ISO: Reset

“Mommy, what are we having for dinner?” Anessa shouted from the couch.

“Chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans.” I answered from the kitchen.

“And what else?”

“Nothing else, that’s it.”

“But, what else?”

This is a game Anessa has recently started playing, where she continues to ask the same question over and over and over again until I engage her in some other activity or redirect her attention. I know that she is attention-seeking, that all she wants is for me to play with her, to be with her. But at that moment, I was cooking dinner, and before that, I had been responding to the 50 emails that had piled up over the last few days, and before that, I was online Christmas shopping, and before that, I was trying to tidy up our disaster of a house after putting up all the decorations.

“Anessa, you’re driving me bonkers!”

“What is bonkers?”

“ENOUGH!”

I was met with silence from the other room and immediately regretted raising my voice with her. Yes, she was being extra needy this evening, but it was largely in part because I have been away so much this past month. And now that I’m back, between book promotion and the holidays, my time is more limited than she has ever experienced.

Admittedly, I have a short fuse and a temper that I have worked very hard to manage. I’ve learned various techniques from breath control, to screaming into a pillow, to taking a nap. Which sounds a lot like what I do when I’m feeling anxious. Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure anger is just another form my anxiety takes when I’m too busy or stressed to acknowledge my typical anxious feelings.

I really hate anxiety.

This week though, my usual tricks weren’t working. If I was living at a nine in terms of general irritability and my usual techniques could bring it down to a six or seven, it didn’t take much to spike back up again. As I looked around my house at the piles of laundry, the dirty dishes, and cardboard boxes from all the online orders I wished that a magical fairy could sweep into my house and at least get our physical home back to baseline so that I could handle the work emails, holiday cards, and school events.

I was explaining this to my incredible acupuncturist when I saw her this week. To be clear, I don’t understand how acupuncture works and I don’t really care. All I know is that I get to talk to a kind, empathetic woman, who then sticks some needles in my body and leaves me alone in a dark, warm room for thirty minutes or so. Then, afterward, I feel SO MUCH BETTER. I don’t ask questions. As far as I’m concerned, it’s magic.

“How are you? How has everything been going?” My acupuncturist asked me.

We chatted about the book tour, Miguel’s run in Hamilton ending, and the upcoming holidays. Then I told her about my house and how I wanted someone to sweep in and set everything right again and how I was hoping she could do something like that to my body because I felt like I was losing control of my emotions and it wasn’t good for anyone near me, least of all my family.

“Oh, you want a reset.” She replied.

“YES! That’s it! That’s what I want exactly. Please reset me!”

“Ok, we’ll do that, but you know you can also just choose to reset yourself whenever you want to.”

I stared back at her blankly. In theory, I understood what she was saying, but in practice, I was too far gone. Right?

“We all say things to our kids or loved ones that we wish we didn’t. You’re noting that the behavior isn’t great – that’s the hard part. Now just choose to reset in the moment.”

“You know I’m probably going to turn this conversation into the blog this week.” I said half telling, half asking permission.

“I’d be honored.”

Ten minutes later, as I lay on the table like a human pin cushion, I thought about choosing my own reset. When all those negative feelings bubble up inside me, the thought of pushing them down goes against everything I know about emotions: repressing is bad, expressing is good. But what if, I’m a visual person so hear me out, instead of pushing the aggravation and stress down I found a way to allow it to dissipate. I mean, those feelings, in everyday life situations, serve no major purpose other than to drive me to be short with the people around me. I alone control my responses and actions. They are not driven by a preschooler's annoying questions or a to-do list the length of a grocery store receipt. They are certainly affected, but not controlled. The realization that a reset was a choice I could make was embarrassingly revelatory.

I’ll still use all my usual tricks, and will look forward to my full monthly reset courtesy of ancient Chinese medicine – but the reality that a reset is something I am in control of, a choice I can make is wildly empowering. Now, if only I could empower my children to help with that home reset I dreamed of earlier…

ID: Kelly is sitting on the couch with stairs decked in holiday garland behind her. She is wearing a light grey sweatshirt and black camo sweatpants, a red fire fighter helmet, a purple superhero mask, a gren and red purse that is hanging from a white strap around her neck, and in her nap is a small, stuffed, brown bear, on a white and purple floral blanket. Kelly is smiling and holding up the “I love you” ASL sign with both hands.