The Power of Pressing In

The mysterious power of doing the hard-boring-right thing—with gusto

What I’m finding is that when I devote myself whole-heartedly to the very thing I’ve been resisting, there is often a surprising sense of satisfaction there.

Deidre Braley

I’ve been experimenting this week with something I call “the power of pressing in.”

The idea is simple: When you find yourself in a situation where you really don’t want to do something, but you must—either because it’s important or it’s necessary or it’s right—do it with gusto.

Now, the very reason I have had to experiment with this in the first place is that I hate doing things that are hard, uncomfortable, and boring. You?

My inclination is to either do these tasks begrudgingly or, even more likely, to ignore and evade them until they reach a sort of fever pitch and demand my immediate attention.

Exhibit A: About 16 loads of laundry piled on our couch, and a dog nearly drowning in it

I’m the girl who waits for the third overdue notice before returning my library books. I get urgent emails about updating our health insurance and roll my eyes because I just did that last year. I shove bills between the cookbooks on the counter and forget about them. I put the baby’s pacifier in his mouth at 3 AM, hoping it will buy me 10 more minutes of sleep. The kids ask me to play “monsters” with them and I say, Yes I will, just a minute, and then I busy myself with chores and hope they’ll forget (they don’t).

I’m not proud of this. I want to be better. In some cases, I need to be better.

Procrastinating makes me feel overwhelmed and guilty (consider this my public apology to all the librarians at the Kennebunk Free Library). Unfinished business makes me anxious. And untended relationships make everyone involved feel agitated and—I fear—second-rate.

So I’ve been trying out this practice of “pressing in.” It’s difficult because it’s counterintuitive and also countercultural—our brains and bodies crave the path of least resistance, and our society tells us to “follow our bliss.” (At least, that’s what my Dove chocolate wrapper said.) But what I’m finding is that when I devote myself whole-heartedly to the very thing I’ve been resisting, there is often a surprising sense of satisfaction there.

Let me give you an example

Last week, Theo and Vivian were home from school on Friday for Veterans Day. Ethan had to work, which meant that I’d be home alone with all three kids for the first time since Alden was born.

I was daunted, to say the least, and hoped that the day would pass peacefully with plenty of independent play.

The morning of, I had not even one sip of coffee before Theo was in his Halloween costume (Chase from Paw Patrol), lying on the floor in despair because he didn’t have a “Pup Pack” like the real Chase, and therefore wouldn’t be able to fight off all the bad guys apparently lurking in the corners of our home.

I offered him his school backpack as substitute.

[Majorly offensive.]

As I walked throughout the house, trying to do basic self-care activities like putting in my contacts and using the bathroom, Chase followed me, brainstorming where he could find some scrap metal to make his own Pup Pack.

As he put his little paws under the locked bathroom door and asked where he could find a net for catching villains, I knew I had a choice to make. I could try to keep staving him off until he eventually moved on to something new (which would be exhausting for me and disastrous for everyone in need of rescue), or I could press in.

So, I indulged him. I found a box in the attic, along with some ribbon and a roll of duct tape. We covered the box in tinfoil to make it look like metal. We fastened the ribbon to the box so he could wear it like a backpack. We made a net and cellphone using an old paper bag and Sharpie. And when the Pup Pack was done and his sister wanted something special too, we fashioned a Princess Purse together—complete with a secret pocket to hold her strawberry Chapstick and hand sanitizer.

I need to make this clear: I am not a crafty mom. This is not normal behavior for me. At the onset, I would much rather have spent that time reading quietly and sipping my coffee—alone. But somewhere amidst all that duct tape action and the delighted chatter of my children, I found that I was actually having fun. Let’s bedazzle that purse, I said to Vivian, rummaging in the junk drawer for stickers. Should we put a special button on your Pup Pack to eject the net? I asked Theo, Sharpie at the ready.

I had pressed in, and to my surprise, the thing I hadn’t wanted to do turned into the thing I was glad I’d done.

I have found this to be true over and over again. When the dishes are piled high and fill me with existential dread, I’ve found satisfaction in submerging myself in the task, letting my hands enjoy the warm suds and bringing order out of chaos.

When I’ve got to write and would rather fold 6,000 loads of laundry or, I don’t know, gouge my eyes out, I’ve cleared the kitchen table and made a cup of coffee only to find that the words were there waiting, and there was extreme pleasure and relief in bringing those to order, too.

A bit of advice

Pressing in is rarely easy, since it requires us to begin doing the very things we’d like to avoid at all costs. Here are two things that I have found to be helpful in my short time trying to harness “the power of pressing in:”

1. Set aside any distractions

Multi-tasking is NOT your friend. I know it seems helpful, but I’m telling you: it’s not. Trying to order your Christmas gifts online while breastfeeding the baby and playing checkers with your four-year-old will just lead to a soaked shirt, a toppled checker board, and a botched Amazon order. [Trust me—I know.]

Just do the thing, and don’t do other things. Your brain will find a happy equilibrium, (probably relieved that it can just focus on one thing for once), and you’ll experience the satisfaction of knowing that not only did you do the thing—you did it well.

2. It gets easier every time

If you’ve never tried it before, you can’t be sure it will be worth it. It feels like a gamble.

But after you’ve tried it once and, lo and behold! it did bring you an odd sense of satisfaction, you’ll begin to trust the process. You’ll be able to start doing more hard or boring or uncomfortable things, knowing that there will be a reward for going against the grain and pressing into them.

And before you know it? You’ll be having tough conversations with your spouse, calling your wi-fi provider about that confusing bill, and laying on the floor building intricate Lego creations—and absolutely slaying in the process.

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Where will you practice “the power of pressing in” this week?