stress, honing in on its sources, how we can better understand stress to change our reaction to it, the counterproductiveness of people-pleasing, setting true boundaries, and. becoming comfortable with uncomfortable things.
I wanted to tell you more about it today but got distracted by all the survival mode repair stuff, so you'll just have to trust me and check it out: Boundaries, Stress, and Throwing Axes.