offloading zone
learning to stay with what can’t be saved
Why can’t I just be a walking brain? Y’all know I have asked myself that question more than once.
Lately, I keep noticing just how disconnected I am from my body. Especially whenever I’m trying to process difficult emotions or take in challenging information, I almost always default to staying in my head. That mind-body split has a lot to do with the unprocessed trauma that I am still working my way through.
I dread being asked, “Where is this emotion showing up in your body?” because my answer is always the same: IN MY HEAD (even though I know that’s not the full truth). I can’t stand the body scans we do in recovery meetings. And do not even get me started on how much I hate yin yoga.
But maybe all this bodily resistance of mine is trying to tell me something.
Last week, I met with a colleague to talk about an upcoming workshop I will be leading on how to navigate academic integrity issues in the age of AI. I shared with her a classroom strategy I often use to kick off that conversation in my tech comm classes: I ask students to guess which modern technology had made Aristotle’s teacher, Plato, deeply alarmed.
Students are always surprised to learn the answer: writing.
In one of his recorded dialogues, Plato (channeling Socrates) argued that the advent of writing would lead to the decline of human memory. He believed relying on the written word would weaken our minds and mark the beginning of society’s unraveling.
Once my students recover from the initial shock that writing is, in fact, a form of technology, we then dive into its mixed legacy and impact on society. Yes, writing transformed humanity — but in shifting from an oral to a written culture, we both gained and lost something.
After I shared my classroom story, my colleague then responded with one of her own. She described being in an Indigenous talking circle, an experience that deeply moved her. In that space, she felt the urge to write everything down so she would not forget. But she also knew that doing so wasn’t appropriate in that context.
The point of the circle was to be fully present. What you remember is what you are meant to carry forward.
She connected her impulse to something most of us do without thinking: the need to offload what we’re carrying. Writing, she said, is a kind of cognitive offloading.
Cognitive offloading is “the use of physical action to alter the information processing requirements of a task so as to reduce cognitive demand” (Risko & Gilbert, 2016).1 In other words, it’s what happens whenever we use tools, actions, or our environment to help lighten our mental load.
Think of all the times you’ve made a to-do list, set a phone reminder, or used Google Maps instead of remembering directions. Offloading efforts like this frees up mental space, helps us multitask, and reduces our cognitive drain. All positives!
But if we’re not careful, offloading too much means we stop remembering altogether.
Plato feared this consequence with the rise of writing — and in some ways, he was not wrong. Risko and Gilbert (2016) described this consequence as the “Google effect”: when people expect to access information later, they’re less likely to remember it at all.
Something gained, something lost.
My friend’s passing comment wasn’t meant to be profound, but I left our conversation intrigued by the idea — and the practice — of offloading. I immediately started seeing all the ways I have relied upon this practice, cognitively or otherwise.
In recovery, I have come to see how much of my drinking was a kind of offloading — a way to numb out, shut down, escape. And it worked for me ... until it didn’t. Now I understand how damaging offloading can be when it is taken to the extreme.
But Plato’s warning, and my colleague’s moment in the talking circle, reminded me of something else:
There’s power in choosing not to offload. In choosing to stay: to stay with the moment, even when it’s messy, fleeting, or impossible to hold onto perfectly.
Going forward, I want to be more intentional about when and how I offload — not just in the painful moments I want to avoid, but also in the beautiful ones I don’t want to miss. I want to be present in the experience, and not scrambling to capture it.
Take last week, for example. I was walking to campus to hear our new Dean give his “State of the College” annual address. Spring had finally arrived in Saskatoon, and I was soaking in the warm air and the first signs of life returning to the trees and front yards around me.
As I passed through one of my favourite older neighbourhoods, I spotted three robins and a crow playing together under a lawn sprinkler. They were literally chasing the spray of water: rushing forward, flapping, darting away, then charging back in. It was adorable. It was magic.
My first instinct was to reach for my phone to try and capture the moment.
But I didn’t.
I just stood there and watched them play on the sidewalk.
And then I kept walking.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but by choosing not to document and record these birds, I was also choosing not to offload.
That memory is mine alone now — something only I saw, something that I stayed with. Not just another video I would scroll past later and forget.
Then on Friday night, Danny and I went to see Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit play downtown. It was our second time seeing them play live, and they put on the most incredible show — such sad songs delivered with so much joy.
Right before the lights dimmed and the show began, we heard an announcement: the band asked all of the audience not to record or take any photos of their performance.
They did not want us to save the experience to our devices — instead, they wanted us to save the show to ourselves. And because Danny and I gave it our full attention, I know we’ll remember that night for a long time.
May more of my moments ahead live in my bones, not just my camera roll. And maybe — finally — less in my head.
Things this week that brought me joy:
Today is Mother’s Day! Happy day to anyone out there who mothers. I’m so glad to have my kiddo in the same time zone again.
Speaking of the teen, she’s got a new (to her) car! Danny’s neighbour was selling her beloved 2005 Toyota Matrix, and it’s in excellent condition. I wasn’t expecting this purchase so soon, but the deal was too good to pass up. This car is the perfect size for her, and I’m excited for Emma to finally have the freedom to drive herself to all of her many cheerleading practices.
Today, May 11th, also marks my personal "Canada Day"—the day I moved to Canada back in 2002. Next year, in 2026, I’ll have lived in Canada longer than I lived in the U.S. It’s a bittersweet feeling, especially considering the growing authoritarianism in my homeland. My heart is broken, and while I love where I come from, I also deeply appreciate being Canadian. Hug the ex-pats in your life — we are feeling a lot right now.
sweet summer child, getting citizenship in 2016 A Kinesiology prof reached out last week to let me know how much my teaching has helped one of his honours students improve their writing skills. I’m grateful to feel bold enough these days to follow my inner compass when it comes to how I teach — and to not let others’ diminished expectations of who they think I should be get in the way.
This summer, I’m hoping to level up my professional development by diving into some reading on how to teach writing in this new world of AI tools. Starting in June, I’ll be part of a summer reading group discussing John Warner’s newest book, More Than Words: How to Think About Writing in the Age of AI. I will be helping to moderate the first session, if you’d like to join us.
PhDing: I am finishing up a work-in-progress-paper/abstract to submit to the Society of Research into Higher Education’s fall conference on “Compassion, collegiality and communities in higher education: challenging the discourse.” This call for papers is a near-perfect fit for my doctoral research, and if accepted, the late-fall timing of the conference will be ideal. I’m aiming to have a nearly final draft of my dissertation by the end of the year, and I would love to get some feedback!
Watching: Tara Palmeri destroy Lindy Li. Listening: to all the Blake Lively gossip. Reading: The Last by Hanna Jameson, because the world isn’t post-apocalyptic enough for me?
Meme of the week:
Risko, E. F., & Gilbert, S. J. (2016). Cognitive Offloading. Trends in Cognitive Sciences, 20(9), 676–688. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.tics.2016.07.002