There was a day many months ago when I was driving to see a group of people and feeling pretty low. I knew that mood was at least partly shaped by the rough weekend I’d had and my poor sleep the night before, but more than that I felt this nagging sense that the people I was going to meet with were feeling negatively toward me. I didn’t have specifics exactly, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that they were individually and collectively irritated or upset.
I first tried to remind myself of my possible misinterpretation, but as most purely rational interventions tend to go, that didn’t really touch the core sense of sadness and fear I felt. I tried to connect with the part of me inside that was feeling this air of possible rejection, and that helped some in at least letting me feel compassion for this dread. But the sense was still there.
So the next thing I did was take my vulnerable feelings and pull into a bakery. I ordered some donuts, ate one (that helped), and then went to see the people with baked goods in hand.
When I showed up with donuts, everyone was – not surprisingly – really appreciative and warm. As soon as they offered their thanks, smiled, and we started eating pastries together, my feelings of insecurity started to melt away. Once I felt that safety in my body, I felt more free to be myself. I not only felt better, but my engagement was better and I could be more present and connected.
Here’s the truth. I don’t actually know whether those people were irritated or upset with me before the donuts. In retrospect, I don’t think one donut delivery would have changed that, so the fact that they could respond to me warmy helped to disprove that a bit. But even if they were, my being able to ask as if I felt accepted and welcome helped to actually make that a reality.
I definitely need to break this down, because I want to be clear that while donuts do tend to make almost everything better, they aren’t the magic in this scenario. The magic happened in the decision to pick up the donuts. And, importantly, the decision wasn’t coming from a place of wanting to change people’s perceptions through dessert bribery (I’m not above this, but this wasn’t happening here.)
What was happening is me asking myself a question I’ve been learning to inquire to myself more lately, which is this: What would someone who felt safe and secure in this moment do?
One of my most beloved sources of inspiration, Oliver Burkeman, has written about what he calls “operating from sanity.” While I personally don’t love his use of the term sanity here, what he’s referring to is a state of feeling calm, focused, meaningful, and connected. What he suggests is that we are all constantly trying to strive toward sanity – treating our lives like a rehearsal for the final performance in which we finally get to experience relaxation and joy. But what if we stopped our tendency to make all the sacrifices now or work ourselves silly for some future state, and started operating from that state today. Not striving toward sanity, but operating from it.
I’ve thought a lot about this, and realized that what it requires is a willingness to not actually feel the calmness, connectedness, meaningfulness, and so on, but being willing to operate as if for a while. That requires some imagination, actually, because it forces us to consider how we – or someone, if easier – would possibly act in that state. To consider what choices we would make if we already felt those things.
We could imagine, for instance, what we would choose to do if we already felt successful enough. How we would live if we had already managed our anxiety. How we would treat our partner if we already felt satisfied with how they were treating us. What choices we would make if we felt good enough in our abilities. What it would look like if we already felt like we belonged.
This idea can run a little uncomfortably close for me to what feels like the cliche-iest of cliches – fake it till you make it. But here’s how I want to parse this: What’s being suggested here is not to deny the reality of how you actually feel. It’s in fact to fully embrace it – the frustration, the loneliness, the not-good-enoughness – and then make a conscious choice to imagine and enact what your future desired state might look like. Why not go ahead and feel the good part now? Why wait for six more years of therapy to kick in or someone else to change their mind?
There’s a vital second part to the idea of operating as if, and that’s the way in which it fuels the upward spiral. Gregory Walton, PhD, has written an entire, fascinating book called Ordinary Magic: The Science of How We Can Achieve Big Change with Small Acts about how seemingly inconsequential acts can spiral us up. Operating as if the thing we are striving for – often an emotional state of belonging or enoughness – helps it become true. This is backed by literally thousands of research studies.
What happens when we act as if we belong, are welcome, are competent, or so on is that the world responds to us as if that is true. The world might be our partner, our colleague, our kid, our friend. But when those people respond in kind, even if their response is subtle, it feels fueling the idea that maybe this can indeed be true.
The crucial reminder is that the ordinary magic is just that – ordinary. It’s not big or flashy or require a lot of time or money or special degrees. It has to be something that we can do readily, just by imagining what we would do if we already felt the thing.
As you think about this, consider something you are feeling right now. Frustrated to not have enough time. Not good enough yet at your new role. Rejected by a friend. And then consider:
What would I do if I already felt capable?
What choice would I make if I already felt accepted?
How would I spend my time if it didn’t feel so limited?
What would I do if I didn’t doubt I was loved?
Then do that.
There might be magic, and it will be you.
