As I’ve been reflecting on trauma, I can’t help but notice how common it is for me to feel a sense of urgency. Take, for example, my pre-work ritual:
I’m buzzing around the kitchen, bouncing from task to task with ease as I wait for my morning coffee to brew. I don’t have a drop of caffeine in my body yet, but you wouldn’t be able to tell at a glance. I flit from scrubbing the stovetop to washing the dishes to prepping breakfast with a seamless fluidity that feels like a dance.
Two minutes left – can I make it before the timer goes off? I work fast, lifting the remnants of last night’s dinner from the various surfaces in my bright white kitchen with quick strokes. Done. I slice a ripe peach into a bowl of coconut yogurt and sprinkle over granola just in time to hear the high-pitched beeeeep ring through the open space. Success! It’s a small win, but that doesn’t make the dopamine hit any less sweet.
What is it about urgency that I truly love?
This question was recently posed by Marina Yanay-Triner, a compassionate somatic coach whose gentle approach to healing trauma really resonates with me.
A constant sense of urgency – feeling like you have to be doing all the things, paired with a heavy side of buzzing body energy – is a common trait among trauma survivors. We develop urgency as a coping mechanism, and for many of us, urgency becomes a really useful trait (not least of all because capitalism loves a busy worker bee). But constantly being in a state of urgency can fuel anxiety and exhaustion.
As with everything, we need to find a balance so that we’re able to call on urgency when it’s needed, without it automatically taking over everything we do. But what about those of us who are already on urgency autopilot? Marina says embracing urgency is the key. Rather than trying to stop it from happening, turn toward it. When you notice urgency has shown up for you, try to feel it out. What does it feel like in your body?1
Reflecting on this question once you’re re-regulated is a key part of this healing. Here’s my raw, unfiltered take.2
An ode to urgency
I’m addicted to the high of urgency. That feeling like things need to be done right now, like I always need to be in motion, achieving something, lest I become lethargic and useless.
Urgency feels busy, important, familiar, uncomfortably comfortable.
Maybe it has something to do with having parents who were always moving. I’m sure it’s related to always being praised for my success and quick wit as a kid. Regardless of the origin, it’s pretty clear that urgency has a way of finding me, even when I don’t want to be found.
Even when I’m actively trying to slow down and be mindful of my pace, there’s a natural tendency to speed up (there’s that “familiar” bit I mentioned above). I go for walks with my partner who has to remind me countless times to reduce my pace.
That’s really how it feels: Like I always have to be three steps ahead. Like if I do enough anticipating, planning, moving, going, I can somehow outpace failure and danger. Like I can overwork myself into absolving the anxieties and unpleasantries of my loved ones.
Do the dishes. Quick, while the water runs, fill the kettle. Ooh, slap some stovetop cleaner on that burner, let it sit while you scrub a few dishes. Fun, isn’t it? I ask myself, a threat more than a question.
I enjoy it, sure. But what kind of enjoyment is it? Like a runner’s high, an adrenaline surge that comes from moving my body efficiently? Or more like a chemical rush, “chasing the dragon” the way you do with a drug that you need but that clearly doesn’t need you?
Moving quickly gets things done, but often at the cost of my physical well-being and my sanity. When I’m moving so urgently through everything, there’s no time to stop and take stock of how I’m feeling, a task I struggle to complete even when I have all my faculties about me.3
Maybe that’s part of the addictive pull, that it gives me an excuse for not checking in with myself. I have spent a lifetime learning that my body is an unsafe place to be, so naturally, I am drawn to activities that let me side-step those feelings. It’s much easier to focus on controlling and noticing the external than it is to be with myself.
That’s the real situation, that I don’t want to check in with myself. I don’t want to feel how I’m feeling. I don’t want to have to praise myself or validate myself. Self-validation is hard. Even if logic tells me being self-compassionate feels right, habit tells me that’s wrong. Habit tells me, hey, you know what you’re better at? Going fast and exerting control over the outside world. And damn, is it right. That’s a hard point to counter.
I love the rush of it, the sense of accomplishment and pride I get in completing something in as few steps as possible, in feeling important enough to have something to rush for. It can feel like channeling energy. It can feel like – and it can be – flow state. So where’s the difference? Between urgency in its harmful overwhelming state, and flow?
While I don’t yet have the answer to that question, here are some prompts that have been helpful for me.
Journal prompts on urgency
- When am I being urgent?
- Can I slow down?
- What need is this urgency feeding, and can that need be met elsewhere?
- What would happen if I went slower?
Footnotes
1 Really though, check out her her post! [back to text]
2 10/10 would recommend this journaling exercise. What is it about urgency that I truly love? What do I truly enjoy about this energy? I’ve added a few extra questions at the end of this post for bonus reflection. [back to text]
3 For the sake of reconfiguring perfectionism, I will now pause and recognize that learning to stop and take stock of my body and mind is a work in progress. It’s natural for me to struggle with it now. I am learning. Deep breaths. [back to text]
Good article! But for me, 15 years later trying to slow down still goes against my grain. I get more stress trying to go slow. I’ve decided to embrace my strengths.
Fair enough! It’s all about what works for you. A fast pace works as a strength for me sometimes, but other times it makes me feel frantic and anxious. For other people, moving quickly can feel like a strength all of the time. As long as it’s serving you and not running you down, that’s what matters.
Greetings! Very helpful advice in this particular article! It is the little changes that will make the most important changes. Thanks a lot for sharing!
An interesting discussion is definitely worth comment. I do believe that you should publish more about this subject, it may not be a taboo matter but typically people dont discuss these subjects. To the next! Many thanks!!