Tag: worry

What Questions Are You Asking? (Three Questions For Reconnection)

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

We are the questions we ask.

We are the way we inquire, curiously, about the world we work in.

As I was going through what was (for me), a difficult pregnancy, I looked to my partner and asked, time and time again:

“How do I make it through this?” 

It’s hard to believe now, but there were moments when I didn’t know whether it was worth it. I can go back and tell myself clearly now that yes, it’s absolutely worth it.

But then? Then, it was so hard.

How could I connect what I was doing in my body, what I was feeling, to what was coming ahead of me? 

And in his own frustration, he asked me,

“Well is there anything that you ARE excited about?” 

I realized that some of the worry, the stress, and the negativity — it was consuming me. It was becoming always. Everywhere.

We paused.

And began a simple ritual. A pattern of questions, each night, to help guide our minds towards the positive reflection, even amidst the challenges of near-constant vomiting.

#1: What was the best part of your day?

We whispered the questions to each other at night, just before drifting off into dreamland.

I’d have my pillows piled high under my knees and thighs, a body pillow wrapped around me to prop me up.

What are the moments that went right? What were the good pieces and the good bits?

And we’d look. We’d look hard, we’d look slowly, we’d find, we’d savor, we’d discover. Amidst the pain of it all, we’d find something. A sliver, a thread, a joy. 

#2: What are you grateful for?

We’d make a list of things that we were grateful for. 

I’m grateful that my body is working. I’m grateful that this is all working. I’m grateful that you’re here, even if I’m vomiting, and we get to clean up this mess together. I’m grateful I have a job.

Hope lifted upwards, wrapping me in its hug.

#3 What are you looking forward to about this?

In this case, “this” was the future arrival of our baby boy. Each night, we’d mention something we were looking forward to. Something in our hopes and dreams about this baby we were making.

This baby that was taking my energy, my body, my shape, my memory, my sleep. 

I’m looking forward to hearing him cry for the first time.

I’m looking forward to taking him on bike rides.

I can’t wait to hold his hand and feel his tiny fingers and toes.

I’m looking forward to discovering how he sees the world.

Through these questions of reflection, we’d connect.

We’d connect over our journey into becoming new parents. He would tell me about what he was scared of, what he was hopeful for, what he was imagining in the future.

We’d whisper it together in bed, holding hands, passing out like rockstar adults in the wee hours at 7 PM or 8 PM, on a lucky day.

Three questions to reflect

In the most challenging of times, try these on for size:

  • What was the best part of your day?
  • What are you grateful for?
  • What are you looking forward to {about X}? 

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Want to hear more about the journey of being pregnant while working at a startup? I’m writing a new book and opening a new project to talk about growing businesses, growing babies, and being a mama in the working world. Find out more at www.startuppregnant.com.

Should You Worry Now Or Later?

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

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There are so many unknowns coming ahead on the horizon:

Will we have a baby that sleeps or a baby that cries non stop?
Will I love being a mom or will it be an immense challenge?
Will I bond with my kid right away or will it take time?
Will breastfeeding be hard or easy?
Should we move to be closer to Alex’s work? Or stay because moving is hard?
Will the birth be difficult or not too bad?
How are we going to function on so little sleep?

None of these things are things I can know in advance. None of these things can I plan for — or even remotely change by worrying about them right now.

In fact, the enormity of some of these questions makes worrying about them seem ridiculous. I can’t know yet. I won’t know. There is peace in not knowing.

Alex has been repeating a mantra lately that has been calming and grounding:

Is there anything we can do about it now?

The answer is often no.

So we release the need to hold on to the fear and worry.

We will deal with it when it arrives.

What transpires is trust:

Can we trust our future selves to be able to figure it out? Will we be able to handle it?

The answer is resoundingly yes. We are (you are!) competent, capable, smart, resilient people. We can figure things out in real time. We can be present, knowing that we will make new discoveries when we need them.

Even if we have the hardest year of our lives. Even if nothing turns out as planned. Even if we have a better year than we can ever imagine (because often worry focuses just on the negative: it can also be far better than we know).

We will live through it. We will do the best we can.

I trust my current self to show up and learn and grow. So, too, do I trust my future self to be able to deal with what comes to me as it comes.

We cannot know in advance. That is part of the joy of living.

The masks we wear–how we hide who we are.

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

We all wear masks from time to time: in our words, our habits, and our practices. We have an arsenal of crutches and shortcuts that slowly but surely hide who we are. They are things that prop us up and help us hide. We hide from our feelings and our desires. We hide from who we might become.

We drink coffee as a mask for how tired we are, or to replace what is really a lack of motivation for a certain project we’re involved in.

It masks how tired you are of caring for a newborn infant, or how miserable your boss’s cutting remarks make you.

The alcohol that you drink at night masks the fear and the stress feel from not having control during your day. Perhaps it helps to cover up the loneliness of your cubicle or help you get  through another night.

We project false smiles of protection to hide our fears, to be desirable. We wear high heels and new clothes and carry certain bags and advertisements to show a sense of self, a projection, an idea. We use extroversion to be well liked. We chase busy to mask our fear of not leaving an impact.

We cover a lot of things up. Scars we carry, stories we hold, work we’re afraid of doing.

Our selves, deep inside.

It’s not always bad to have a mask…

It’s not terrible to have masks, but they can’t be our only way of dealing with the world. If we spend the entire time warding off the world and hiding from ourselves, we’ll miss the best parts. By hiding from the world, we hide ourselves, and we lose a piece of our souls.

Many of us have lost touch with ourselves, our souls, with the tender, tired, scared part of itself.

Here’s the catch…

Releasing a mask requires feeling. It requires having a real, honest, scary, less-than-desirable feeling. Letting go of your mask means you might need to say,

By golly, I’m tired.

And no, I don’t want to do this.

Or, I’m scared. I’m scared of messing up. I’m scared of doing a bad job. I’m worried that I won’t be liked. I’m worried that I might try and I won’t be good at it.

Letting the barrier down requires Guts. Honesty. Softness.

Looking at the impulse before we rush to snatch a cover, and breathing in recognition:

Your feelings are clues.

These feelings inside? They aren’t enemies. They are clues. Feelings are way points in an uncertain world, direction markers that guide us back into the brilliance of ourselves, if we’ll allow it. The trouble is it can be uncomfortable and downright painful. Feelings you haven’t had in years might surface to remind you of areas of internal work you still have to do.

And your masks were protection, once.

The masks aren’t all bad. Sometimes pulling down the mask and showing your face requires gentleness and slowness. Your mask might have served you at some point. A therapist in my yoga training reminded me that these coping mechanisms shouldn’t always be disarmed quickly. Children of abuse who learned how to harden and deaden their senses built masks in order to survive those times. These mechanisms and masks were useful–they helped you survive. They got you here. They protected. Unlocking them too quickly without new ways of being can also be damaging.

But at some point, perhaps you might notice you’re still wearing one.

What masks are you wearing?

What masks do you carry?

What do you hide?

Can you lower it for a bit?

With love,

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Looking for a place of love and kindness? Join our upcoming Grace & Gratitude micro-workshop, a two-week journey to cultivate grace and gratitude in your life. Two weeks of daily stories and exercises designed to bring light, love, and joy into your life–one photograph, project, and quote at a time. Sign up here (or give as a gift this holiday). We begin December 1.