TGIF :: Compounding [Life] Interest

Welcome new readers!
I publish bi-weekly on how we relate to subtle ways we tune out and escape, and at what costs over time. Dimmers I’ve explored include over-functioning, alcohol, excessive work, perfectionism, “busy-ness,” and snark. The framework is the Eight Awarenesses. Prior posts here. Information about my book Undimmed, upcoming events, and more via my website and at the end of this post.

Today, a big thank you to the fellow Substacker creators who have recommended my work here. Your gestures help my offering find its people in beautiful ways. 🙏🏼

I don’t know if it’s the influence of all the health nuts in my IG feed, the imminent bi-annual UCSF oncology check-in, or the reminder after reminder to savor life, but I’ve been on a bit of a health kick recently. It started with a sugar-free month in the spring, has been supported by a re-awakened love for yoga (side quest for another day: can this be a dimmer?), and is undeniably linked to my wearable app reminding me of sleep, steps, and stress levels daily.

Either way, I walked out of my dear friend Brook’s new studio Flostate on Tuesday night, drenched in sweat from an intense workout, and made it home in time for a later than usual light dinner by myself with a documentary. (Joy!)

We have weekly date nights, but are just now implementing “To Yourself Tuesdays” in our family. These are a set evening a week during which we get to do anything we want — work late, see friends, or in my case, go to a grueling evening workout class. Yet as I sat there eating that last bit of goat cheese, seed crackers, and leftover fish, I couldn’t help but think: How did I get here?

Nine years ago I’d just recently stopped going to sleep buzzed most nights. I was in debt, and about to be in far worse as my divorce unfolded. My then-husband was in love with another woman, and I was in a toxic job (with grueling commute) that supported our family. I was drained, running on adrenaline, and deeply heartbroken, though only those closest to me could see it.

Over the months following that tough summer, a few things shifted. Yes, there was the one dramatic one of taking what ended up being a never-ending pause from alcohol (a 30-day experiment gone awry), but countless other smaller ones too. Going to sleep earlier. A clearing of unwanted household and personal items. Reading more. Adhering to consistent breakfast routines. Drinking more water. Spending less money. Playing multi-day Monopoly with the kids.

These conditions reset my compass. The decisions that flowed then had to shift. I don’t think I noticed.

Books > bars.
Hugs > heroism.
Peace > platitudes.
Rest > rev.

Several years later, what previously felt like orderliness evolved into a flavor of control that served no one. In my longing for certainty and stability, I set too many rules and grew more rigid, less fun. I can see now that it was fear-based, but at the time I called it discipline. As expectations of myself and others compounded, I spent more money on stage-worthy clothes, pressed loved ones to love me a certain way, and fell into a painful pattern of looking out for proof of lack of love. I’d swapped one set of habits I couldn’t see for another more subtle one. Micro-decisions were coming from a place that no longer felt like the inner sanctuary we all long for, a clean, well-lit home base of sorts.

Our youngest son has a knack for saving money and a current fascination with compounding interest. He gets that he can earn money on any original starting amount (the principal) plus any extra interest he’s already accumulated. Over time, savings “grow faster and faster like a rolling snowball.”1

I’m guilty of pinning big life shifts on big life moments. I’ve been coming to the humbling realization that while we might cognitively anchor ourselves in these events, because we are human, it’s actually the infinite number of moments and micro-decisions before and after that have led us to right here, right now. It’s the walk, don’t ride. It’s the reach out, don’t fester. It’s the nourish, don’t numb. It’s the ask, don’t assume. It’s the trust, don’t freeze.

“The little things? The little moments? They aren’t little.” ― Jon Kabat-Zinn

As much as I am deluded and tempted by notions of control, so much of where we land is shaped by pure luck: when and where we’re born, and to whom. Maybe for others it’s which door happens to be open the day we walk by it—a life-shaking relationship, a career-defining opportunity, a health-saving awareness. And yes, we get to make Big Life Decisions, the ones we can point to, name, write about or tell a good story about at dinner.

But compounding life interest can mean life changing long term gains. Tiny steps on the trail behind us might end up defining what we do on a Tuesday night, relational security, certain features of our health, and our ability to dance and laugh.

We tend to overlook the magnitude of the infinite, uncounted micro-decisions compounding quietly around the big ones, often stretching and growing us in ways we ever give them credit for.

Be well.

Love.

Of note!

Mainstream press highlights…. Great to see a PBS Newshour on Alcohol Policy (thank you, T, for sharing!) and a timely NYT article on the drop in problematic drinking rates in the U.S. (4 million less Americans than five years ago).

I’ll be speaking at the SOS Collective Quarterly Gathering on Sunday October 11th, 9-10:30a PT. Details coming soon.

Season Two of the Undimmed Podcast will start rolling out on September 4th. You can find it anywhere you listen to podcasts.

My IG channel for all things undimmed has migrated from @clearlifejourney to @undimmedjourney. See you there 🤍

ClearLife Reset, the company behind nutritional support around habit change (our flagship product supporting a 30-day break from alcohol, now also available on Amazon) is seeking some fresh talent. An evolving description of what we are looking for is here.