Working from car
How do we reframe things in ways that work for us?
In the last few weeks I’ve taken to working from the car. Desperation *drove* me there (pun intended).
I’ve been having this awful intermittent nerve pain issue, and at some point I realized that I didn’t feel the stabbing leg pain often when I was in the car. Something about sitting in those gray seats of our 2010 Honda Civic (named “Mr. B” after its former CA license plate) seemed to soothe whatever nerve was getting pinched.
So, when chair after chair and sitting position after sitting position in my home proved unsafe, I gradually started spending all my sitting time either cross-legged on one particular couch or outside in the car. Preferably on the sloped driveway, facing uphill. Window rolled down. Seat reclined a bit, and scooted back as far as possible to allow room for books and/or laptop.
I was so glad to have found the car as an option that, even after many hours spent sitting in it, didn’t trigger the nerve pain.
At the same time, I feel a little self-conscious sometimes about sitting out there. Neighbors pass by and may or may not see.
I’ve told some of them about the nerve pain issue, and everyone has been sympathetic and kind. Still, though, I would rather not be the person with the broken body who has to work from the car because most other options risk triggering a horrible pain that I want to avoid at all costs. I would rather be strong. I would rather be able to sit anywhere I like.
It felt a little sad. I felt a little sorry for myself, sometimes.
One day, though, I was at my chiropractor appointment, and I happened to mention that I’d been sitting out in the car a lot because it seemed less likely to trigger the leg pain. As I said it, I felt…ashamed? Embarrassed? Sheepish? Sad, or sorry for myself? I’m not sure. Probably some combination.
It took my chiropractor a second to process what I was saying—that I was literally spending my work hours sitting in the car in my driveway with my laptop on my lap. But as soon as he understood, his eyes lit up. Really? He said, becoming animated. That’s awesome!
My face must have looked skeptical.
He went on, No, really, that’s genius! It’s so creative! That’s some real out of the box thinking, literally.
I couldn’t help but smile. His unrelentingly positive attitude reframed how I thought about working from the car.
Now, genius is probably too strong a word. But he helped me see the resilience of it. He helped me reframe my working-from-car as something smart and creative rather than sad or embarrassing.
I think about all the people with all sorts of disabilities and other issues who think outside of the box all the time—because they have to. There’s real brilliance in that. So many people adapt to the realities of their lives in so many small, amazing ways every day.
I think these things are worth celebrating. Not the pain or any other illness or injury. But the brilliance that lives within each person who has figured out how to live with their reality in some really unique and interesting ways.
Maybe I can see myself as some small part of this. I think that’s a good thing.
This way of reframing things really worked for me—and I take note of that, because not all reframings work for me.
Recently, for example, someone told me about a time when they were feeling down, but an acquaintance reminded them that they have a roof over their head and food to eat. So much to be thankful for.
That worked for this person. And I love that for them. But I’m not sure it works for me.
Humans need housing and food security in order to thrive, for sure. But we also need more than that. We could have all the material comforts in the world and still be miserable and unfulfilled because we don’t have the things that actually make life meaningful.
As Tyson Yunkaporta put it in Sand Talk, “We want shelter, food, strong relationships, a livable habitat, stimulating learning activity, and time to perform valued tasks in which we excel.” That feels about right to me.
I’m thankful for food and housing, but I also know that this is not all I need to live a good life. And I find that I don’t generally become happier by being told that I should be happy because I have enough material stuff. That way of reframing doesn’t really work for me.
But maybe I do become happier, or at least encouraged or enlivened in some way, by being reminded that I—like all humans, and especially those who have been through some stuff—am creative, resilient, strong, and courageous in my own unique ways.
I think this is worth reflecting on. I think it’s worth finding ways of reframing that work for us—and letting go of ways of reframing that don’t feel like they’re working. Even if we feel like they should work. Even if they work for others.
And, as we learn to be good kin to one another, we can offer one another the gift of a different perspective, a different frame to look through. We can notice and affirm the courage and strength we see in one another. We may not feel thankful for our circumstances, but we can stand together in them.
How about you? Has someone reframed something—or have you been able to reframe something for yourself—in a way that really worked for you? Have you become aware of ways you’re living with courage and creativity in the midst of hard circumstances? I’d love to hear.
it's genius b/c you seem to have invented your own zero gravity chair!