Maintaining Restorative Practices

by Cokie Thompson

The last day I came home from the office in March 2020, I sat down in a chair and fell asleep at 6 p.m. I’m not a napper. It was just all I could do to take a few deep breaths and tell myself I was going to be okay.

A few days later, I started watching Grey’s Anatomy for the first time (and sharing my reactions on Twitter). A few weeks later, I started reading for fun again. A few months later, I was able to start journaling again. Each of these things have helped me rest and connect with myself and others.

To be clear, I am not grateful for the tragedy of the pandemic. I am grateful that I have made it this far and have cultivated practices to help me survive and thrive.

These practices were lifelines as I returned to campus in late May 2020 and welcomed students back to campus last August and began to venture back out into the world after I and loved ones got our vaccines. As I begin a new role back at a familiar institution, I have faith these practices will continue to carry me if I continue to practice them.

I am worried about the next few months. I am worried about students who have experienced so much trauma, especially the cohort of students who missed prom and senior night and high school graduation and college orientation and most of their first year. I hope we get them what they need. I am also worried about us. In our journey alongside students, we may easily not give ourselves the attention we need.

I started a new job at the beginning of August. I’m in an office at my alma mater that is very dear to me. Work is work, but this opportunity feels like an honor and a gift in so many ways. I know I will hit the ground running connecting and reconnecting with various stakeholders and preparing for our biggest event of the year in a few weeks. 

One of the gifts of this opportunity is that I will be much closer to loved ones, some in the same town or close enough to meet for dinner. In my rush to build a good foundation in the office, I hope to not forget to work on my foundation out of the office. I’m looking forward to watching the sun set on my friends’ back porch, meeting other friends at their favorite brewery, and eating at my favorite restaurants from college. I’m also looking forward to watching the sun set over the river by myself, having my favorite local beer on my patio, and cooking in my new kitchen.

I hope you have been able to cultivate restorative practices for yourself. I hope you have learned to sit still or take a deep breath or say “no” to another Zoom or in-person happy hour. I have, but if I am being honest, I only allowed myself to do so because I knew I was--we were--in  crisis. As so many voices tell me that either the crisis is over or I should stop treating it like one, I worry that I will not maintain the practices that have maintained me.

I do not have a framework for you. I can tell you what my restorative practices are, but I would never presume they are “best.” I am encouraging you to find the things that work for you and to hold on to them. As we move forward into this academic year, let’s give ourselves and each other what we need to thrive, not just survive.

About the Author

I’m a white woman who has lived my entire life in the southeastern U.S. I grew up in and around conservative Christian communities, even when my household did not have a religious or spiritual practice. I am a single person without children or pets (not even so much as a house plant to be responsible for). In my second job out of my master’s program, I have the financial stability to take care of myself and have some left over to spend on myself or others. I present my womanhood in a way that is palatable to the white-centered, heteronormative, patriarchal power structures I have always lived and worked in.

I have seen these identities, the privilege they carry, and the way they shape my worldview in sharper relief than usual as I have begun my new job. I’ve had enough money to make the move easy. I haven’t worried about gaps in insurance. I bought the groceries I needed (and all the ice cream I wanted) before I got my first paycheck. As I am not new to town or the institution, I also know how to present myself in a way that blends in, which I know is what is expected of me. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about if I present this way because it affirms how I see myself or if I have just internalized how others want me to present. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to separate the two.

In college, graduate school, and in my professional career, I have only had to worry about myself. I had scholarships and assistantships that took care of most of my student bills, and I had family and a few paid student involvements that helped me take care of everything else while I was in school. Now, I don’t have any debt, and I’m not responsible for financially supporting loved ones.

As I write about self-care, I know that my finances and (lack of) caring responsibilities are maybe my greatest privileges. It’s difficult to imagine how my mother, when she was teaching full-time and raising a toddler and going through a divorce, would have found the time or money or energy to watch television or read a new book for fun, but I think she would have found a sunny spot in the house to have a cup of coffee. She will always stop and marvel at leaves changing color in the fall. She usually found time to read her Bible or a prayer book in the mornings. 

Part of what motivates me to keep going, to keep working to build a better world, is wanting everyone to have what they need to rest well. For my mother, that might always be starting the day with reflecting on her faith. For you, it might be the exact daily walk or phone call to a loved one or lunch outside you do now, or maybe it’s the same thing after a better night’s sleep or in a neighborhood closer to loved ones or after therapy. I hope you get what you need to rest and recharge today, and I hope I protect that rest for everyone around me.