Category: Emotional Health

Last week someone commented that I’m always writing about rest.

“That’s because I’m rubbish at it”, I replied.

“That’s terrible”, came their response.

The conversation was interrupted so I remain unsure exactly what this meant. But what I do know is that I write about rest a lot because I am attempting to keep it on my radar. And I’m doing this because my resistance to rest is exhausting! By continuing to write about rest, I continue to remind myself to practice it.

Part of my commitment to spend more time away from the never-ending to-do-list of adulting, is by having a work free Wednesday. My mid-week work break offers the chance to stop, catch my breath and practice more rest and play. By doing so, I recharge ready for the rest of the week. In theory at least!

After a non-stop rushing here, there and everywhere style Wednesday, I redressed the balance on Thursday. I released myself from work commitments (mostly) to take time out with a trusted friend.

As the clouds were having a break from rain releasing, we walked from hers to a beautiful venue. We were accompanied by her four-legged woofers, one of whom I met for the first time. What a beauty! Her energy and enthusiasm meant she hadn’t mastered the art of bounce control when it came to jumping all over me. But when a small child drew face to face and put her hands on the pup’s face, the pup responded with gentleness. Wow!

Anyway, our afternoon proceeded to be a banquet for the soul. I enjoyed the contented tail wagging presence of the woofers with the ease of conversation that comes from a friend you’ve known for decades. The scenery was stunning complete with winged visitors who varied from robins to blackbirds to magpies. The food was homemade, bursting with colour and flavours that made it a delight to indulge in. And there was a gift shop full of beautiful things to look at.

The simple act of time in nature with a good friend can refresh all parts of us.

I’ve always loved swimming especially in outdoor pools. The local ones opened about ten days ago. Wild water swimming is very on trend right now but my inability to tolerate coldness means that heated outdoor pools are as close as I get. I gave the pool a swerve last week due to half term. The onset of perimenopause has seen a corresponding onset of noise intolerance. This means the swimming pool/half term combo is one to be avoided.

It was cloudy when I decided to sample the pool for the first time of the season. The clouds are usually very effective crowd removers which I love as I don’t love crowds. I cycled there as I find it less stressful than worrying whether I’ll get in the car park or have problems with the ticket machine.

As I approached the outdoor area, I came face to face with a sign. It said something about ‘delicate feet may get sore from the outdoor floor.’ What? I half expected a sign in front of the pool to warn swimmers that by entering the water, they may get wet!

Anyway, I was excited to be back in the outdoor pool under the sky, the clouds and the birds. It was cold but it only took a few minutes to warm up. I love the fresh air and space of being outside. However, thirty minutes in and my body was no longer able to sustain a warm temperature. Historically I’ve been incredibly hard on myself by believing it criminal to swim indoors if the outdoor option is available. I’m practising being a little kinder so I realised after pushing on for a further fifteen minutes, goosebumps and all that I could finish my swim inside. I really like it when I remember to be nicer to myself!

Inside where it was sweatier, more enclosed and noisier, that first length felt like being in a warm bath compared to outside. I loved it! And I saw a few other swimmers in there who I had assumed to be way too hardcore to catch inside! I completed my hour and went for a shower.  Revelling in a hot shower for however long it takes to warm my system minus the worry of the cost is one of my favourite things. And it usually generates lot of inspiration and ideas for whatever I am working on.

For me, the velvety feel of the water combined by the non-joint hammering business of swimming, make it one of my favourite forms of exercise. I’ve often been asked how many lengths I swim. I don’t count lengths as I want to enjoy the swim with my mind free from number-holding to go where it wants. The whole experience is another way to strengthen the mind/body connection minus the knee pain that running now often brings.

A simple but enjoyable form of self-care.

What works for you?

Yesterday while scrolling on Facebook I read something that activated my bullshit detector. It was something about what’s important in life. Most of which I agreed with. However, one line jumped out at me. It turned me right off and I stopped reading immediately. It read something like,

• ‘most people don’t have jobs they love, they have jobs they sometimes like, that pay the bills’.

At first glance most would probably agree. I call bullshit. Quite often untruths parade about the place with a kernel of truth that gets accepted as the whole truth. Nothing in this life is all true or all untrue but a mix of both. What we refer to as truth is rarely the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. You’ve only got to look at our justice system to see theatrics in action around the concept of the whole truth. (and of course some good cases of justice, somewhere I hope). What things look like often gets accepted as truth if it’s presented in a convincing enough manner. Or like the quote above, if enough people accept it.

Anyway, back to this idea about work. Let me be quite clear – I love my work whether writing or counselling, with all my heart, mind and body (we really can’t separate these).

On the counselling front, it is a massive privilege to hold space for people with the courage and commitment to grow despite the growing pains involved. To watch people benefit from the fruits of their labours makes my heart skip for joy. I have on occasion even been known to jump up and do a jig in response to a client’s growth. I did ask their permission first as I didn’t want to totally weird them out! But I do get very excited about this work which can at times even incorporate play.

It would be remiss of me not to add that the work is also tiring which translates into lots of breaks and time out in nature.  As for admin and accounts, what a yawn. When it comes to tech, don’t get me started. And, counselling others can be extremely difficult when I am going through a difficult phase myself. Hence my ongoing commitment to my own counselling when required. (which is quite a lot!). But, all things considered, I love this work.

As for the writing, this has always been my play but can also be work. I’ve been working on my first book for forty-eight years so far! This definitely feels like work. When I don’t write enough to balance my counselling work, I become a much grumpier version of myself. And so I try to permit myself the play of writing as much as time and energy allows. For everyone’s benefit.

Therefore, this notion that we cannot do work that we love does not fit my lived experience. I need to point out that this job that I love so much didn’t fall out of the sky into my lap. I spent a decade training, volunteering, sacrificing holidays and cars and moving house or rather room/bedsit, eight times. During which I worked in a secondary school and I cleaned people’s houses. Financially I pretty much lived off fresh air and prayer. I can subsequently testify that God did provide while I was developing the desires He put on my heart.

Suffice to say this was not an easy decade in any way, yet I’d do the same again. That’s before I factor in the family stuff – surviving this remains my biggest achievement to date.

Anything worth having in life requires work to make it a reality. No one gets to avoid that. Except maybe the super privileged. However, the school of hard knocks teaches lessons in character and attitude that entitlement can’t.

So after reading what I read yesterday, I felt very sad that the majority seem to accept this nonsense about work being merely a means to an end. There are times when this is true (see above) but as a lifelong philosophy? It makes me conclude, rightly or wrongly that if people accept this as truth, this is what they will settle for. I’m not imagining that everyone has huge passions in life. But all have a unique set of strengths and weaknesses as well as benefits and challenges. I believe that life and work is about bringing our all to the table to do the best we can with what we’ve got. I’ve come to believe that when my heart is no longer in something whether a relationship/job/church/whatever, it’s time to get the rest of me out.

And wherever I go in life, those individuals that put their heart into their work stand out in the very best way. Certainly they are in contrast to those whom everything is too much for them to do. And I do say this as someone who was once told by a colleague my epitaph would read, ‘Jo cba’d Loach’. This was fair and true while stuck in corporate captivity. We all have jobs that bring out the worst in us (I felt like a caged animal) and those that bring out the best, as well as all in between. It is our responsibility to choose which we will aspire to, settle for, or take steps towards.

It’s important to acknowledge it’s not always easy to seek the path of fulfilment. And we all have bills to pay. But, I honestly believe that if we seek for what our hearts desire where this brings enjoyment to us and others, there is always a way.

We don’t have to settle for the lie that work cannot be enjoyable, fulfilling or enough to pay the bills. This is of course easier for those like me who are happy to live out of charity shops and Lidl’s!! The chains and trappings of success are not for me; not at the cost of my time, energy or lifestyle.

Work can be a source of enjoyment and fulfilment as well as a few unavoidable stress evoking bits, for us all.

Today I tried a Thai massage. Or should that read Thai torture session?! I thought I would like it given my positive experiences many moons ago while travelling in Thailand. What I noticed was some striking cultural differences between delivery of this as opposed to a massage from an English person. For example, the English enquire as to what kind of pressure we want and ask us to say if the pressure needs adjusting (knowing we’re often far too polite to do so leading to regular check ins). Upon completion we may also be asked how it was for us.

On this Thai front, things were done differently by the one delivering it. The pressure was such that at times a few involuntary groans/whimpers burst out of my mouth. This despite an ability to bite down the words or sounds that could make matters worse, being learned at a young age. But even this entrenched grinding/clenching manoeuvre was overridden by the extraordinary level of pain experienced!

Now, I’m the first to admit I am very wimp-esque when it comes to physical pain. My feet have bled in response to a Thai pedicure before – I see a theme, is this a Thai thing? But this did evoke next level pain which took me way back to similar endurance type massages in Singapore and China. I wondered back then if I was being tested to see at what point I would break (or part of my body would) by asking them to stop. No need to wonder this time as the response to my spontaneous groans and gasps (not of enjoyment) was, ‘breathe’. It was bad but I wasn’t about to stop breathing having survived way worse! It wasn’t a response of recognition followed by any appropriate adjustment of pressure though.

I could of course have spoken up and insisted in a gentler handling of my sensitive self. But as there were also moments which were nearing enjoyable, I persevered. One always feels like an endurance of such discomfort must be doing some good. I’m not sure if the ‘no pain, no gain’ motto is simply a masochistic lie we’ve been sold or how much truth is in it, if not. I guess like all things we are each different and responsible for what does or does not work for us.

Throughout I was aware that any fleeting relief upon moving away from one part of my body was quickly replaced by pain from another. Yet I also felt an unusual but good feeling in the parts of my body that had been battered/massaged. I was torn between thinking it was making me feel good and at times being more painful than I wanted to endure. Especially when paying for the privilege.

Towards what I hoped was the end, I noticed myself start some plea-bargaining style prayers to God. You know the type, ‘Please God, if you make it stop, I’ll be a nicer Christian’ type stuff. But I quickly realised I wasn’t even fooling myself let alone Him! And besides He has given us free will to own our choices and I chose to have the massage and I kept choosing to let it continue. I was thrilled/relieved/grateful when it finished though. On my way back through reception, I grabbed a sweet.

“I think I deserve that for surviving the experience”, I commented to the person sat there. They were too English/reserved/disinterested to reply.

And as I wasn’t asked how my experience was, I couldn’t release the words desperate to escape my mouth,

“I am grateful I got out alive”.

All this makes me think of my clients. Quite often the process of therapy feels painful and unpleasant yet yields an improved experience thereafter! Perhaps whether physical or psychological we all have different tolerance levels. Important to check in with the individual in question and hope that they will be honest with themselves and the one asking. This whether the asker or askee.

Anyway, I didn’t mean to but I took myself for coffee and cake to recover from the experience. And I thought this probably defeated the object of self-care but then remembered my moderation rule. It was only one cake after all. (so far today).

My partners response to my experience was,

“ … deep tissue massage is no joke, JoJo”.

Well, there was no laughing involved and there was almost some crying. All of which means I won’t be subjecting myself to round two.  Some massages are relaxing and soothing but leave me feeling like I’m still tense inside. Others leave me feeling way better once they’re over than while they’re happening. And some hit the spot which releases tension without annihilating me in the process. Hurry up and come back regular massage lady, is what I have concluded.

Hopefully I won’t awake covered in black and blue bruises tomorrow! And no, I am not being dramatic!

As a self-confessed fair-weather walker, I’ve cancelled today’s walk, in favour of all things indoors. As my regular massage lady is currently out of massaging-action, I’ll be sampling a local Thai massage. I’ll report back but I’m hoping for an enjoyable experience.  

This relentless rain has redirected my focus to inside matters; inside me or inside elsewhere. There are so many things I don’t want to be doing when the sun is shining so I’m keen to utilise the day. Part of this involves an article I read recently about the latest research on aiming to eat 30 different plant-based foods per week. There has been so much recent research surrounding gut bacteria and the impact on the mind/body. As a perimenopausal women, my moods have often been at the mercy of my fluctuating hormones. (Thank God for HRT to settle this). This can be further aggravated by drops in blood sugars or the inhalation of high sugar, highly processed, low nutritional content foods. The old adage,’ we are what we eat’ is true. Not just that if we overeat rubbish and under move, we will become larger in body. But also, the quality or lack thereof of food going into our guts, can also have a detrimental effect on mood. I’ve always been prone to becoming ‘hangry’ if I go too long without eating. My moods can also suffer if I don’t put enough quality grub in my body. As the owner of a very sensitive system, I must be very careful about what I put in it to maintain optimum health.

Fortunately, as a lover of food/baking/new recipe creating, I am naturally fascinated by food. Not only am I interested in the impact on physical health but also on mental and emotional health. I’m naturally drawn to the Mediterranean diet in that I love fresh fruit and veg, poultry, fish, nuts and seeds. The article I read recently flagged up thirty food groups required to cultivate a healthy gut. Not just in size but the makeup of bacteria. I can’t pretend to understand the science of this as I don’t appear to have a science chip in my brain. At GCSE I only took biology which I got an F for! (the other 9 were C and above in case you’re wondering!). However, what I do understand about gut bacteria/grub partnership is similar to what I understand about cars ie primarily what colour they are. With grub, it is apparently good to aim for as many different colours in your diet as possible.  Whereas I’ve learned too late that white is not a forgiving colour for a car.

At first glance this goal of thirty foods may seem intimidating. However, I was encouraged to discover that even coffee, that great firer up of my system of a morning, counts as one of these. Result. Ditto green or black tea which I’ve broken through my resistance to upon hearing the lack of caffeine equates to fewer trips to the loo. Win, win right? As for the rest of these thirty foods, it’s basically fresh is best. And variety really is the spice of life as herbs and spices count too.

As with everything else in life there is no point in finding this interesting if I don’t put it into practice. I have discovered that I can achieve this with a bit of creativity and a lot of planning, organising, and preparing. I know myself well enough to know I’m unlikely to cook anything healthy after work. Instead, I’d grab rubbish, therefore I am a committed batch baker of soups, salads, curries, or chillies. And cake, because I still believe in all things in moderation. (I don’t always practice the moderation part in this respect)

This aiming to achieve thirty foods malarkey can be do-able. Here is an example of my start to today:

• 2 small cups of freshly ground filter coffee – after a glass of water to wash down the vits and mins – apparently we need daily vit d supplements even on those days when the sun does shine            1
• Bowl of frozen mixed berries (defrosted!), full fat Greek yoghurt, sprinkling of flaxseed, sunflower and pumpkin seeds and oats                          4

That’s 5 before adding a mid-morning snack of almonds to make it six!

Playing around with how to get these different foods into the weekly scoff fests can be fun. And a constructive use of wet days like today. I can focus on finding, planning, and prepping interesting new recipes as a way of looking after my body/mind and the connection between them.

We really are what we eat.

And if we eat bland, boring, colourless, highly processed rubbish, our body’s and minds will pay the price in size, energy and, or moods.

Last Saturday I cycled to the local shop which I entered still wearing my cycling helmet (not just this).

“Aah you’re doing things that make you alive”, remarked the assistant.

“What do you mean?”, I asked.

“When you do what you are passionate about, like cycling, it makes you alive”, he replied.

Quite right, I thought as I left and jumped back on my bike. Cycling through picturesque places with the breeze whistling past me, the sun sometimes shining on me and the scenery wowing me, makes me feel alive, happy and free. For me, there are so many activities that I find enlivening and enjoyable. My personal challenge remains in limiting such activities to a level that enriches rather than exhausts my body. There is always a line and I regularly cross it!

In this life we can easily become so consumed by work that we forget to balance this by prioritising play too. That which makes us feel happy and alive helps to carry us through the menial and the mundane.

On Friday night when my partner and I discussed the week he suddenly announced that his learning take-away was,

“I need to spend more time doing things that make me happy”.

This was music to my ears as the observer more able to see him overdoing things than to see this in myself.

Adulting can cause us to lose sight of the role of play and rest in sustaining a sense of aliveness. We must actively address this imbalance or pay the price. For overdoing anything or under doing rest and play can have a draining, deadening, stress enhancing effect. And life is definitely too precious to settle for some half-arsed stress filled substitute.

I was reminded of this again today when I attended a funeral of a wonderful woman. Her life and faith touched many hearts including my own. And as I reflected on her life through the beautiful songs, psalms and stories of the service, I laughed and I cried. The death of a fellow lover of Jesus brings a powerful collision of emotion, both sadness and joy. To lose one we love brings sorrow but to know where they are going is a cause for celebration (and cake obvs). Even more poignant when it brings an end to any form of prolonged pain on earth.

Life is a full bag mixed with joy and sorrow, happy and sad, exciting and boring, from the moment we are born until the moment we die. While culture sometimes encourages us to stuff down our sorrow or focus so hard on work that we forget the joy of play, these emotions are a package deal. By allowing ourselves to honour them all; sadness, joy and all in between, we retain our aliveness. To block out one is to lose both along with our vitality. Life is too precious to settle for a death-in-life experience.

Whether we are grieving, celebrating, laughing, crying, working or playing, our corresponding emotions show us we are still ALIVE.