I have to work today. Yet, here I am, as Gwyneth Paltrow might put it, consciously unworking. (Disclaimer before I continue: this blog does not advocate the bodily insertion of egg-shaped minerals, nor any steaming device, nor the infusion of bodily secretions into candles.)
I spend a lot of time these days working, to make up for time lost working, whilst working. Wow, that is a sentence I thought I would never have to type again after having left teaching. I like to give my whole self to whatever I’m doing – many of us probably feel the same. It’s a joy to focus on an activity, whether mental or physical, work or leisure, paid or unpaid. The opportunity to focus brings calm and a sense of purpose. The brain and body work in harmony with each other, not in conflict. There is balance. The brain releases dopamine, or serotonin, or endorphins. Or other warming substances ending in ‘-in’. But not urine, I think. Whatever; I’m not a doctor. Anyway, the point is: it’s good to focus, then rest (a different type of focus). Then focus again, then rest again. And so on.
I believe the name given to that process nowadays is ‘mindfulness’. How on earth did we, in all of our evolving ingenuity, reach the point in our modern lives where the simple act of doing one thing at a time needs to be given a naff-sounding name and heralded as a groundbreaking concept? I’ll leave you to ponder that one. On second thoughts, don’t. Just do whatever makes you calm and happy.
Balance seems an impossible goal these days, both on an individual and a global scale. Want a balanced diet? Easy: just consume food and drink in specific combinations, assuming you have the ability, scope, capacity, time and money to source, prepare and ingest what you need. Want everyone to have a balanced diet? Easy: just solve global inequality. Want to balance time for work, rest, leisure and loved ones? Easy: just give up at least one of them. Alternatively, divide your time as equally as possible between all of them, and accept that you will be not be able to give enough, to any of them.
If you have endometriosis, you need balance! In a weirdly yin-yang sort of trade-off, endo can be exceptionally helpful in signalling to your brain that something is wrong. It’s a really clever wee incurable internal growth. How it works (for me at least) is roughly this: I get stabbed on the inside, every time I overdo something (and consequently underdo something else). For example: if I drink Coca Cola (thereby overdoing sucrose and underdoing pure H2O), I immediately get stabbed. If I ignore the stabbing and drink another Coca Cola, I get stabbed even more. Conclusion: Coca Cola is bad for me. Solution: drink less Coca Cola, or don’t drink it at all. Thank you, endo!
Similarly, I get stabbed if I sit for too long – so, the solution is to get up and move around for a bit. Or, I get stabbed if I try to lift too much – so, the solution is to lift smaller loads, or lift in stages. Or, I get stabbed if I’m stressed – so, the solution is to … oh.
That’s where the problem arises. There are of course lots of ways to mitigate stress: exercise, meditation, spending time with animals or in nature, hugs, sleep, reading, talking, not talking, anything ‘mindful’ (I’m trying to accept that word, ok? – I’m just not there yet) … and so on. But what about the stresses that won’t go away? What about grief, worry, frustration, compassion, exhaustion, fear, anger, shame, pain, guilt, emptiness, or helplessness? What about a combination of any, or all, of these?
Stab. Stabstabstabstab. StabstabstabstabstabSTABstabstababSTABSTABstabstabSTABstabstab.
There is numbness, of course. The antidote to feeling anything. But that yin also has its yang. Chemically induced numbness works well – at least up to a point – generally, that point occurs when you cease to function properly, or end up in prison, or some similar kind of difficulty. Psychological numbness is possible (although that takes considerable willpower), or can also be involuntary – but that strips away your humanity. And I quite like my humanity – I might even say I’m proud of it. And I need it, for the people I love, for the community I’m part of, and for me. The only option left is: balance.
A week of toothache and heartache (plus lots of stabbing – yes endo, hello, I know you’re there) has reminded me that I have to strive to get my balance back. Both my body and my brain are rebelling against what I’ve been asking of them. I’m currently watching our elderly cat, who has definitely used up several of his nine lives over the years, caper around the garden like a kitten. That’s balance. Yin and yang. Youthfulness in old age. Health and wholeness despite frailty and damage. I need to get there – but I won’t be able to start, until I stop.[]
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