Have you ever noticed how quickly one thought becomes ten?
You remember something you need to do. That reminds you of something you forgot yesterday. Which leads to something you’re worried might happen tomorrow. Before you know it, your mind is spinning—and although your body may be standing in the kitchen making coffee, your thoughts are everywhere but here.
It can feel a little like walking into a spider web. One thought catches you, then another. You try to brush one away, only to find another clinging somewhere else.
And in all that mental spinning, we can miss the moment we’re actually living.
The warmth of the coffee cup in our hands. The sound of a familiar voice in the next room. The sunlight coming through the window. The simple feeling of our feet on the floor.
Our minds naturally wander, but when we’re under stress, they can shift into overdrive. For caregivers, there is often so much to hold at once—a meeting coming up, a doctor’s appointment to schedule, medications to remember, meals to plan, groceries to buy, and the ever-present question of what might happen next. One thought catches another, and before we know it that web can feel bigger and harder to escape.
How many times has this happened to you?
We don’t need to stop our thoughts or somehow make our minds perfectly quiet. That’s not an easy task—or even a realistic one. What we need are simple ways to bring ourselves back to the present moment. I’ve found several little practices that help me catch myself when my mind starts spinning, and I particularly like this one.
Try a Threshold Pause.
For one day, let the doorways in your home become reminders to return to yourself.
Each time you reach a doorway, stop before walking through.
Take three slow breaths.
Feel your feet beneath you.
Notice where you are.
Then walk through.
That’s it.
You don’t have to solve whatever is swirling around in your head. You don’t have to finish the thought before you move on. For those few seconds, simply allow yourself to be exactly where you are.
There is something symbolic about a threshold, too. We cross them all day long, usually without noticing. From one room to another. From one task to the next. From one responsibility to another.
What if, instead of carrying every thought with us, we used those little crossings as an opportunity to set some of them down?
Pause.
Breathe.
Step through.
And begin again.
Our lives are made up of moments we can so easily miss while our minds are somewhere else. We may not be able to stop the spinning altogether, but we can interrupt it.
Sometimes three breaths in a doorway are enough to remind us, “I’m here. And this moment is worth being here for.”
I’m here. And this moment is worth being here for.
Hugs,
Cyndi