by Emily Ley
Social media isn’t our
PROBLEM.
It’s not causing us to
BURN OUT. Constantly
seeking out new after
new is the problem.
No two days look the same. Situations arise that need more attention, and my inbox may sit neglected for a day. At other times, duty may demand that I’m engaged with incoming emails more frequently. Regardless, this type of focused, proactive working has absolutely allowed my creativity to blossom. In fact, as I’m writing this book, my inbox is closed and my notifications are turned off. People have quickly learned that I’m not the girl who responds immediately to an email or text the minute it’s received . . . and that’s okay. I’m not the easiest person to get ahold of at a moment’s notice. And that’s okay. Because not everything is an emergency.
I realize this isn’t workable for every situation and every job. But the concept can be implemented in small ways and still yield big results—and it can apply to more than just your inbox. Even if you can shut down your email for only an hour at a time (or put your phone on the coffee table and walk away), I guarantee you’ll discover that the world will keep turning, that tasks will still be accomplished, and that you may just spark some creativity that had gone by the wayside.
NO MORE FOMO
In early February, when I returned to social media, I had a fresh perspective. But more than anything, my depth of focus had changed dramatically. As jarring as it was to leave, it was almost just as jarring to return. For years, my “focus” had been on hundreds of thousands of followers, thousands of friends, my local friends, and my family. That’s a lot to focus on. I’d set my sights on so much that I found myself looking out long past what was right in front of my face.
Removing the masses, even if just for a few weeks, allowed me to regain focus on my immediate friends and family. I could see and hear them more clearly. I had fewer distractions and divergent focuses and was able to concentrate my love and attention on the people who truly matter most. It was a beautiful sabbatical that reset my heart in so many good ways. Coming back, I knew it would be important to create new boundaries within my digital life to proactively manage my connections in healthy ways.
My depth of focus had changed dramatically.
Anyone I didn’t truly miss while away from social media, I unfollowed (even more than I had already unfollowed in the previous chapter!). This left me with a small circle of people I considered actual friends to connect with—whether via the internet or in person. Unapologetically culling my feed and following only people whose words or images brought some sort of positive energy into my life made social media a pleasure for me again. And having fewer friends to follow meant my feed updated less regularly and I was less tempted by the “fear of missing out.” It also meant what I was consuming online was by choice and good for my heart. Less digital junk food. More inspiration.
Above all else
guard your heart
for everything you
do flows
from it.
PROVERBS 4:23
I removed apps I was distracted by, and some that I had deleted during my fast never found their way back into my life. And I continued with some of the more tactical steps to simplifying one’s online atmosphere: I unsubscribed from advertisement emails that called my attention away from the truly important emails in my inbox.
I was often reminded throughout this process of the verse from Proverbs: “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it” (4:23). How could I be the woman I wanted to be—the wife, the designer, the boss, the friend, the mother, the writer—if I wasn’t proactively protecting the wellspring of my life, carefully considering what I allowed into my mind and heart, and choosing what got to stay and what had to go.
If our hearts are wells that can be either empty or full, then as much as I could, I wanted to steer toward those choices that provided truth, nourishment, friendship, and rest.
With these simple changes (and a healthy dose of perspective having lived without for thirty-one days), I vowed to mindfully manage my connectedness, allowing my brain to find a new pace—a slower, steadier pace. Less screen time and more of time engaged with the world around me. Less typing and more talking. Less clicking and more connecting—really connecting. This allowed my heart and my body to begin to find true rest—real, rich, refreshing (and sometimes analog) soul rest.
And isn’t soul rest what we’re all looking for?
5
REST
Less Frenzy, More Soul Rest
What is soul rest? We know our bodies need rest. That’s why we attempt to get a good night’s sleep every night. We know that when our rest is inhibited by a child or a storm or plain old insomnia, we perform at less than our A game the next day. Science backs this up. The deficiencies that accompany lack of sleep have been compared to being impaired by alcohol or some other substance. Bottom line: Our bodies and minds need sleep!
Now that my children are a little older, I get about seven to eight hours of sleep every night. After going through the experience of newborn twins, I can say that this is a luxury—and I don’t take a good night’s sleep for granted. But I wondered, as I continued to investigate remedies for my personal burnout, if sleep and rest are the same thing. We know that not all periods of sleep are equally beneficial to our bodies. In some stages of sleep, we are sleeping deeper or lighter, and our bodies therefore reap different benefits during different times.
SOOTHING THE SOUL FIRE
But what about rest? During most every stage of my adult life, the concept of taking a nap has felt absolutely frivolous and, to be honest, laughable. Most days I don’t even have time to make my bed. Take a nap? Yeah, right. But with the discovery of lost hours during my day (hours given to mindless scrolling and searching on the internet), I wondered, Would a fifteen-minute rest in the middle of the day do me some good? Are there other ways of giving my body and mind rest that don’t equate to sleep?
Are sleep and rest the same thing?
When one of my children is abnormally fussy for a prolonged period of time, I instinctively know that he or she is overtired. Continually angry or ornery children almost always means, in the Ley home, that someone didn’t get enough sleep. With tactics learned from my mom, I often soothe the soul fire (an unsettled or anxious spirit) of a cranky child by giving the others something to do, drawing a warm bath, slipping them into soft pajamas, and tucking them into a comfy bed in a dimly lit room. The gift of a nap (even if they go kicking and screaming) and some special one-on-one care can go a long way.
Why then, don’t we extend this same kind of care to ourselves? Why don’t we treat our own soul fires the same way? Why aren’t we confronting our own cases of stress, overwhelm, and, for lack of a better term, fussy attitudes with kindness, self-love, and rest? Are we not also deserving of the same care we extend to those we love?
We’re grown-ups. And many of us are mamas. We likely don’t have a caregiver directing us to implement these remedies. But we for sure can choose to pour some water onto our raging soul fires ourselves.
And I’m not talking the kind of self-care that is going to get a pedicure or a massage. Sure, those things feel great and can be very relaxing and beneficial. The real, true self-care I’m talking about actually looks a lot like rest. Or better yet, soul rest. It’s the kind of rest that soothes and quenches a hot, dry, thirsty soul—the kind of rest that replenishes our best attributes and draws us back toward our best selves.
This kind of soul rest is extra special. It may not always be found in lying down for a nap or hitting the hay early. I’d argue that this kind of rest is more unshakable, less likely to deplete or diminish quickly.
Soul rest may be found in the pages of a novel, drawing our minds into magical worlds, giving our imaginations a little room to run free. It may be found deep in the middle of authentic, raw conversation with a trusted friend, one who truly sees and knows our hear
t and can speak life into our circumstances. It may be found, as my dear friend and coworker Whitney found it, in a garden—hands speckled with dirt, digging deep into the earth to coerce something beautiful from the ground.
Real, true
SELF-CARE
actually looks a lot
like REST. Or better
yet, soul rest.
Whitney (or Whit, as we call her) is a new mom. She has the tiniest, most precious little bundle of joy and works from home as creative director for Simplified. Whit has given me the honor of sharing her story, in her words, here.
A few weeks after finding out I was pregnant with our first child, my husband and I decided to plant a garden. I’d always dreamed of having a little garden to tend and care for—one that would provide veggies for our dinner table and flowers for the vase in our kitchen. I imagined myself walking out to snip blush-pink peonies every week to brighten our kitchen a little. Because I was a beginner, I spent weeks researching seeds and soil types, and eventually decided to build raised beds so I could tend the garden while pregnant and, eventually, with a little boy by my side. Together, my husband and I selected the soil, planted our seeds, and waited.
The morning of my induction, I woke with so much fear in my heart. David and I prayed that God would be with us through what was to come, giving us strength through all the unknowns. As I waddled from our home to the car to head to the hospital, I stopped in my tracks. There, along the driveway, in the beds we’d carefully planted, was our very first bloom: a pure white cosmos, dappled with tiny, sparkling drops of dew, standing tall and strong in the center of the garden. I’ll never forget how proud I felt to have helped bring this flower to life. And surprisingly, it was pretty simple. All it needed was good soil, water, sun, and love.
A few hours later, all my hopes and plans for a smooth labor and delivery had been tossed aside. God and baby had their own plans for how this birth would go. It was unnerving and scary for this inherent planner.
After twenty-eight hours of labor, I held my precious boy for the first time. I never knew I could love something this much, I thought.
As we adjusted to our new normal as a family of three, my feelings were big and bold—and so was my exhaustion. It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. I felt so different from the girl I used to be. The days were long and motherhood was hard. I longed for the strength and energy and vivaciousness I used to have. Thirsty for strength and renewal every afternoon, after long days home with our baby, I’d wrap my little boy in a baby wrap, tying him snugly against my chest, and head out to the garden. Sometimes I’d prune the flowers or tend the vegetables, but many times we’d just walk, listening to the birds and lawn mowers and frogs . . . sometimes just savoring the sweet silence.
Rob was soothed out there and so was I. The garden became our private place of soul rest.
As I looked out at my lush, growing garden and saw the bright blooms and strong stems, I was reminded that we as women need tending and care as well. Like my flowers, I need good soil (a firm foundation of rhythm for my life), water (nourishment from healthy foods), and light (from the sun, from truth filling my soul—the place from which I do my most important job—caring for the son God gave me).
I realized that, if cared for in the right ways, I too would bloom from the darkness I’d been feeling. So here I am, continuing on my quest to bring back the girl I used to be—both for my family and for myself. I’m remembering now just how strong I am and how worthy I am of a life well lived. It’s as if the winter is fading, the North Carolina snow melting around me. I’m a little excited, reenergized, and ready to step into the warmth and sunshine after a long, cold season.
I found a lot more than peonies while digging and planting and tending the dirt and seeds just outside my door. I found hope.
What I love most about Whit’s story is that it so beautifully illustrates the dichotomy of feeling two big emotions at once—overwhelming joy and paralyzing emptiness.
And I’ve talked with so many women from so many different seasons and situations in life who have felt this exact same way. We’re not alone! Some have one child; some have none; and some have ten. Some work out of the home; some work in the home; some do double duty. Burnout isn’t selective! We often feel as if we need more tools, more organization, or more time. But really what we often need is less: less noise, fewer distractions, and less comparison. So often we glance over at another woman who appears to have more on her plate and believe the lies that our feelings and experiences suddenly don’t count. Emptiness can lurk in the shadows of your life no matter how seemingly complex or simple it is. Guilt and comparison love to keep us isolated.
Whit’s feelings of burnout and overwhelm appeared amid a long-awaited season when her heart was brimming with gratitude for her little boy. She felt isolated and shameful for feeling anything other than pure elation—confused at feeling both empty and full at once. By slowing her pace and digging in to something life-giving, something that provided true soul rest, Whit experienced renewed energy, peace, and refreshment in her soul and in her home. By slowing down to connect with something that might seem unproductive to the world, she opened herself up to the richness and peace she needed during this time of joyful and challenging transition.
Soul rest looks different for everyone—cooking, cleaning, reading, writing, running, hiking, painting, gardening, you name it. What might seem tedious to you is another woman’s deepest joy—and vice versa. Soul rest activities are the things you can lose track of time while doing. Quite often, it’s that activity that makes you begin to breathe a little deeper, pulling your attention and thoughts from the worries and monotony and stresses of the day, and relinquishing control to an experience bigger than yourself.
It’s not always easy to discover what it is that brings us our deepest soul rest. But based on my experience, it’s often right under our noses, something we don’t even need to think hard about to find. Maybe it’s kind of silly and we’re afraid to admit it (drawing or coloring with our kids? taking a hip-hop dance class? writing poetry that no one will ever read?). Leaning in to these things that we often call “silly” or “extra” in our too-serious, overfull, don’t-have-time-to-play world can provide us all kinds of true rest.
When was the last time you just played? Like literally played a game? A board game? Or even engaged in some kind of sports outside? Knees dirty and sweat dripping down your face . . . Laundry buzzer going off, but you don’t care because kickball is way too important right now. Science reveals that breaking away from the monotony of day-to-day life to do something that inspires creative thinking, ignites a bit of a passion, and encourages laughter is actually really good for you.
FEEDING THE BIRDS
My kids and I feed the birds a lot. Maybe it’s a maternal thing. I get a lot of satisfaction from feeding those little pigeons at the park. Sometimes I’ll pack a few baggies of fruit and cheese, grab the kids’ water bottles, pick them up from school, and take my little ones downtown. We’ll park the car and walk about a mile to the end of the pier in town. It’s a safe street since the road is mostly used for boat docks, not a lot of cars going up and down it. My kids don’t have to stay tethered to my hand. They skip and run, and we make our way down to the end of the street where hundreds of pigeons perch in large, unexplainable groups, just waiting for someone to come by with a stale piece of bread. Here we sit and snack while we toss pieces of crust high into the air in the hopes that some swooping pigeon will snatch it up.
It’s such a simple thing, feeding the birds.
But my grandma did it with me.
And now I’m doing it with my children.
We get some exercise. We’re together. We’re present in those moments. Plus the vitamin D and extra steps don’t hurt a bit either. Sometimes soul rest doesn’t happen with our heads on a pillow. Sometimes we’re filled up just by creating a new tradition or tapping in to what our bodies and hearts actually need. Doing so unravels anxi
ety and brings new life to the driest of seasons.
6
WELLNESS
Less Fake, More Real
The many steps that followed the evening I melted down in 2016 were just the beginning of my journey toward true health and wellness, the kind of whole wellness that would allow me to be the woman I desperately wanted to be—physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.
First, I took myself to the doctor to determine if a long period of postpartum depression, undiagnosed anxiety, or any other medical issue might be playing a role in the way I was feeling. I wanted to get a baseline—to understand exactly where my body stood in terms of overall health. (I highly recommend taking this important step to invest in your self-care. I know it’s easy to prioritize work and kids and many other things before yourself. Plus, no one wants to go to the doctor. But it’s important.)
My doctor ran routine blood work, which revealed that I was prediabetic. This was incredibly alarming, as I was at a healthy weight and eating a healthy diet most of the time. Blood work also revealed that I was suffering from more than one autoimmune thyroid disease. The prediabetes was apparently caused by my constantly skipping meals, which caused my blood sugar to spike and crash consistently. And my autoimmune health had likely been triggered, at least in part, by difficult pregnancies and chronic stress. These revelations, especially the “chronic stress” part, pushed my desire to be truly well from something that felt good and superficial to emergent and necessary.
