A Is for Aware
One member shared a practice for interrupting frustration: running through the alphabet with I statements (I am Aware, I am Balanced, I am Calm) as a way of remembering who you are.
At the end of a meeting that covered a lot of difficult ground, someone shared something small.
They’ve been working on their self-talk, specifically what they say to themselves in moments of frustration. Not to push the frustration away, but to interrupt it long enough to return to something steadier.
Their practice: the alphabet.
Starting at A, moving through the letters, completing each one with an I statement.
I am Aware. I am Balanced. I am Calm. I am Delightful. I am Empathetic. I am Fun.
Why the Alphabet
There’s something practical about the structure.
When frustration arrives, the sharp, familiar kind that caregiving produces with regularity, the mind needs somewhere to go. Something to reach toward. Counting backwards is a version of this. Prayer or a repeated phrase is another. The alphabet version has a particular quality: it asks you to supply the word, which keeps the mind occupied in a way that passive repetition doesn’t.
And the words that arise are reminders. Not instructions. Not aspirations. Reminders of qualities that are already there, even in a hard moment.
The Practice
The approach is simple and doesn’t require anything external.
Beginning with A, name something true about yourself that starts with that letter. I am Aware. Then B. I am Bold. Or Brave. Or Balanced. Whatever comes. C. D. E. F. The specific word matters less than the act of reaching for it, and what it represents.
Many people find they don’t need to go the full twenty-six letters. The shift tends to happen earlier. The first few letters are often enough to create a small interruption, enough distance from the frustration to choose a response rather than react to one.
Some people do this silently. Some say it under their breath. Some come back to it regularly enough that certain letters have found their words and stay there.
Other Versions
The alphabet is one approach. Others in the group offered what they reach for:
Counting backwards from a number large enough to require attention. The counting itself is what matters, not the destination.
A prayer or a phrase returned to over time, something short enough to fit in a breath, repeated until the ground feels steadier.
A physical anchor: a hand on a surface, a slow breath, a pause before speaking.
None of these are solutions to the frustration. Caregiving produces situations that are genuinely frustrating, and no amount of self-talk resolves the situation itself. What these practices offer is a moment, a pause between what happens and what you do with it.
In a caregiving context, that pause can matter a great deal.
It was a fitting note to end on, after everything else this meeting held. Not a resolution. Not an instruction. Just: here is something one person is trying, in the moments when they need to remember who they are.
I am Aware. I am Balanced. I am Calm.
A place to start.