Energetic Budgeting

Dream On, Volume 3

March Avery, titled “Family Tea”

I spent the weekend at my parents’ house editing my manuscript—long days, squirreled away in their guest room, choosing words wisely, letting go of sections, refining others. It was an extended exercise in clarity and containment.

I drove home Monday morning feeling spent—in a good way. A bit wrung out from the focused attention and fine-tuning of my work. As I drove, I daydreamed about the sweetness of my life that awaited me back in Los Angeles. A rich life of three children, my dear husband, a cozy home, a robust private practice, and a small urban animal farm of pets. I felt a surge of gratitude and love for a life which is filled with meaning and fulfillment in every corner. I also felt the pull of the demand that is waiting for me.

Simultaneously, I felt the rumble of destabilization that is happening on a larger scale. The times feel increasingly tumultuous— as if the center cannot hold. When the broader culture feels unsteady—politically, economically, environmentally—it unsettles the psyche. For even if you are not in imminent danger, the news of the day, the reality of current events, can erode our overall sense of safety. It breaks the heart, takes a toll on the nervous system. I see it in patients, myself, my city: a heightened sensitivity, an overwhelm, an edginess.

It has me thinking about capacity—mine and that of those around me. Not productivity, nor time management per se, but rather, energy. I have been thinking of energy in budgetary terms.

Where do I need to give my energy? What must I let go of? What is expected of me in the weeks and months ahead? If there is a big ask ahead, what do I need to cut? What can I reasonably expect of myself?

Patients often come to me wanting a formula to solve their problem or direct them through a crossroads. I’m not a traditional analytic therapist—I share my opinions, thoughts and feelings when appropriate; I offer tools when helpful; and I certainly become directive when people are in crisis. However, therapy by and large is not prescriptive in the “you have strep throat, take amoxicillin” kind of way. The goal of therapy is to help patients help themselves. It is less do as I say, more collaborative accounting—a space to help clarify what works for and against them.

In this way, therapy can be thought of as an audit of your life. We sit together and parse out: What fills you up? What drains you? When do you feel held by something bigger than yourself? What happens to you when life feels out of your control—which it mostly is—and how do you stay connected to your center? It is not always easy, it requires honest assessment and sometimes difficult decisions.

Then, these new insights are put into practice. In a sense we map out an energetic budget.

It is not about the delivery of a perfect formula, nor finding a way to control your environment in a volatile world, rather a way to gain clarity on your center, and learning how to return to it.

An old family friend used to produce for one of the great news anchors. When I asked my friend how this anchor managed to hold it all, do it all, my friend reflected, sharing,

“When she’s not working, she moves very slowly.”

I pictured this force of a woman, making a cup of tea, slowly dipping her tea bag, stirring in cream to quietly sip before processing, digesting and then sharing the major stories of the day. Budgeting her energy.

This feels necessary. I will move slowly and budget my energy, so that I can return to my center and navigate these times with grace and fullness.