Picture perfect

‍Lounging on the balcony, the southern sun gently warms my face - like a grocery store heat lamp keeping a rotisserie chicken from cooling. A can of fizzy fruit flavours sits atop the side table and my hands hold open the pages of Sydney Lumet’s Making Movies. The hum of cars passing by on the road below is my white noise. To the outsider, I am living the dream. My vacation setup whispers, “Relaaaaax”.

‍So why can’t I sink into this moment, and just be? Why am I completely dysregulated?

This memory from a past warm weather vacation paints a picture of rest we covet, especially for those of us living in snow belts of the Great White North. Come February, my soul aches for blue skies without the windchill - the ease of a summer’s breeze, preferably before Valentine’s Day.

I turn on my TV nowadays and see travel agencies (those still exist?) and credit card reward programs painting the same picture. “Long winter? Get away from it all! Head somewhere your skin can feel some humidity. Let the aches of winter melt away in the dog days of the southern hemisphere”.

our getaways don’t always deliver the true vacation and real rest we crave.

Yet, no matter how glorious the destination, our getaways don’t always deliver the true vacation and real rest we crave. 

False rest

In my work as a psychotherapist, I have come across many folks with stories like mine after  vacations: “It feels like I never actually got away!” they report, with noses still red or freckled from the sun.

Why?

Why is it that so many of us  do not experience true rest, even when our environment allows  — or even seems designed — for it?

Two great minds of our generation offer an explanation:

In the words of mindfulness expert Jon Kabat-Zinn: “Wherever you go, there you are”.

Or as Adam Sandler’s faux-travel guide on Saturday Night Live reminds potential travellers to Italy: “If you are sad where you are, and then you get on a plane to Italy, the You in Italy will be the same sad You from before… just in a new place.”

Does my life include genuine rest? And if not, why not?

What Kabat-Zinn and Sandler are getting at is a simple question with difficult answers: Does my life include genuine rest? And if not, why not?

Oh baby

Let’s return to my balcony setup from before. Time to admit that I omitted one key detail about my setup: It comes from the era of diapers and “da-da,” from the period of my life dictated by naps and newborns. Sitting beside my fizzy drink is a baby monitor, showing me in real time my 5 month old son attempting, and failing, to connect sleep cycles in his nap. If that term means nothing to you, you probably aren’t shuddering right now like those who know the breath-holding that happens between 30 and 45 minutes into a baby’s nap - when they are most awake and must find a way to fall back to sleep or risk a short nap.

This detail is the reason I am finding zero joy in reading my book. Even the drink tastes flat when I remember to peel my eyes off the monitor long enough to realize I am parched. I curse the sun under my breath because I can’t see the monitor well in this light. I am nearing a level of fight or flight activation that is completely ruining the moment.

My brain cannot tell, in this particular moment, the difference between a wolf charging at me, and my baby failing to connect sleep cycles. My wired-in security system is ringing every alarm bell in an attempt to help me… survive?

‍Defining terms, keeping watch

Let’s take a minute to define some terms. A concept I routinely return to in therapy is the cultural misunderstanding of stress and stressors. “I’m so stressed!” I say when my schedule runs tight. “This project is such a stress,” isn’t unfamiliar.

The crux of our common misunderstanding is that stressors are mostly external, while stress, or a stress response, is inherently internal, as in, occurring within the “four walls” of the human body.

Picture your ancestors out for a forage. They are looking for some tasty berries on the open plains. But they are also very aware of their surroundings. The field is ideal for berry picking, but leaves them exposed to not only the elements, but fierce beasts looking for a lunch of their own.

The wired-in security system in their bodies (and in yours too!) keeps a vigilant watch on the horizon for danger. And if a flash of movement catches an eye, that same system will do something spectacular. It will produce adrenaline and cortisol in order to mobilize the safety-seeking system; this is no time to ponder the intricacies of philosophy, this is life or death! The resulting surge of energy activates the Sympathetic Nervous System, resulting in shallow breathing, increased muscle rigidity, and a heart rate bump that pumps extra blood to extremities to prepare for movement - turning off the “upstairs” part of the brain in an effort to prioritize movement.

This “fight or flight” system, as it is usually called, is our baseline security system for keeping ourselves alive in the face of danger. And what a job it’s done! Remember those ancestors? You wouldn’t be here without their fight or flight systems doing their jobs.

Even though I live in relative security (I say with gratitude knowing not everyone has access to that privilege) and do not encounter tigers in my comfortable, modern existence, my fight or flight system still hasn’t caught up to the times. So what do we do with all this?

Know (and love) thy self

Whenever I meet someone new, the typical feedback I get (when offered) is that I am, categorically, a chill guy. I’ve worn this title like a badge of honour for a long time. Stress levels rising all around me? Eric isn’t reacting. You’d think, given this fact, that my difficulty coping with my baby’s poor nap is paradoxical. And my mind churns up a story to do the same. Self-criticism floods in, demanding an explanation for why I am struggling so much just to stay calm.

“You shouldn’t be so worked up by this,” rings loud in my ears.

Many people fall into this same pattern: stress response activates, followed by self-criticism for feeling stressed in the first place. “You shouldn’t be so worked up by this,” rings loud in my ears.

I picked up an analogy somewhere along my professional journey that says self-criticism is our attempt to “train” ourselves to be better, like the horse that is hit every time it missteps. Sometimes the results look positive (the horse now performs at a high level), but what this leads to is an eroded sense of self. When avoiding the stick is our primary motivator, we not only base our performance on fear, but rob ourselves of the opportunity to learn and grow. Like the parent who shouts at their child for dropping a plate, no new learning takes place. No alternatives are explored. Shame (self-criticism’s best friend) is an expedient behavior modifier but a poor long-term strategy.

It’s time to sturdy myself and drop into my body.

Next stop: Regulation station!

The Herculean task before me is one sentence long:  It’s time to sturdy myself and drop into my body.

A deep breath (in through the nose and out the mouth) helps send a signal to my brain to do a reality check: Upstairs brain, reengage please. I relax my shoulders (currently up by my ears) and unclench my jaw (a.k.a vice grip) to tell my body it can ease off the tension. I practice self-talk and support the part of me craving rest by reassuring it that anyone would be finding it hard to rest when nap uncertainty matters so much. Yes, the baby may be tired and cranky for the next few hours, but this is not an emergency.

These techniques are from the therapy toolbag I use with clients almost daily, yet in the moment I can still struggle to practice what I preach. The surge of dysregulation floods me, taking every ounce of a grounding practice started over half a decade ago to calm myself.

Your “tigers” will change throughout your life. But once you understand the effort your brain uses to keep you safe, you can match it with intentional action of a different, more loving sort. The kind that calms and focuses, leading to a clearer, more present mind that can truly soak in the restful moments - at home and abroad.

‍Packing your bags

I still think about that day on the balcony. From the outside, it really did look like a near-perfect moment, designed for rest. Even so, my body was on high alert, tuned into that monitor and doing its best to protect something it loved. 

That version of me didn’t need a better vacation or a sunnier patio as much as he needed support, awareness, and compassion.

We don’t find rest just because of a new view or change in setting. That version of me didn’t need a better vacation or a sunnier patio as much as he needed support, awareness, and compassion. The kind of rest I’m looking for won’t come from ignoring or escaping stressors (the body is too wise for that), but from recognizing the stress I carry, and tending to it. I know that to really enjoy a vacation - or even enjoy a moment - the way I’d like, I need to feel safe enough to exhale, wherever I am.

As summer approaches and your mind dreams of cabins, beaches and getaways, consider taking some time to pack a few new tools that can help you experience the rest you need while you’re away. Notice any fear or stress you feel around the time away - the logistics you’ll have to manage, whether you’ll be there long enough to enjoy it, how you’ll feel when your vacation ends. Notice any other, unrelated stressors you’re likely to carry with you into the time. If you’re like me, you’re probably well-versed in pushing those feelings aside until they arrive (or explode!). 

Try to think about what you’ll need in order to really relax into that lounge chair, to enjoy the time, however brief. Have a look back at the steps I took above; diaphragmatic breathing helps me level out, no matter my surroundings. Perhaps you are a list maker and find deep peace in visually crossing all to-do’s off your list before truly sinking into the moment. Whatever your flavour, if a tool, technique, or piece of advice helps turn down the alarm bells for you, then the real rest is likely to follow.