I stumbled into floating during a super stressful period at work in the winter of 2019. I fell into a new role, with more responsibility and little training. Even though I chose it, it was still overwhelming. Since Covid 19 hit, I have not set foot in Float Seattle. A small safe space for me to bring all of me. An acceptance I didn’t know I needed from others, much less from myself. (I thought I’d already found that, but I have some work to do). I live alone. I work remotely. How do I process all the themes, the hurt, the pain, mostly of others, but from my own oblivion, too, especially right now?
I miss silence, but I am also lonely. I need time to process. I am a coach. To be here for myself, and my clients, I need to be able to listen. Listen to myself, listen to my clients, and listen to the world at large. I help people weave meaning and hear themselves. But to do that, I have to have my own form of centered Silence.
Silence, I like silence. Silence helps me focus. I work in a chaotic environment in Recreation, when I am not coaching. We are not silent. Try scheduling classes, planning trips and creating detailed plans for events six months ahead with Zumba in the same room. Floating was blissfully quiet. My ADHD needs a point of balance. Floating helped offset the chaos that also helps me focus. But keeping them in balance is a constant dance.
Know thyself. Seems to be one of the bigger drivers in all my work. As an ADHD coach for the last 10 years, with my business Creative Catapult Coaching, (creativecatapultcoach.com). I work with people where they are to build routines, understanding and goals that work for them. To build their capacity to be their best self. Of course, I recommend floating, but it’s not always viable. I work with people remotely, so often my clients are half-way across the country or even around the world, just as often as they are here in Seattle. And right now we are all under stress and cant’ float.
I use floating to help manage personally and professionally. Three years ago, I discovered I had a brain tumor and rapidly had brain surgery (that’s another story for another time…). Since I’ve had surgery, I have learned to be much more in tune with my body and my energy. My reserves empty more quickly than I like. I used to see the need to draw boundaries and manage my energy as a weak excuse at self-preservation. Others, much to my shock, see it as something to emulate and reason to draw their own boundaries.
I’ve always been a superwoman type person. Being unable to have the stamina to do *EVERYTHINg* any more is frustrating and humbling. But it made the boundary much clearer about what I can and can’t do. Or when I choose to push my limits, what will the impact be? And sometimes the impact is worth the recovery time, but it is made with an eye to balance these days. But I miss floating. Floating helps make everything better, calmer, and more centered. Quieter. And I’ll be back, hopefully soon!