It's Wednesday evening, and I have a few thoughts to share about those days and weeks that feel like a crumple. I've been having one of those. I developed a nasty cold this week and I'm also in the process of switching from one med to another, which comes with a lot of breakthrough depression, dissociation, and significant dizziness. And I've had a few thoughts about self awareness, self compassion, and the innate drive to do-it-all and somehow live up to that American pressure to Hustle.
And I've actually found a couple of really helpful tips through my excessive time on my phone during the crash-mode that has been my recent state. One of those tips was just the reminder that, unless there is a life-threatening situation, nothing is in fact urgent. We know that fight or flight mode takes over when we are stressed, but it is hard to consciously understand that there is in fact time, and that the urgency imposed upon us is manufactured.
The other was a practical self-regulating tool. I love adding these to my arsenal whenever I come across one that resonates with me. For anyone in a long-haul journey to find health or relief, you know that our tool-belt can never be too full. And there is something so meaningful in this one, because it seems to have a deeper meaning beneath it: our voices are tuned to regulate our own bodies, and humming can help us regulate, bring us back to center, return to the awareness of now.
I immediately thought of two things: how isolating, whether self-imposed or pressed upon you, can lead you through the healing quiet all the way to the other side, where you no longer hear the grounding sound of your own voice, let alone others. Secondly, how easy it is for some of us to think that our voices do not need to be heard, to always er on the side of less, or fret when we've used our voices in powerful and expressive ways. Let us not be afraid to step up, be loud, be heard, speak our piece, and stay in tune with our self, our voice, our strength.
And speaking of strength, it is especially easy to doubt our own strength, purpose, and contribution when we are in a low space. When we feel terrible in our bodies and our minds, and it's difficult to take each step and manage each day. But our strength isn't gone you know, it is elsewhere. It is being used for other purposes. It only feels discouraging because we often cannot see all the battles we are fighting, we cannot do what we used to be able to do, and others seem to be going along without these struggles and limitations that are apart of our daily lives.
I used to be the girl who could easily pick up one end of a couch or piano, who carried armchairs from one room to the next without waiting for assistance. And now I have to wait for help, leave the lifting to someone else, tend to aching muscles and strained joints even as an older generation thinks I'm too young to feel daily pain.
And it can be easy think we are not doing enough, because our slower days do not look like our full days. Because our new routine is not as strenuous as an old one, or as your neighbor's routine. We often let negative thoughts take over when we have to significantly cut back, to the point where we cease to see the steps we really are taking.
This week I took a "lazy Sunday" because I was struggling with a host of symptoms, both physical and mental, including depression, side-effects, and the Sunday Scaries. I got up and did a few things before bed, but still felt like I'd done "nothing" that day. In actual fact, I'd gotten up in time to join a zoomcall that was important to me (I was a little late, but I made it), I took a shower, put scrubs through the laundry, made a batch of macarons, wrapped a gift, reached out to a friend, made chicken, potatoes, green beans, and meatballs, put fresh sheets on my bed, finished an audiobook, rested, did my skincare.
I did all that I needed to, and more. I even set myself up for the week ahead, even though it was hard. And it made me realize how resilient we can be, even on hard days.
And that's not to say that we don't need days where we actually don't do anything. Today was closer to that, since this cold makes me feel like I have the flu, and between my sore throat, dry nose, congested head, and dizziness, I didn't move much off the couch except to eat food and stuff. Still, I took care of myself. I ate real food, did some (very) gentle yoga, took a shower-bath with essential oils, did some self-massage and humming to feel attached to my body again, took a nap, and I plan to meditate before bed. I felt so cruddy, in fact, that I didn't even think I could make it to the chiropractor, and so will try tomorrow. I also know that I have a class tomorrow, and a long grocery list, and so I will by necessity be more active then, and so must take that extra care in these moments.
My pajamas tonight are fuzzy sweats and my t-shirt that says "stay awkward, brave, and kind" as Brene would say. And not only is this necessary and helpful in relation to dealing with other people, relationships, and the world, it is also good advice for dealing with your own body and mind.
So: stay awkward, brave, and kind with yourselves tonight. And I hope you sleep well.
Peace
