Not resisting resistance

Maybe you just need a better alarm clock. (Image from Death’s Doings by Richard Dagley, 1827)

Sometimes, even if waking up is not too bad, getting up is hard.

There is no external force that’s pushing me to get out of bed, and the consequences of not getting up are not directly evident in the cozy darkness.

But I've noticed that it is very much a finger cuffs situation: If I stop trying to get out of bed — if I let go and just do what I feel like doing — there will be a point at which, without even thinking about it, I throw the covers off, sit up, and begin the standing-up part of my day.

In fact, there's a surreality to it, as though I'm not making my own conscious decisions. "I was asleep, and now I'm awake. I was snuggled in bed, and now I'm walking around. How did this happen?" I stopped resisting it and simply allowed it.

The trick, for me, is to accept that this is my process for getting out of bed and to wake up early enough to make space for it. There are days when I wake up and jump out of bed immediately, but expecting myself to do that every day is a recipe for resistance that, ironically, makes me stay in bed longer. As with so many areas of life, when I stop fighting it, there's nothing to fight against anymore.

Throughout most of the pandemic, I've been working from home. This has meant that my wake-up time is less critical, so I have awakened without the alarm. This, of course, creates the least resistance when it comes to actually getting out of bed. I woke up because I was ready to, and then getting up is a natural consequence.

Now, I once again have to go to a physical location every day. I'm back to setting an alarm, because the consequences of waking up late have intensified. Just a few days in, I have observed that the dread of facing a commute has increased my resistance.

I can see how easy it would be to fall into old patterns of hitting the snooze button multiple times, getting on the road late, skipping breakfast, and beginning my day with a sense of resentment instead of eagerness.

I don't have to do things that way, though. I can organize my morning routine so that I have something to look forward to instead of the grind.

I can go to bed earlier so that, no matter how early I wake up, I will be rested. Perhaps if I do, I won't need to rely on the alarm.

And I can continue to build in the margin to work through my resistance, honoring that process and accommodating it rather than trying to fix it. In a sense, I'm learning how to not resist my own resistance.

There are plenty of challenges to face over the course of a day. I can focus on the ones that matter and work around the others. Instead of getting into a battle of wills with myself, pulling against those finger cuffs, I can be gentle and compassionate, working with my tendencies instead of against them. When I do, the resistance clears and I have the energy to deal with the really hard stuff — like packing a lunch.

Where do you face resistance in your daily routine? Where might you be compounding the problem by getting frustrated with your own resistance? How might you practice self-acceptance so as not to trigger this extra layer of angst? Where has this worked in the past? Feel free to share.