Sitting with your sh*t

And realising it's not even yours

A few days ago my kid came home fuming. Seething. Sad.

They relayed why. And I got it. And I wanted to soothe them.

They shrugged off my hugs. Stomped off to lick their wounds.

I could have shrugged it off too, got back to my afternoon unaffected - grazed maybe, but back up and at ‘em.

But as my child thawed. I found myself getting wound tight. Thinking about what I’d like to say to the person who’d upset them. Imagining the take down. Righting the perceived wrong. And various other stuff.

I took on my kid’s anger and frustration and let it push me around for the next hour or so. Fuming. Seething. Sad.

Meanwhile the child had all but moved on, of course.

An older version of me would have let the negativity linger. Launched into tasks in a bid to pretend I wasn’t bothered.

But I’ve got good at something lately. Well, I’ve got a bit better at least, at facing the feelings in the hope of squashing them.

And I think that’s what they, whoever they are, mean by sitting with it.

I have a little chat with myself and say:

‘What is it you’re feeling and why?’

I feel it and realise this isn’t my shit. I can let it go.

My child has. And it’s life. And they’ll learn something from it, no doubt.

It happens all the time, to all of us.

Something is said, someone relays something or something happens. We walk away and feel loaded down with the residue of it.

But, like the stoics said and all the inspirational quotes remind us:

Life isn’t what happens to us it’s about how we respond.

And let me just be clear - I’m no expert at this. Everything’s always managed to find its way inside me to niggle and prod. And what I’d normally do is let it hang around too long by pretending it wasn’t there. How does that even make sense?

So now I try to sit with it, figure out what’s bothering me and I’m finding it’s either not my shit and I can forget about it.

Or, it is mine and I can do something about it.

But honestly, nine times out of ten the shit is not even ours to carry. The more you start sitting with it, the quicker you can dismiss it and move on.

(Remind me to dig out this post and take some of my own medicine next time I’m ranting about something or other).

But, whatever’s niggling at you, or worse, ask yourself is it even your sh*t?

P

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Friday Fiction

Have you read any of my fiction yet? Here’s one of my short stories:

The Bones of Him - by Penny Harrison (substack.com)