Transitioning Back Part 2.

In my last post I said that it's easier to let go of trying to think my way back because I know now that

I will find my way back to what's important. I don't need to think my way there.

How do I know this? What changed? That's a question a lot of people I talk to (including my coaching clients) want to know about, because it's hard to believe that it will change when you are stuck feeling like you have to lasso yourself onto all of your ideas.

One thing I mentioned last week bears repeating: I am not (nor are you) the sum of my ideas. That makes it ok to lose track of my ideas.
I think that's actually the base of what's changed, because it's now okay to see myself as something other than my ideas. I think this is particularly hard if, in addition to the hyperthinky tendencies, like me, you grew up in an intellectual culture, so give yourself some slack if that's true (or if it's not!). It's also okay not to reflect on who I am or what I am very often.

That's one of those funny-to-hear-from-a-coach statements; aren't life coaches supposed to ask you to focus on what's at your core and all that good stuff? Perhaps, but for me I've really shifted to whatever works as a way of getting further. Point being, that type of contemplation often backfires if you're somebody who quickly sees every idea from every possible angle. Sometimes it works better not to worry too much, not to deal in, that discussion with oneself, even if it is useful to know what's important to you.

I guess I started by feeling that it's important to be at peace with myself. It's important to feel well. It's important to DO and not just think.

And now I'm not sure I've answered my own question: what's changed? Here's another brief attempt:

When my thinking hijacks my experience, I don't buy into it. I notice it, step back from it as best I can, consider myself hijacked if I can't get out of it and down to earth, and wait it out. I like to think I experience the whole thing less nowadays as a result, but that when it springs up, it doesn't feel like a comment on my identity, nor some dialog I need to be obsessively involved in.