Hold it Lightly

My friend Blair, all the way over in New Zealand, was talking to her husband the other day. He is also all the way over in New Zealand, conveniently enough. She was complaining about work - the pressure, the stress, the hours, the never endingness of it - the general bullshit of it all. 

“You know what you need to do,” he said after she finished her latest rant.

“What, dear?” she replied ready for Val’s latest piece of unsolicited advice. “What do I need to do?

“You need to care less,” he replied, opening a bag of chips with his teeth. “You know, like figure out a way to have your job, but hold it lightly,” he said, throwing a chip in his mouth.

Blair looked up, ready with her army of defenses and excuses to sling back at him - all the reasons that that was the dumbest idea and how it would never work and what did he even know about how stressful her job was anyhow? 

And right before she opened her mouth, it clicked.

I need to hold it lightly, she thought, peering into the middle distance, past the long dark tendrils that had fallen in her face. “I need to hold it lightly,” she said, a glimmer in her widening blue eyes. “I just need to release some of the control I have - or rather, I think I have, on my job,” she stated, adjusting her dark rimmed glasses on her nose.

“That’s what I said,” Val responded, popping another chip in his mouth. “Just hold it lightly.”

So she did. Blair wrote an email to her boss the next day and said that she needed to start thinking about moving into a consulting role - something with not as many hours and less responsibility and way fewer people reporting to her. 

That night we got on our weekly video call together - me and Blair - and she told me about holding it lightly. 

As I watched her pin-up model beautiful face on my computer screen tell me these words of wisdom that poured forth from her husband’s mouth, I got my army of defenses and excuses ready. As she told me about holding her job lightly, I lined up the troops. Oh, Blair dear, this is so very cute - if only my life would allow such a sweet little phrase to fix it. I love that your life can accommodate this, but let me tell you all the reasons this WILL NOT WORK for me. 

And right before I opened my mouth, it clicked.

I need to hold it lightly, I thought, peering into the middle distance, past my thick black rimmed glasses. “I need to hold it lightly,” I said a glimmer in my widening mud brown eyes. “I need to hold my job, my marriage, parenting, Arabic, writing, life-ing…all of it, lightly. Why the hell am I gripping onto it so tightly?”

“Because we always do that,” she chimed in. “Because we think we have to. Because we have told ourselves this story that if we don’t, everything is going to come crumbling down around us.”

“If I hold my job lightly, I will probably not be as annoyed at the inefficiencies all the time,” I began. “If I hold my marriage lightly, I will probably be able to see all the incredible things about Ezra and stop concentrating so hard on the few things that are missing. If I hold parenting lightly, I might be able to actually enjoy it. If I hold Arabic lightly, maybe I’ll stop feeling shame that I’m terrible at language, and just have fun with it.”

I looked at Blair - an identical glow in our eyes. “Right? It feels so easy and so obvious.”

“This is genius.”

That afternoon I went to my Arabic lesson and although it felt hard to put into practice, I tried to hold it lightly - or at least lighter than I had to that point. I let the passive-aggressive things my teacher says about how much more I should know having been in the country for over 2 years, slip off my back - or at least not weigh on me as heavily. That weekend I worked on holding my life lightly. I held thoughts of my boss and my job lightly. I held interactions with my husband and my daughter and my friends and strangers on the street lightly. I held the expectations I have of myself lightly. I held my ideas of how I’m supposed to spend my time lightly. I held myself lightly. 

On Sunday morning I went to work and I held my day lightly. I held meetings lightly. I held stupid meetings about other meetings that I think are a complete waste of everyone’s time, lightly. I held my boss lightly and saw her for the gloriously flawed human she is carrying her own struggles and living life in her own context. 

On Monday, I shared this idea about holding things lightly during my weekly check-in with the leadership team at work. I told them of Blair and Val and how right now I’m fending off the overwhelm by holding things lightly.

“So, some things might drop because I’m not holding onto them so tightly anymore, but that’s ok. And some things won’t get done in the timeframe I - or you - want, but that’s ok. And some things I might just decide not to do, but I’m going to trust myself on that and say that’s ok,” I looked around the room at the equally overwhelmed faces looking back at me. “We all owe it to ourselves, and each other, to hold things lightly.”

I looked around the room at the five humans looking back at me. I could see their armies of defenses and excuses readying themselves for battle. As I looked into their faces, I could see all the reasons that this quant idea was never going to work for them. 

Next came Omar’s check in and right as he started to talk, I saw it click. “I’m also trying to fend off overwhelm,” he began in his thick Arabic accented English. “So, I’m going to hold things light too.”

Ahmed’s check in came next and he, unsurprisingly, agreed. 

“It’s starting to feel like an AA meeting. Have you all been to an AA meeting? Do you know what I’m talking about?” I asked looking around at my mostly Jordanian colleagues to see them nodding and laughing. 

Finally Abdul checked-in. “There’s too much to do and I’m not getting everything I want to do, done so, I’m going to take Darla’s advice and hold it lightly.”

Reem and Adriane, who had both already done their check-in before mine, jumped on the moving hold it lightly train. As we filed out of the meeting that day, I could see a sea of defenses and excuses sulking away into the corners - defeated, at least for now.

The next day I shared it with my weekly writing group. “I’m holding life lightly,” I said explaining what that meant and exactly how I was applying it to my life - my latest struggles they knew so well. Lindsey, Jess, and Anna - all spread out across the U.K. agreed. That sounded like a grand concept and a lovely application to life. 

“I’m going to figure out what I can hold lightly,” Lindsey pondered looking out the glass door just past her screen. 

That Thursday, I had my weekly check-in (I’m a big fan of regular connection with people if you can’t tell) with my ancestral healing, woo coach and mentor, psychic friend in Portland, Oregon. (I think it’s mandatory that at least 50% of the world’s population of woo people live in Portland.) I told her about my new best friend, holding it lightly as I looked into the phone screen at her new mom, business owner, debt-ridden, interviewing for jobs, freshly moved (as in that week) face and I saw her army of defenses and excuses getting themselves ready for the fight. What does she know about our life, they thought, throwing on their armor and shields, brandishing their weapons.

And then, right before she opened her mouth, it clicked. “Mmmmm, I love this,” she said with her signature thoughtfulness. “I could definitely hold this job interview lighter. And parenting. And this move. And the hubs. This all could be lighter.”

The next day - a full week after Blair spread the hold it lightly gospel, I drove down to my daughter’s school and picked her and her friend up. I bought them some books at the book fair - more than I would have normally because I was holding it lightly. I took them to an indoor amusement park at the local mall - a place I have avoided for the two years we have lived in Amman because I was holding it lightly. I got them ice cream because I was holding it lightly. And it was all lighter and dare I say, easier. 

I felt my pocket vibrate as I stood in this overpowering room full of obnoxious noises and flashing lights, full of loud kids and louder sound effects. I pulled my phone out and my brother’s name was on the screen. I popped an AirPod in my ear and slid the answer button across the screen. “Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” he responded. “Is this a good time?”

“Well, I’m in a loud indoor arcade,” I started, “but if that doesn’t bother you it’s a great time to talk because I want to be anywhere but here.”

“It’s fine by me,” he laughed. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you so I’m happy to distract you now.” We proceeded to do a little small talk - quickly checking in on each other’s partners, kid/s, lives, weekends before he got to the heavy stuff.

“Listen, Rachel and I have checked in with our parenting therapist on this, and mom, and Dan and everyone is supportive. But, before I really made the decision, I wanted to run it by you too,” he began, referring to the crew of us who had become his divorce support group - his fiancé, mom, best friend since childhood, and me. 

“Okay,” I said. “I’m listening.”

Over the next 10 minutes, he proceeded to tell me how tired he and Rachel were of the fight - how they had become shells of themselves, riddled with anxiety, up to their eyeballs in debt. And although they (and everyone else around them) knew that they were great parents (to put it simply), that he didn’t want to fight anymore. He just had to put it down. It was too hard on him, on Rachel, on the kids, on their financial security, on their future.

“You need to hold it lightly,” I said when he paused to get my reaction. “And that makes perfect sense. You guys have been holding on so tightly in fear that if you don’t it’s all going to come crashing down around you. But the gripping is too much. You can’t continue this way forever and that’s okay. It’s okay to just hold it lightly.”

There was a pause before he spoke - a moment when I knew that his army of defenses and excuses were thinking about preparing themselves for yet another battle. But they were tired and the moment was fleeting. 

“Exactly,” he said. “I’m just so tired of holding on so tight. I’m ready to let this go. I’m ready to hold it lightly.”