When Something Good Happens and You Wave It Off
Something good happens. A compliment, a piece of news, a morning that simply goes well.
And before it has finished arriving you have already moved it along. Oh, it was nothing. I got lucky. Well, let's see if it lasts. Twenty seconds and it is filed away, and you are back to the thing that needs doing.
Now compare that to how long you sat with the last piece of criticism you received.
The asymmetry almost nobody notices
Most of us are enormously practised at the hard end. We turn a difficult comment over for days. We replay the awkward moment at three in the morning. We can describe exactly how the bad week felt.
The good stuff gets seconds. It arrives, it is deflected, it is gone. And then we wonder why a year that contained plenty of good moments does not feel, in the remembering, like it did.
It is not that the good things did not happen. It is that they were never let in long enough to leave a mark.
Why we do it
Three reasons, usually, and they run together.
We were trained to. Girls in particular are taught early that accepting a compliment plainly is a bit much. Deflecting is manners. Say thank you and change the subject, and above all do not look pleased with yourself.
Superstition. There is a quiet belief that holding something good too firmly invites it to be taken. Do not jinx it. Do not get comfortable. If you never fully have it, losing it will hurt less.
And for some women, good things genuinely feel unsafe. If you have had something taken before, joy can arrive with a shadow attached, and pushing it away is not pessimism, it is protection. That is worth naming plainly rather than talking anyone out of. It makes complete sense, and it still costs you the good moment.
This one needs the opposite of everything else
Almost every other practice is about getting some distance. Step outside the loop. Break the weight into pieces. Look at the feeling instead of drowning in it.
This one is the reverse. There is nothing here to get distance from. The work is to move closer and stay longer.
Which is why it feels so odd to do, and why virtually nobody does it.
Take it at full size
The reflex is to shrink it on the way in. A small thing, but. Do not. Name it at whatever size it actually is. Relief, joy, hope, calm, proud. If it is a big one, let it be a big one.
Then find out what it feels like
Not what it means, not whether you deserve it. What it feels like. Light, warm, open, steady, full. Where in your body it is sitting.
Most women can locate anxiety in themselves instantly and have genuinely no idea where relief lives. That is not a quirk. It is thirty years of practice at one and none at the other.
Let it be as big as it is
Good feelings get cut short before they are finished, particularly the loud ones, which feel indulgent. And the quiet ones get walked straight past, because they are easy to miss.
Give it a few seconds more than feels natural. That is genuinely the whole technique, and the few seconds are where the marking happens.
Then keep one piece
The feeling will fade. All of them do, the good and the bad alike, and there is no version of this where you keep it indefinitely.
But what you deliberately choose to keep does not fade the same way. Pick one part of it to carry out with you. A sentence, an image, the fact that it happened at all. Say it to yourself once, on purpose.
That is the difference between a good thing happening to you and a good thing becoming yours.
What this is for
Not positivity. I am not asking you to look on the bright side, and there is nothing here about attracting more of anything.
It is much more practical than that. The hard days are going to take what they take. What decides how a stretch of your life feels, looking back, is largely whether the good parts were ever actually banked, or whether they went past at arm's length while you were busy.
You have had a great deal of practice at holding the difficult things. This is the other half, and it is the half nobody taught you.
Next time
Something good will happen this week. Probably something small.
When you notice yourself reaching to wave it off, do not. Stay on it for one more breath than you meant to, and take one piece of it with you.
That is all of it. It takes about ten seconds and almost nobody spends them.
From Gina — something I built
For letting it in
Letting something good land is one of the six states SOVA was built for, and it is the one people are most surprised to find there. A short guided pass that takes the good thing at full size, finds where it sits, and helps you keep a piece of it.
Alongside it there is the sound: long, wordless and unchanging, for the moments you want to stay in rather than move on from. What it actually is, and how it is made, is set out plainly in What to Put On When You Have Got Ten Minutes.
It is free, it asks nothing of you, and there is nothing to finish.
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