I have always been a ‘push on through’ kind of person, reluctant to “give in” to fatigue or illness, but a few events in the last few years have made me re-evaluate this attitude.
One was when my mum was ill, and had been taken into hospital. It was April 2020, and I couldn’t stay with her or visit her, and nobody seemed to be able to tell me what was wrong with her. The day after I’d taken her in, having spent hours crying and worrying and having nothing else I was able to do, I joined a restorative yoga class online. The teacher opened by saying something like, “These are invitations to move; if you want to, if you need to, you can just lie here and rest.” That statement, that permission to lie still and do absolutely nothing, was revelatory to me. I lay on the kitchen floor (I don’t know why I chose that spot) and closed my eyes, and I just did nothing. For an hour and a half. I didn’t even really sleep. But it was the most amazing, refreshing, restorative lie-down I think I’ve ever had. I hadn’t known I had needed it, and I probably wouldn’t have given myself permission to take it on my own account- but that teacher knew that some people in her class would need it, and she gave permission, and it was wonderful.
Another was my episode of severe depression. I’d been aware for a while that my brain wasn’t working properly- I was nervous, had lost all my confidence at work and at home, couldn’t cope with even the smallest, most petty incidence of stress. But I kept on telling myself to pull myself together and get on with things.
I remember going to a CPD meeting led by a colleague and being awed by her professional competence and knowledge. Although in theory I was in the same position as her, with access to the same knowledge and resources, I watched this session like a bystander, unable to access it in any meaningful way. It was like watching a film in a foreign language that you don’t even speak. I think it was the next day, or within the next week, that my line manager and another colleague took me aside and were kind to me, saying how worried they were about me because I didn’t seem myself. That was it. I broke down and couldn’t stop crying. I went home that day before the first lesson, and I never taught in those classrooms again.
In this scenario, I do wonder whether, if I had admitted earlier that there was a real problem, I wouldn’t have got into such a bad state. As it was, I could barely function for several months, and when my sick leave was up I wasn’t able to return to my job. Now, of course, I see the positives from that massive change, (and I’ve done a LOT of work- and yoga!) in order to recover and make myself less vulnerable to those issues with mental health; but back then I didn’t know what was going to happen. What I do know is that now I won’t put myself in that position again. I’ll take time off work, and rest, before I get to the point that I’m incapacitated. That applies to both the acute situation I described in the first paragraph, and the chronic situation that built up when I was teaching.
I’m open and honest about my mental health issues, because a huge part of the problem around admitting we’re ill is the stigma attached, particularly in mental health, and I want to help make it more acceptable to admit that we’re struggling. Most of us are more understanding of other people’s illness than our own, and I think this applies to both mental and physical illness- but it’s easy to think of situations in which pushing on through has led to a much more serious illness- a cold leading to a chest infection or flu; general fatigue and being run-down leading to viruses, sickness, and being ill for much longer than a couple of days.
The other thing a lot of people do is push through ill health for their work, and then succumb (or submit) during their time away from work. This has the dual impact of not only stealing our free time, but meaning we don’t always fully recover in the first place. We need our rest time to actually rest- not just recover- and if we don’t rest we’re more likely to fall ill to begin with. Our minds and our bodies need time away from work to fulfil the human needs we all have, for love and affection, friendship, strengthening social bonds, being creative, moving for the sake of moving: all the things that bring us joy.
So we can find ourselves in a vicious circle, or a spiral, and end up in a much more serious situation than we might have been had we just taken a day or two off when we first felt unwell.
What has all this got to do with hibernating? Well, I was in a strong practice yesterday- something I normally relish- and I found it really hard. Like, really hard. And I wondered why. And I realised that although I’ve been feeling like staying in more, doing less, resting– I’ve been pushing those feelings away, telling myself that no, I’m back to work now, I’ve had my holiday, I need to crack on with classes and practice and studying and marketing and and and… But my instinct is to keep things soft and low-key, and maybe that’s for a reason. Maybe I need a bit more rest than I’ve allowed myself to have. Maybe it’s okay for me to take some gentler practices at the moment- meditation, journalling, yin and restorative yoga- and to spend more time at home, reading or even working but easier work (like writing a blog!). After all, it’s the time of year when it’s still pretty dark, it’s cold, it’s wet, nature is still resting; and in pre-industrial times, we would all have been spending more time indoors doing quiet work and less work, just enough to keep ourselves fed and our basic needs met. In evolutionary terms that’s no time at all, so maybe our heads are in a different place, influenced by our ways of life now- access at all hours and all days to work, to information, to light and brightness- but our bodies haven’t made the same change.
If this is ringing any bells for you, maybe you can’t choose the work you’re doing, but perhaps you can accommodate the need for gentleness in other areas of life? Going an extra day before you push the hoover round or put the washing in. Turning down social invitations that don’t suit your current inclinations. Turning down requests that normally you would say yes to. Staying in bed an extra half an hour on your day off work, reading or snuggling your small children. Taking the dog for a slow, sniffy walk instead of a high-energy yomp. Maybe you could try to set aside guilt. If that’s hard for you, would it help if I told you that you’re much more able to meet your responsibilities well if you take adequate rest first? That you can’t pour from an empty jug. Can I do for you what my teacher did for me that time, and say: it’s okay to lie still for now. Take all the time you need to turn inward, to nurture yourself, to rest.
Yoga teaches us the principles of ahimsa- non-violence- and satya- truthfulness. Non-violence includes being kind to ourselves, and being kind to ourselves, nourishing ourselves in the right way for that moment, requires us to be truthful about what we need right now. Some days what we need to be kind to ourselves is the strong practice, the discipline, the clean house and all the washing done and folded and put away, the jobs done so they’re off your mind. On other days, what we need is more time to read the book, smell the roses, snuggle the child/dog/partner, to rest. Properly. Until we can pick up the jobs again and get them done- and the circle goes around again. Being aware of where we are in the circle is key to this process. Maybe something we could all do this year is feel what we’re feeling, inquire as to why, and consider if those feelings can be, should be, accommodated at this moment.
