When The Buffer is Gone
I’ve been doing a lot of work on the ol’ noggin - my thoughts, my self-talk, the endless loop of anxious questions circulating around my mind. All of it. This “work” requires me to go inward. I have become increasingly introspective and mindful in hopes of figuring out where these thoughts, this self-talk, and these unrelenting questions come from. And, you guys - unfortunately - I haven’t found the answers yet. But what has come up for me quite a bit lately is this idea of the “buffer. ” That precious space between our thoughts and our actions, giving us a chance to reflect, revise, and sometimes save ourselves from those irreversible moments of regret. That pause between reacting and responding. The buffer is that deep breath, that beat between two things. Beyond that, I’ve considered the idea of this shield in human form as well. A buffer in a relationship, a cushion between two people. Who is my buffer? Who is yours? And the question that has been weighing heavy on my mind is… what happens when the buffer disappears, leaving us vulnerable to the raw emotions or the complicated relationships that have been placed at a protective distance?
If you’re a tried and true Remember Me fan who recieves our monthly newsletter, you may already be familiar with the term I chose for this upcoming year (If you aren’t, it’s been a new tradition of mine to choose a word that becomes my theme, my mantra for the year ahead). This year, I chose the word
Selah
Now, I’m sure you’re thinking… whoa - that is quite the biblical term, and yes it is - but I am using it with the Rachael Spin. I’m focusing more on the pause + reflect aspect than the God and Jesus qualities and I absolutely love the word and what it stands for. When I find myself on the cusp of reacting or I feel the anger bubbling in my belly, I am really focusing on that beat, that moment of pause to STOP myself before I lash out. It’s a hard pill to swallow, my friends, to delay on purpose; to make the conscious choice to slow down and reflect for a moment. But I’ll be the first to say, once you get the hang of it, it definetely comes a little easier. Practice doesn’t make perfect, but it sets you up for success.
What does Selah have to do with the idea of a “buffer,” Rachael? Oh, I am so happy you asked! Bringing it back full circle, you guys. Thanks for your patience.
Remember I told you that I’ve been doing some work? Mentioned it at the top. Alright, well - what I have come to realize is my dad was my buffer. My Selah. My pause. He was a safe space to catch all the emotions I could possibly throw at him. He was where I felt like myself the most. My dad was able to hold space for me, he was able to create space for me and he was able to be the buffer between me and whatever was plaguing me until I was ready to deal with it head-on.
Now that he’s gone, that protective shield is too. That buffer has disappeared, that safety net that encouraged me to understand that this space of reflection exists, has vanished. My dad has left a profound impact on me, my view of the world, and how I want to leave it when my day comes. I never realized he played this role for me too. My buffer, my armor, my pause.
Through the work (remember, I mentioned I’m working on the ol’ noggin?), I am coming to terms to becoming my own buffer, my own gentle Selah. I am digging deep and learning that the pause, the beat, and the reflection are so important. The process of rediscovering myself in this stage of my life has been strangely beautiful. It’s as if I’m coming home, all over again.
