Fallow Time

Some years ago a friend named Olivia taught me the concept of fallow time. Farmers understand the need to allow soil to rest. We in the West seem to have lost touch with that wisdom. I want to slow down more. Then more. Then even more.

In the four years since entering a program of recovery to help me achieve escape velocity from a hamster-wheel cycle of unhealthy relationships, I have learned a lot across many fields of psychological and human relational study. In studying human attachment theory, I learned that while I tend toward anxious/insecure in relationships, I also have a defense mechanism that could be a footnote under "anxious/insecure" that goes something like, "with avoidant activation." I can suddenly decide it's time to go without shedding a tear. I'm trying right now to discern what to leave and what not to leave, what to cut out and what not to cut out. I am attempting to discern this in consultation with friends and wise counsellors rather than indulging in a giant Irish goodbye.

My old, unhealthy pattern was one of codependency. That, to me, means attaching very quickly to someone without knowing them, usually someone who has an unaddressed addiction, untreated mental health issue, or similar, so that I might spend all my time, energy, and focus on that person's perceived pathology while gleefully diverting all attention from my own areas in need of growth and development. Jumping in to rescue another from the natural consequences of his / her choices can be an addiction for some of us. I'm in recovery from that addiction.

Those of us whose childhood experience branded into the limbic system that a constant tap-dance of performance and helping is the only path to worthiness of a place on the planet can find it very, very difficult to rest even for one day. We feel guilty; a sense of "I should be doing something productive" hovers over us like a dark cloud, and zaps of anxiety crackle between us and that cloud like lightning.

Today I gave myself the gift of a day in which I did no grocery shopping, no cooking, no cleaning, no laundry, no volunteer work, no sneaking onto MS 365 to check work email or fill out the timesheet I left undone when I took a mental health day on Friday. I slept late, left the bed unmade, chatted with my recovery partner in St. Louis (she and I have been supporting each other for about three years now with weekly morning phone convos without ever having met), then spread a craft project all over the bed. I headed out to the library to do some color printing, and my growling tummy told me to seek out sustenance even though my lovely breakfast of oatmeal topped with a handful of superfoods was just a couple of hours behind me.

Eating at Flora Jean's is an act of self-love is how I see it. The pace is slow. Noah knows me, and my mood lifts when he takes the time to ask about my day. After CALS let me print out pictures for my craft project, I returned to Mom's house / my current home. Because it's not 100% my space, and because I cherish alone time in my own space, I tarried in the driveway a long time--at first considering a nap there in the chilly car, then pushing the seat back to gobble up two more chapters in Ginny Moon by Benjamin Ludwig.

Eventually I plodded back inside to enjoy more hours by myself with the bedroom door closed. I sketched and cut, pasted and colored for several more hours before giving into, once again, a protesting tummy. There is a lot of the kale and pasta dish left from last night, and I was delighted not to have to scrounge around or settle for PB and J.

Fallow time.

I'm thinking about the book I read decades ago titled The Language of Letting Go: Daily Meditations on Codependency by Melody Beattie. It used to have a subtitle that addressed the book to "women who do too much," I believe. Either way, I want to stop being a woman who does too much and start being a woman with lots and lots of downtime and creative time.

How about you? Are you satisfied with the time available to you for rest and self-care?