Trust the Process

“Trust the process” is what they teach you in therapy school. At least mine did. While I was in school I was all about this “trust the process” stuff. I understood it, I felt it. I accepted myself as an eternal process. Since graduation I’ve had a lot of unexpected losses, including feeling like somewhere in the process of it all, I lost myself. Oh the irony. I was constantly wondering when I would come around again. I was a boomerang, knowing I would eventually come back. But damn - whoever threw that thing threw it really far.

Quite some time has passed, and I felt like I caught the boomerang juuuuust before anybody caught word of COVID-19. Of course. As I start to feel like my whole self again, the world places a big stop sign in my path. But maybe that’s the point. Trusting the process, is also knowing when to change the process. It is knowing when a process no longer serves you, or one that is more of an old habit, than an actually useful “process.” As a generally fast paced person, I’ve told myself to listen to the stop sign for once. And a stop in the road doesn’t mean a stop for me entirely. It means look around you, bird’s eye the map for once, and sit with discomfort. Oooooh discomfort. Thats’ fun.

It really isn’t at all. But think of the frustration tolerance, the patience, the creativity we will all have gained after this. I’m by no means neglecting to recognize the fear, the anxiety, the deep sadness that is also present. However, I don’t think I have the words yet to reflect that side of the coin.

As I’ve been figuring out how to decompress every day at home - especially given the difficulty of compartmentalizing work versus home in a global pandemic, I’ve settled into my body more and more each day, learning to trust the process. This trust only comes from many (many) trials and errors. I’m not going into specifics because well - they don’t really matter. They matter on a personal level - of course. I’m a human being. But so are you, and your experiences, and your losses and stories of resilience are as legitimate as mine, no matter what they are about. That is why the details don’t matter, yet the feelings around the details do. And what I’ve noticed in feeling all the feels, and unsuccessfully resisting them, is that feelings change, grow, and evaporate. And that is the process. This global pandemic - is one hell of a process.

If I were to sum up the one big way I know how to cope with pain, it is - and I sound redundant here, but it really is to trust the process. What does that mean for me? It means going with my gut instinct. What am I being pulled to do at a time like this? I’m going to be myself. My whole self. Which means lots of random singing around the house, trying new recipes, dance breaks, and swirly movements on my floor to compete with Garbanzo (he’s cuter - every time). And painting. I love painting and remembered how much it mindfully syncs my breath to movement without having to engage all of my limbs or over-think. Yes! More of that please. Sometimes bigger movements are too much because I don’t want to feel the losses come up through a whole somatic level. Therefore visual art becomes my decompression work.

My initial thoughts are usually to paint on canvas, but restless Priscilla did not want to wait 2-3 weeks for an Amazon shipment. So I let go of that, and realized it’s almost Easter. Whoa. Where did the quarantime go? This led of course, to painting eggs. We have had the random fortune of having chickens in our backyard over the last 2 years. To be clear, they have been intentionally placed in our backyard and have a chicken coop that gives them one of the best quarantine hideaways I’ve ever seen. They live a luxurious life. I thanked the chickens and took 3 eggs. I painted the first 3 grounding things I could think of. My 3 homes. Having various senses of home used to be very dysregulating to me. Now I see the beauty, and privilege of it. Can you guess my 3 places? Can you allow you to ground yourself in your sense of home, and invite art into your life again?

Trusting the process is a middle ground place to be. It is neither the beginning, nor the end product. So where do you begin? When in doubt, start with art. Whatever art means to you. It is by no means childish, instead it is childlike. In this era, (and moving forward), I hope we are all holding each other and ourselves like a child. Because like a child, we are in a completely new, unknown experience. We are vulnerable, restless, resilient, confused, SO TIRED, probably hungry, and yet filled with random bursts of energy. We may be confused if this energy is yours, mine or the environment’s. Be like a child, let art guide you. Time will sort all of this out. It may not come from painting 3 eggs. Or even a dozen. It may take getting to know new parts of you to become whole again. And it’s so worth it. You’re so worth it. The process - is worth it.