Weeks 6-7: Smart Things, Expired

Why the hardest subtractions are the strategies that used to work. And how to tell when one has stopped loving you back

You may (or may not 😎) have noticed there was no summary last weekend — it was the Fourth, and summer school observes holidays. So today, I’m covering the last two weeks. Which turned out to be a good thing, because it took me the full fortnight of posts to recognize the forest they were building. Skipping one summary is apparently what it took to see the pattern across all of them — I love when subtraction leads to a better outcome.

Here’s what my body was doing over these weeks: not lifting a single weight. Walking, golfing, stretching — but no Bulgarian split squats. I also took days off from writing, even with the highest-stakes deadline in recent memory (my TEDx script 😳) sitting right there staring at me.

And I let myself be taken care of. By my husband, my therapist, and two bernedoodles who are true pros at “emotional support,” licensed or not.

In other words: I spent two weeks letting go of my strength. Which felt, at various moments, lazy, indulgent, and potentially illegal in some states.

But as I was writing that confession, I realized it wasn’t quite accurate.

What I let go of was one version of strength: the pushing-through, grit-your-teeth, no-pain-no-gain kind. Discerning what's actually needed, and letting that be enough? That is also, absolutely, a form of life-changing strength. Possibly the harder kind to build.

And that’s when I noticed the through-line. Look at what this fortnight’s songs asked us to subtract: the rush and Spartanism preventing me from enjoying matcha with a view. The many flavors of unhelpful thinking (self-doubt, impression management, and friends). The silence about what we need, per Bill Withers. The unsaid thing, per Sara Bareilles. Lizzo’s “he” — the habit or identity that stopped loving us back.

None of these is a foolish or unwise thing to do or think. That’s the catch.

Every single one was a smart strategy or tool — at one point in time. The rushing got us through seasons that actually had no time to spare. The self-monitoring earned gold stars. The stoic self-sufficiency kept us safe, got us promoted, or both. The strength was strength, and it worked.

We rarely need to subtract things that never worked. Nobody struggles to drop those. We need to subtract smart things that expired, which is precisely why they can be so hard to drop. Some loyal part of us remembers when the strategy delivered, and keeps renewing the contract.

So here’s the diagnostic I’m carrying into the second half of summer school: an expired strategy doesn’t announce itself by failing. It announces itself by costing more than it returns. Effort in, no love back. (Lizzo addressed this: walk it out the door.)

And here’s what showed up, at least for me: country sky. Hawks — four of them. Dogs on the couch during Zoom calls. Sixes turning to nines, with nothing but a sprinkle of fairy dust.

You don’t manufacture the magic. You retire the strategy that was blocking it.

Optimism month is in full swing — you can see my Optimism Face here — fitting, since believing things could go better is what makes it possible to retire a smart habit that's run its course.

See you here daily, and next weekend for another week wrap-up. Keep on rollin’,
Nell