It struck me the other day that dealing with life’s daily activities can be a bit like running a bath. Some days you have the mental capacity to deal with everything. On those days your bathtub is almost empty when you begin and it easily accommodates everything that flows into it. On other days, your bathtub is already full when you wake, with no space for everything that’ll arrive when the taps turn on.
A while back, far too often, I’d begin my days with a full bathtub. It was always already full of ‘stuff’, competing calls on my attention, before the taps turned on and even more demanding issues flowed in my direction.
When you stop to think about it, a bathtub’s an amazing design. It holds a LOT of water. You can run the taps for a very long time, and the tub, well, it’ll just fill and fill and fill without overflowing.
Why?
Most bathtubs include an overflow pipe that ensures, when the bath gets too full, it empties itself, even if the taps are still running on full.
The thing is, when the overflow pipe is in use, and the bath enters a state of both perpetual filling and emptying, it loses its usefulness. You couldn’t get into the bath when it was doing this. The bulk of your body entering the tub would displace too much water and flood your bathroom. It’s also, assuming you’re already in the bath, hugely difficult to keep the nice things going, like a pleasant temperature or luxurious bubbles, when this state is reached.
Back then, my problem was that years of multi-tasking meant I’d developed an overflow mechanism of my own. On the days when my bath was too full, I was able to let a little, but not enough, out. So, to the outside world, it wasn’t clear I was no longer able to deal with everything. The water hadn’t flooded over the side, through the bathroom tiles and tripped the electrics in the floor below. So, I carried on, getting up every morning to find an already full bath and trying to keep up with all the demands on my time when the taps turned on. I did everything I should, family, work, self care, but, by doing too much, the quality of what I was doing simply wasn’t right.
Eventually, I realised it was time to take control. I needed to empower myself to stop and properly empty the bath each time it was needed. So, first of all, I’d turn off the taps. I’d temporarily step away from work and my other commitments. Then I’d pull the plug. It was only then, as the bath emptied, that I was actually able to make sense of all the issues that had been in the tub for too long. Instead of half-baked attempts to deal with problems, because ‘that’s all that time allowed’, I’d properly get to the bottom of them. It would feel great to sort them out, then watch them disappear down the plug hole.
Truth is, by learning to regularly stop and empty the bathtub I was able to clean away the forgotten tide marks that were revealed as the water receded. These were the residue left over by quick fix attempts to keep my too full bathwater ‘fresh’.
And now? Most mornings I get up and find my bath’s empty, which feels great.
For me, taking the time to stop, reassess and choose how full I want my bath to be is essential. Before there were times when I was only just keeping my head above water. Now I feel like I’m enjoying life in a jacuzzi.
OK, I’ll stop mixing my metaphors and similes and leave it at that.
The takeaway message from this bathtub bonanza is simple. In this fast-paced world, it’s easy to overlook or ignore our own patterns of stress. If we can’t (or won’t) see a problem, it’ll get bigger and bigger until it affects both our mental & physical health. While it may sometimes feel more convenient to ignore warning signs, it’s never a good idea to neglect our health. Sometimes you need a bit of space to pull the plug out and reset.
That’s why I’m off now for a comfortable soak, assuming I can find my rubber duck…
Murph
