A surprising thing that creates the best kind of freedom

by Tsh

I’m motivated by autonomy. Do a little reading about INTJs, my Myers-Briggs type, and you’ll see that we’re really big on autonomy—not being told what to do, having plenty of wiggle room to exercise our freedom, thinking outside the box a bit. Being the boss of us. (We’re not always the best employees.)

There’s a good side to this. My drive for autonomy helps me focus my efforts—I’m fairly decent at knowing to what I should say yes or no, I’m willing to risk a bit to enjoy that freedom, and I’ve found myself braver about living unconventionally the older I get. (We’re good at being self-employed.)

But there’s a flip side to every coin. Being in love with autonomy means it’s too easy to stay in my head, to focus only on my needs and what’s best for my family, even if it’s (accidentally) unloving towards others. It means regularly facing my humanity; daily reminders that I’m a mortal keep me from fully living unfenced.

It’s this mortality that I want to focus on this year.

My word of the year is limits. It’s a lot more freeing than it sounds. See, I’ve realized that even though I’ve got an inner autono-monster, I don’t always need to feed it. It can sometimes be harnessed for good, but there are ways where I still tend towards childishness, and autonomy only exacerbates it.

Here’s an example. For most of my adult life, I haven’t done so hot at the exercise thing. I was incredibly active throughout my childhood and teenage years as a dancer, but it fell by the wayside, and within a few years into parenthood a decade later, I was a full-on entrepreneur with barely enough time to walk to the park, let alone stand en pointe on a stage.

Until recently, I employed my superpower of autonomy to tell myself that nobody was the boss of me; that even though I knew it was good for my health, I could exercise when I had the time.

But here’s the thing: I feel a million times better when I do. Even just moving ten minutes a day completely changes how I feel about the rest of my waking hours. (Come to think of it, I sleep better, too.) My body image is more what it should be, I can better concentrate, and I’m in a better mood. My people like being around me more when I exercise. It’s a real thing.

This means I’m intentionally setting limits on myself. Yes, I technically can spend my time how I choose—but that doesn’t mean I should. Just because no one’s telling me to exercise, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t. By slipping on those workout pants and running shoes, I’m limiting my autonomy. I’m telling myself no.

And in a way, I’m therefore telling myself yes. I’m telling myself that even though I don’t feel like it, exercise makes me a much, much better person, and so I’m doing it. I’m limiting my freedom for the sake of the greater good: a better me. I’m saying yes to the me I’m meant to be.

Limits have served us well, so I know they work. Sticking to a strict budget when we were getting out of debt meant we met our goal earlier than we expected, we’ve stayed debt-free for almost five years now, and we cultivated the habit of living way below our income. I told myself no to sugary soda a few years ago, and I’ve never looked back, I feel so much better without them. Our kids aren’t allowed on screens until the afternoon, after they finish their school, because they’re just nuts otherwise.

Limits give birth to freedom because they temper our spirits in the best way possible. By erecting a fence, I know just where I can play in the yard, and where I’ll get bit if I try to wander off.

Here’s how limits look for me right now:

• I turn off all screens by 9 p.m., because any later than that and I sleep horribly. I’ve learned this.

• I heavily limit my gluten and sugar, not because they’re not delicious, but because I’m bloated, I have a headache, and a bad case of brain fog afterwards. Not worth it. (Except when in Italy.) (And sometimes France.)

• I work and write early in the morning, because that’s when my writing is best. I take a mental break by the afternoon, because I’ve lost my work mojo by then and the family needs me.

• I exercise every other day, after getting a burst of writing done. Limiting myself to a skipped day means I’m more likely to actually do it; but by doing it at least several times per week, I’m telling my autono-monster it’s not the boss of me.

• We’re only publishing two posts per week here on AoS. Any more, and it gets harder to live the simple life we write about.

• We’re not visiting every country we’d like on our trip, because if we do too much, we lose the cumulative effects of family bonding and personal growth from being less-stressed travelers.

• I’m not buying every necklace or piece of art I see as we travel, no matter how much I love it. We’re confined to one backpack each. The laws of physics dictates that I can’t fit into it more than it holds. C’est la vie.

You know what happens when I live within these lovely limitations? I’m a better person. I’m freer to be who I was meant to be, because I still have a wide, wide field where I can play. My self-imposed fence is for my protection, and by staying within its walls, I’m a better wife, mom, friend, and person.

Limits—I can think of them as a frustrating negativity, or as a chance to be a better, whole-r version of my true self. I’m going to see them as the latter this year.

Just for fun, I also thought I’d post a sweet new song from J.J. Heller to start your January:

Later this month, I’ll share one key thing (you could almost call it a “trick”) I’ve learned that helps me meet goals, and next week, I’ll share a way we can walk alongside each other in simplifying this year. But for now—wanna share your word of the year? Do so in the comments below…

Friends of The Art of Simple:

• Stay at Home Yoga. - A Virtual Yoga Studio.
• She Plans Dinner. - Taking the Planning Out of Dinner.

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