Losing Our High-Capacity Selves
I don’t know about you, but I can’t do as much as I used to.
I’ve always seen myself as a high-capacity person. A person who can do a lot and do it well. High-capacity, high-achieving……… and let’s be honest, struggles with high-stress and perfectionism.
After leaving undergrad, I started working in higher education as I pursued my Masters degree; I worked in Residence Life and lived on campus where I worked. I was in the thick of it all the time; there were always people to hang out with and relationships to invest in. I feel like I had plans most nights of the week and at least a few things to do every weekend. The calendar was almost always full, even overflowing.
Meanwhile, a chronic illness had lived in my body since I was 16, and I did my best to ignore it. I wanted to be “normal,” so I often pretended my physical limitations weren’t there. I pushed myself to not just keep up, but to surpass and exceed expectations. If my body tried to get my attention, I refused to slow down unless it made me. Then I’d beat myself up internally for having limits and feeling weak, angry that I had to rest and recuperate.
Eventually I would recuperate…. and I’d just go back to doing life exactly like I had been.
Fast-forward to the year 2020…. So much trauma, grief, and loss surrounded us each and every day, collectively and individually. It lingered so much longer than we could have anticipated…… weeks turning into months turning into years. And while some things have returned to our lives after 2 ½ years in the ways that they used to be, some things have not returned.
One of those is my former high-capacity self.
Even after all this time, I can’t kick it back into high gear. I can’t seem to reach that “full throttle” space and stay in it anymore.
Perhaps you also know the reality of a brain that feels foggier with decision fatigue. You tire more quickly or feel the aches and pains of your body more acutely. Social interactions feel more draining and you can’t say “yes” to as many things on your calendar.
I know I can’t do as much as I used to……
And maybe that’s not a bad thing.
What I started to realize is that I’m not alone in this reality. I have had many conversations with many clients over the last few years who are experiencing the same thing. We think we should be “over it” by now and need to “get back to how it used to be.”
Except maybe how I and the collective “we” were functioning before wasn’t helpful, healthy, or sustainable. This collective and individual trauma that many of us have experienced the last few years has left its mark. In the midst of that, what I am learning to do more and more is accept the wisdom of the limits my body is communicating to me instead of criticizing myself for not being able to do what I used to do.
Self-compassion is a skill I must choose to practice again and again; it doesn’t come naturally to me (whereas I had become very skilled at self-judgment over the years). I am undoing and unlearning, so I can redo and relearn what it means to accept the limits of my body and my mind. To accept that more is not always better. That I can honor and bless that younger version of myself in all her busyness and what she was trying to accomplish…… and I can make room for and bless this older, slower version of myself who cannot make plans every night of the week anymore. I can honor the wisdom of limits and be more selective about my “yes” and my “no.” I can live with healthier boundaries and make it safer for others around me to name theirs as well. I can reframe my limits and see them as protection rather than weakness. I can choose proactive self-care more often instead of reactive coping skills when I’ve overdone it.
And as I walk this journey for myself, I continue to be thankful that I get to also walk with others who are unlearning and relearning the same things. We get to create space for one another to breathe more deeply, to slow down, and to pursue the things that bring us joy, comfort, and rest.