I have always prided myself on being really good at compartmentalizing.
When you lead HR, it’s kind of a superpower. Honestly, it’s a necessity. Employees come to you with really hard situations. People say unbelievable things to you. You hear things that are sad and messy and complicated and sometimes completely infuriating.
And you get really good at listening, putting whatever you’re feeling somewhere else so you can stay present for the person in front of you and keep moving forward.
For a long time, I thought I was really good at this. And then, in a recent therapy session, I realized: maybe a little too good.
Because somewhere along the way, I took a skill that served me incredibly well professionally and applied it to my personal life.
Something hard happens? Compartmentalize it.
Feeling overwhelmed? Put it away.
Sad? Angry? Scared? Hurt? There’s a compartment for that.
Close it up. Keep moving.
The problem was, I never went back. My therapist gave me an analogy that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.
She told me to imagine a dresser full of drawers.
Healthy compartmentalization isn’t pretending the feeling isn’t there. It’s putting the feeling into a drawer and closing it because right now isn’t the time or place to deal with it.
You have kids to pick up. A meeting to lead. Dinner to make. A business to run. A life that, inconveniently, does not stop just because you are having a feeling.
So you put it in the drawer, and you close it.
But you have to open the drawer again.
That was the part I was missing.
We started talking about what it might look like to create a ritual around opening those drawers. What is the safe space where I can pull them open, rifle through everything I’ve put inside, and actually feel all the feels?
And I realized I had already started creating one.
Run-walks.
I was a runner for a long time. Then I had kids. Then I started a business. And running became one of those things I just couldn’t seem to prioritize anymore.
Recently, I’ve started getting back out there.
I call them run-walks because that’s exactly what they are. I run. I walk. I run some more.
And somewhere along the way, I think.
I feel.
I let my mind go to the places I don’t always have room for in the middle of a busy day.
I open the drawers.
Some days I rifle through one. Some days, apparently, we are emptying the entire dresser onto the floor.
But I’m realizing how good it feels to have a place for this.
Not to stop compartmentalizing altogether. I don’t actually think that’s the goal.
The goal is healthy compartmentalization.
To be able to say: I can’t deal with this right now, but I will come back to it.
To trust myself enough to put something away without abandoning it.
So, for now, this is my ritual.
I put on my shoes. I go outside. I run a little. I walk a little. I open the drawers and see what’s in there.
I rifle through them.
I feel all the feels.
And eventually, the run-walk ends.
The drawer closes.
And life moves on.
Until it’s time to open it again.