Living to Feel Better Later

What I learned from my teenage son about the elusive balance of preparation, presence, and planning.

After a lot of therapy, I realized that even though I thrive on intense human connection, I also have a terrible need to be alone. My energy healer, Mia, calls herself a “gregarious introvert.” I totally get that. I was telling her about my cocooning. That’s when I come home after enthusiastically — maybe even dazzlingly sometimes — teaching group fitness classes at a boutique studio in the city. Three or four in a row sometimes.

As fast as possible afterward, I get in bed, comforter tucked under my chin, with my dog closeby. This is where I can quietly collect all the pieces of myself I gave away. Not because I want to. It’s essential to my ability to function without drugs.

If I can’t have solitude for a while, I can be brutal to be around. There are a lot of things it took me 40 years to stop being sorry for. That’s one of them. Mia says if I can create a more broad sense of “being,” I’ll be able to give more authentically and won’t feel so depleted after being with people. So that’s what I’m working on. Also, she says I won’t be so easily wounded by criticism.

She tells me it’s the difference between pouring a tablespoon of water in a cup versus pouring that tablespoon of salt in a lake. The salt dissipates in a larger space so you can’t taste it. Either way, I wouldn’t drink the water. But, I understand what she’s saying.

There’s very little space for me between being on and off. The middle ground is exhausting and draining and probably drains everyone I’m around. Being around people who see themselves as whole, like Mia, is my medicine. Removing myself from people who act stuck and frustrated helps too.

Possible-focused people infect me with hope and creative thoughts. But I can sustain all that creative possibility only for bursts of time before I need to go back to my cocoon and rest.

Exercise makes me feel strong and sexy, so I do it. And I’ve made a decent career out of teaching it. There’s a sign on this gym near my new house that says, “Forging the beast within.” I was thinking about taking a class there until I saw that sign and thought, “God no.” That’s going too far. I need to keep my beast buried for all our sakes.

I do take my health seriously. I’ve worked in the fitness industry for years, eat mostly vegan, wear excellent athletic wear that I get discounts on given my ambassador status with the brands. I will stay through a hot yoga class with sweat dripping in my eyeballs, my mat so slippery that every inch of me wants to run out of the room. But I won’t run. I’ll finish, then go back for more. That makes me resilient and strong-willed and sure that I will feel better later. Even if my head is splitting for hours afterward.

I exist in a ‘feel better later’ world. I know that’s why I get so depleted, but it’s nice to have something to look forward to. I’ll drink only green juice for three days at a time. It used to be five, but I’m working on balance. The juice is mostly gross, but at least I don’t have to make dinner, and I know I will be less bloated and have clearer skin in a week. Exercise, clean eating, sleeping when I’m supposed to, being kind to my family, and having reserved energy is a serious business to me. It’s work.

Also, I’m trying to be vast and not too salty.

Here are the tasks that usually make me feel better later:

- Pushups

- Meditating or praying — feels similar to me

- Writing down what’s in my head

- Cleaning the house for 10-minute bursts

- Many specific and targeted supplements

- Retin-A

- Doing two loads of laundry a day

- Yoga

- Weight training

- Composting

I recently had some serious conversations with my teenage son, who I won’t name because it’s not fair. These are the kind of talks where you sit down at a table. Teenage boys mostly hate sit-down, eye contact conversations. No good can really come out of it for them. But it was one of those, “How can you have these grades? You are wicked smart. You sit at your computer, appearing to be doing homework for hours. What is going on?” The last question uses facial muscles and vocal tone to express concern and hide some but not all exasperation.

“You can’t stay at this school with grades like this. There’s a public school closer and free.” The vague threat hidden in that last statement is draped in my mind as tough love — breaking open opportunities for a character and integrity discussion. He seems to be looking past my left eye now.

He’s so smart he knows that holding eye contact and feigning absorption of every word I speak will help wrap all this up faster. But he’s also so bright he knows he physically cannot hold my eyes that long. He’s faking.

“I’m working hard. I like school. I don’t want to be a top student. I don’t want to be in every club. I want to do what I can, then see my friends. I understand the information.”

“Have you thought about how you might feel next year when you see colleges you want to apply to but don’t have the grades to get into?”

“This time next year, I hope I’m not as stressed out as all those seniors I know are right now. I mean, I want a better GPA, but it’s not worth being totally miserable.”

We are not talking about a teenager smoking pot, drinking, or doing any of the activities that my high-achieving friends do. He is articulate, friendly, and beautiful. He studies game theory for fun. So why do his grades light me up so much?

Why can’t he see that he’ll feel better later if he just buckles down and gets miserable for a while?

This same teenager spent a good deal of his life with neurological issues that caused chronic migraines. There was an associated pill drawer worth of antidepressants then ADHD drugs aimed to help these symptoms. He finally refused to take any medicine because he says it changed his personality. And none of it helped him feel better later.

He’s been through more therapy than most adults I know. In my socioeconomic group, that’s saying a lot. This leads me to consider: maybe he’s fine and the rest of us are crazy.

I can list the wellness workshops I’ve paid good money to attend to arrive at the same “balanced life” attitude as this teenager as the following:

1. Find balance in a 24x7 world.

2. Let go of the person you think you should be and find the person you were born to be.

3. Release yourself from other people’s opinions. You be you!

4. How to live un-medicated in today’s “there’s a pill for everything” world.

5. Change your energy, change your life!

I’ve recently decided to choose the perspective that this teenager’s personal clarity and disorganized style are my biggest parenting successes. And his below-average GPA, along with his stellar attitude about it and great friends who admire him regardless of that number, is his greatest achievement thus far. I’ve told him countless times, “Don’t peak in high school.” Maybe he’s just listening. I’m proud of him for knowing who he is and who he is not.

By the way, he did get into college with a significant academic scholarship, and so far, he’s made great friends. He even goes to church on his own?

I’m thinking he should start holding workshops.