Reserves: It feels good to give.

Welcome to the 3rd of a four-part series about The 4 R’s.
Part one is Retreat, part two is Recovery, and this one is Reserves!

It feels good to give.

I remember coming to that realization when I was around 12 or 13 — an age where I'd been in the babysitting game for a couple of years and was starting to make enough money that I could buy my friends and family Christmas presents.

Prior to that, Christmas had always been about receiving gifts because kids generally have no money of their own and care a lot more about getting stuff. But being able to pick out a special thing for someone that I loved, imagining how much they would love it, and actually seeing the look on their face when they opened the gift and did love it... holy hannah that felt good.

Whether it's giving the perfect gift, dropping off dinner for a friend going through a rough pocket, or being with someone until they make it to the other side of a hard feeling, showing up for and supporting the people that we love is part of what enriches our life — it’s definitely a feel-good part.

But when it comes to accepting generosity, going through a rough pocket, or being stuck in a hard feeling... you know, the times that we need people to show up and support us? Let's be honest — it doesn't feel as "good."

But giving and receiving are a two sides of the same coin thing.

And while a lot of wellness culture is focused on the routines that we create in our day-to-day to meet our needs (Recovery), the Self-care picture isn't complete without talking about community care, nourishing connection, and the ways that we're there for each other (Reserves).

Because we need each other to survive.

The rituals and routines that we set up to meet our needs are definitely important — after all, you can't pour from empty — but what do you do with the resources you're filling that cup of Self with?

Welcome to Reserves

I've mentioned in the past that when I started laying the groundwork for the 4 R's (tbh in the beginning it was the 3 R's — but more about that next week) I had them set up in a somewhat linear fashion, so that you'd "progress" between stages:

Retreat → Recovery → Reserves → Revolution

You fluctuate between the R's depending on what's going on, but let's be honest — this kind of feels like it's "ideal" to be hanging out at the "top" of this lineup. Plus, as one of my Stayin' Alive crew pointed out, this structure feels a bit like you have to "accomplish" one level to be able to move "up" to the next one, and because it's a constant practice, you'll never "get to" Revolution.

Clearly, I had to rethink things. (I did.)

Today I want talk about this whole "being in Reserves is ideal thing" because yes, it feels good to give. And while it feels good to receive when you're a child and haven't yet been indoctrinated into all this unworthiness/hustle/supremacy bullshit... It is really forking hard to receive when you're an adult.

That’s especially when it's something you deeply need and feel vulnerable asking for — like a safe space to fall apart and be really honest about how not okay you are right now. Or when you need someone to drop off some food and make sure you actually eat it. Or when you don't know how you're going to pay next month's bills and have to ask for help. Or when you feel like when someone else "deserves" the help more than you do.

That kind of receiving is hard because we've been taught that needing makes you weak. That admitting you are struggling is a sign of moral failure. That you must be able to do it on your own or it doesn't count. That you aren't deserving of care.

And that's just not true.

In fact, from my experience, the exact opposite is true.

Remember that whole "we need each other to survive" thing? Well. It turns out that the genuine human connection bit cannot exist without that vulnerability piece. Because when we're able to honour our needs and heal our wounds, the source of our pain becomes the birthplace of empathy — and that empathy is necessary for the connection we crave.

But we can't get there if we pretend that we aren't hurting and don't need each other.

When I first spoke up about my struggles with postpartum depression and anxiety on my friend Ash's podcast, Kilter & Mint, I wasn't sure how people would react to what I shared — like talking about mental illness, rage, and some of the grittier aspects of motherhood.

I wanted to share my story anyway, because when I was in Retreat mode I honestly didn't think I'd make it; we often talk about suicide being the cause of death, when depression is the train that brings people to the reaper's station. But part of what got me through the darkest pockets was clinging to the stories of other women who'd been stuck in that same tunnel and made it out the other side.

Hearing others say that they'd felt that way and that it gets better if you can keep going — they were living proof that the biggest, hardest feelings that I had weren't going to kill me. I devoured their stories of survival and focused on one step at a time, trusting that I'd be able to look back one day and say, "Holy crap I did it."

Now, I get to be living proof that the biggest hardest feelings didn't kill me because I'm still here talking to you today. Through writing and podcasting, I've been able to share my story, which has helped others give voice to their experiences and find their own path to healing — which has been an honour to witness.

It feels good to give.

But remember — the R's exist on a spectrum, and, they go hand-in-hand-in-hand-in-hand:

I couldn't show up the way that I do now without first healing the wounds that sent me into Retreat.

It's in that space that I was able to identify my needs and find ways to honour them, but not without letting the illusion of independence crack by admitting that I wasn't okay. And. I found the courage to do that because of the vulnerability of survivors who been stuck in their own tunnels, and shared their stories of getting out.

I have Recovery skills because Retreat taught me the importance of setting and maintaining boundaries — and the cost of not setting them — so that I can claim the space to take good care of my Self with conviction. In Recovery I'm able to find resolution and build resilience so that I can keep going, instead of getting stuck in the riptide of neglected needs. When I'm consistent with my Recovery practices, I'm able to build healthy Reserves to give from so that I can support the people I love, and ultimately, create meaningful change.

But the only way that I can maintain those Reserves to give is when I'm also willing to receive support from others, which means I need to be able to admit I can't do it all.

Because remember the whole "can't give from empty" shtick?

If you don't take time to identify your needs and claim the space for Recovery, you will run towards empty by default. And once you hit empty there is no more giving — instead, you dole out harm, in spite of your very best intentions. That impact is what we need to take responsibility for, and the repair starts with inner work.

OKAY. So now that we've set the stage for this conversation, let's really talk about Reserves. 😂

Reserves in practice

When I talk Reserves, I don't just mean a "nice to have" thing like discovering a surplus in your budget or a reserve tank that you can flip on when you run out of gas.

Reserves is about the ways that we show up in our lives, and how that contribution changes depending on how resourced we are.

There are certain responsibilities in life that exist whether or not you have "reserves of energy" — I mean, I have two kids who, at ages 3 and 5 (which is how old they were when I originally penned this piece) still screamed exactly what they were thinking, and acted exactly the way that they were feeling, whenever the fork they wanted to. Their behaviour has changed as they’ve gotten older, so now it’s more about fighting over video games and controlling the tv and handling persistent conversations and questions about everything all the time and general breaking shit accidentally…

You know. Normal kid stuff.

The point is that when I have Reserves, I'm able to meet my kids where they're at in these moments from a calm and level-headed place, instead of reacting from an untended 11/10 on the stress scale, or being too distracted by my inner ruminating that I miss their bids for connection. And if I miss those bids too often while they’re young, they’ll stop making them — that’s not the relationship I want to have.

I practice Self-care so that I can be there for them, because I’m their mother and that’s my most important job.

That sounds simple, but it's funny how quickly our nervous systems can hi-jack an experience.

When I'm resourced, a crash-and-bang-and-tears level of horseplay is met with holding space for their feelings before reacting to the incident — to take a breath and ask, "What are you feeling? Are you hurt or scared? Will a hug help? What do you need? I'm glad you're okay."

Escalated stress level me has an incredibly low tolerance for loud noises and rambunctious behaviour, so my system gets easily overwhelmed and my brain catastophizes everything. This does not facilitate calm parenting — depleted me is more likely to rush into the commotion yelling, "Well what did you expect when you jumped on the couch? I TOLD YOU not to do that!"

I get to the "are you okay" part afterwards, but I'll be honest — I'd rather lead with it than repair after the fact.

Our patterns and ways of being are perpetuated in all of the relationships we have, and they take different forms depending on the person you engage with and your identity in the dynamic; regardless of your role, how you are resourced and the way that you show up influences the quality of that relationship — that’s what the stack of Self-care cups is all about.

Your Reserves will be at different levels, during different stages, in different relationships. That’s normal and healthy.

You could have the Reserves to hold space for your friend as they navigate some emotional turmoil, while feeling completely unable to hold space for your partner at the end of their long day. Or you could feel more tenderness towards your baby when they cry than your toddler who's throwing a tantrum. Maybe you have no issue holding space for one colleague to rant about their day, and zero capacity for another.

Your Reserves depend on the reciprocity in the relationship — and that's constantly evolving.

Your ability to hold space for the inevitable conflict that comes with relationship depends on you having available bandwidth; so that you can take on the perspective of someone else (which is HARD), and practice empathy (HARD), without jumping to judgement (HARD), or initiating your subconscious defence mechanisms (HARD), and contributing to a cycle that perpetuates harm (HARD) without creating space for resolution (HARD).

No matter how resourced you are, this work remains challenging — but I hope you're not discouraged. Because like I said last week:

A healthy Self-care practice helps you you get better at rolling with the punches and (hopefully) sticking the landing — and that’s where you learn to hold your ground so you can stand up for the things that really matter.