“Mom, you’ve been using that word a lot lately,” Suzy told me. And she was right. Without even noticing how often I had been uttering that verb, I had decided to “recalibrate” holiday plans (due to extended fam illness) and “recalibrate” how and when we went about our Must Do traditions. I recalibrated how much food I really had to cook, and recalibrated how little I could get away doing before I descended into a pile of anxious lists and crafts and receipts.
And then I started thinking about it.
What if I learned how to recalibrate my life before events and stressors made me triage (another word I’ve been over-using and under-appreciating) in real time. Metaphorically speaking, I’ve been downing gallons of electrolytes after a weekend bender when I should have been mindfully hydrating throughout the day and tucked into bed with a paperback by 9pm. (Non-metaphorically speaking, I just typed a sentence that made me swoon with longing. That, my friends, is what we in the business call A TELL.)
I would love to recalibrate the stuff I love- so I can remember how to love them again. It’s been a real “feast or famine” sitch over here in terms of things that usually bring me joy. Reading books is my happy place. Mainlining books in a sweaty panic because I’d borrowed too many almost-due library books and reading is important for self-care, you love to read, Keely, READ YOUR BOOKS…is not my happy place. (And then apply that same scenario to workouts. And then apply that same scenario to…)
I’ve been saying yes to things that I want to want to do…and things that I think I should do…and things that I’d previously said yes to and felt immensely guilty about declining for no reason other than personal preference/exhaustion levels/imminent panic.
Even this blog isn’t exempt from the need to recalibrate (and, good heavens, reassess). I love this blog. Okay, maybe that’s not true- I love what this blog represents. I started blogging in 2004, and published my first post here in 2008. But things change. I mean, as someone who depended on paychecks writing short form essays for quickly folding online magazines in the early 2010s…no one knows this better than me. Mediums change. Essay lengths change. Attention spans change.
I don’t know what the future of this blog is. Earlier in the year I hit another “all or nothing” spree. I was only posting a few times a year, after all! I should just close the blog and lose the stress!
Except.
The idea of NOT having the blog to post on randomly made me sad and…stressed. So I hit an avoidance patch and made a list of other things I decided to hate as well. I will never embrace Instagram reels. I couldn’t care less about Tik Tok or Snapchat or “stories” in any form. I’m done with product placements or sponsored posts. If I never write another parenting post or roundup of tips again, it’ll be a gazillion years too soon. (This, my friends, is called Creative Burnout During A Global Pandemic, Post-Move, Shortly After Entering Her Forties. Welcome. The conversation is awkward, but the charcuterie boards are unmatched.)
As many of you know, I’ve been shoving bits of attention towards the endeavor of writing my increasingly murder-y mystery novel. It’s great, and it also sucks, but it’s mostly pretty wonderful. (There, publishers, I just wrote the blurb for you. Can I get paid now?) Professionally, I hit a rough spot a couple of weeks before Christmas which, if I’m fully honest, completely- yet briefly- decimated my self-esteem and will to write anything ever again. I had been up for a residency that I had built up in my mind as THE thing that would catapult my career and self-worth and skincare routine.
So when I didn’t get it, I was devastated in a way that probably didn’t make a whole lot of external sense.
It did, however, help me lose the stress of figuring out the longterm plan for the blog. I went to the super healthy place of “nothing matters right now” which, while maudlin, recalibrated itself to gently remind me that I could write or not write or post weekly or post yearly and nothing would be hugely affected. Humbling? Yes. Helpful? Also yes.
Maybe I’ll eventually go the newsletter route. Maybe I’ll obsess over my particular level of welcome in already over-taxed, over-filled inboxes.
But not yet.
Related: There are author newsletters and round-up guides that I super duper enjoy seeing in my inbox- and actually read, usually almost immediately! (A way I’ve already begun recalibrating? Unsubscribing and batch-deleting willy nilly. Because, otherwise, what the hell is the point. There are very few occasions where a languishing email in my inbox comes in handy. Friends know how to reach me. I know that things will always be on sale. And if I forget to click on that one link forwarded by a friend of a friend from college? Oh-to-the-effing-WELL.)
Thank you for coming to my TED Talk entitled Keely Is Super Gentle and Demure Until She Is No Longer.
But back to recalibrating: Even though it may surprise many, we are still in the midst of a global pandemic! I fully acknowledge that my personal stressors are on the waaaaay more privileged scale of things and, as such, any advice I could give might be akin to nails on a chalkboard to those who are experiencing loss, and more loss, and all the loss at levels my brain does not currently have to.
That said.
Here’s what I’m attempting for the new year:
Forbidding devices in the bathroom and at the table. I cannot believe I’m saying this, but here we are. There is no part of anyone’s life that is made better by bringing a cell phone with you to the toilet. Not only is it foully gross, but it cements this idea (for you, but also others!) that you can be reached literally at all times. If you can’t take a communication/scroll break for that short amount of time, how the heck can you expect to limit your screen time in other situations? And miss me with the excuse of “but that’s where my word games are/that’s my only time to myself to really catch up on text chains” because 1) again, gross, 2) find your Me Time some other way, you martyr, and 3) be bored for a sec. It’s super good for you. (And 4) again, holy God, so fricking gross.)
And for the latter location of the table? If I can’t keep what few and far between meal times with the fam device-free for myself, what the heck am I teaching my kids? That the imminent ding of literally anyone else’s communication is already more important and exciting than the literal face time with the people I claim are the most important ones in my life? Or that it’s not rude as hell? Hard nope, nope, jackanope.
In terms of a recalibration, it’ll be a relatively easy one. Just…don’t bring the devices. It’s a modification of saying no and doing less. And if you’ve/I’ve somehow managed to convince yourself/myself that sitting with a loved one or taking time to pee without a phone handy is a matter of national security, rest assured that there’s an easy fix for that, too.
A) It’s not.
B) Turn my ringer on and leave it in a nearby room. If there’s a phone emergency, someone will reach out and I will hear it. LIKE A PHONE!
So, to recap and recalibrate: Fewer phones on person (which will allow more spaces in brain), saying yes to things you want to and no to things that you cannot (even if you’d previously said yes, and even if you have no “real” reason that you cannot), and being kinder to oneself and not trying to solve temporarily unsolvable things with sledgehammers.
We have a saying in this home that has evolved from the occasionally overwhelming desire to volunteer and donate and help in an increasingly overwhelming world: Do what you can, when you can, as often as you can. I’d like to try to apply that to self-care and family care for the new year. Maybe, even, I don’t know- blogs? Writing schedules? Sky’s the limit.
Especially once I leave the devices far, far away from the scenarios and situations that I’ve deemed the most crucial for my life and well-being.
And for God’s sake, if we can also recalibrate to drink more water and put the concept of hydration on at least the same level of importance as Facebook connections? We’ll all be feeling better.
Peeing a ton more, sure. Like a weird amount more.
Without phones.
Happy 2022!
Speak Your Mind