When I hear of cancelled plans these days I secretly like it. I’ve learned that time is my greatest currency and time given back to me with a cancelled plan is a gift. That ‘plan-no-more’ usually means an open invitation to recharge. Most of us think of “recharging” as doing nothing. Doing nothing is doing something though. It’s reenergizing our minds and bodies. Exercising is a recharge that takes effort. Completing a goal with a hobby is a recharge that takes effort. Making memories at the zoo with my family is a recharge that uses tons of energy. Recharging, for me, means anything that fills my heart-o-meter with happiness and glee.
I cannot help but think of how recharging myself by visiting family and friends is ironically and simultaneously draining the battery to our electric car. One goes down as the other goes up. Energy exchange initiated. And, and, and, sometimes a recharge takes effort. But, but, but, it’s almost always worth it.
I used to think recharging meant stopping, and that’s true sometimes. There have been times when I needed approval and encouragement to actually stop and rest and recharge. I realize now that recharging actually means moving toward the people and places that fill you back up. Maybe it’s sharing a laugh with a good friend, and maybe it’s a nap on a cozy couch with a soft pillow and warm blanket. Either way though, sometimes it’s hard to tell when you need to recharge.
Currently, I can pre-program the battery arrival percentage in my electric car. Wouldn’t that be nice if we could do that for our minds and bodies… I’d like to arrive at work today at 94% energy, and arrive home after work at 60% energy so that I have enough love in me to finish that day with my family? Is that possible? I wish.
After my coma, I benefited from physical therapy and they gave me a strong lesson on physical energy conservation. After horrendous muscle atrophy from my intubation, my physical therapists would give me exercises everyday. In the beginning, I would go fierce for 20 minutes in the morning and crash for the entire rest of the day. Zonked. Spent. The therapists noticed. They called me out. Half of what I practiced in therapy was physical, sure, obviously; but the other half was being mindful and considerate of myself. Sometimes that meant doing less in one sitting so I’d have enough strength to keep living the rest of the day. Looking back, I see they weren’t just teaching me how to conserve physical energy. They were teaching me something I’d spend the next ten years trying to fully understand. I learned, I need to spread this energy out so I have a little left for the second half of the day. I had to practice stretching my energy through instead of pushing on empty. They weren’t teaching me to do less, they were teaching me to sustain myself, and eventually thrive.
My car has a battery percentage on the screen, and humans don’t, and maybe that is why we’re so bad at recognizing when we’re running on 5%. I know for most of my life, I’ve been terrible at recognizing what my battery is at, and especially when it’s low. I’m accustomed to running on empty. Empty sleep. Empty stomach. Empty tank of energy. But honestly, is that me, or all of us? Are we a product of running on empty because that’s how things are? I think so. But, ugh, I can’t keep going like that. So, I won’t. I will not run on empty anymore. It’s too hazardous. I’m going to recognize my energy levels enough to know when it’s time to recharge. And give others grace when they also need to recharge.
My Tesla charges with electrons, my phone charges with a USB cable, and I charge by making my son laugh. I charge by eating brunch with a good friend who has known every version of me over the past twenty-five years and loves me just the same. Sometimes a recharge is as simple as a slice of zucchini bread and a cup of coffee. Sometimes it’s stepping outside because, as someone once told me, fresh air will do you good.
And sometimes, I recharge by driving through Ohio with nowhere to be except where I’m already headed.
I’ve figured out a secret to it all.
Maybe the trick is not waiting until we’re empty … but learning where our chargers are before we’re too low.
As always, thanks for reading.
Love,
Amanda