Nov 2, 2022·edited Nov 2, 2022Liked by Holly Rabalais
When I'm in a sighy fug (my own expression to describe my own feelings) I turn to the lovely simple things that I succeed at:
I cook a fabulous batch of soup, involving lots and lots of chopping. Chopping is therapy.
I make a no-bake cheesecake. Whisking is therapy.
I iron - I keep a large stash of hankies unironed just in case I don't have any shirts to tackle when the fug hits. Ironing is... sorry, you get it.
I reclaim the Tupperware out of my freezer, repacking into beautiful rows all the neat blocks of soup, beef stew, saag paneer and chilli that I've turned out with the help of a sinkful of hot water.
I go for a walk (and hope I don't get lost, but if I do, that's probably not a bad thing).
I do a crossword - the more challenging the better.
I love doing all of these things, and I'm good at them. They serve to remove me from the situation that put me into the fug, allow me to concentrate on something different, AND make me feel SMUG-A-F, because hey, I've succeeded at something.
Chopping! Whisking! Ironi----wait. I can't get behind the "i" word. :) There is something, though, about using chores to remind ourselves of that we should be thankful for. And it's through gratitude that we can overcome the "sighy fug." And perhaps be a little smug af in doing it!
Around 2016, I lost the ability to write. Or rather: I was capable of putting words out, but they were flat and lifeless. The reason was half a decade of dealing with a rapidly deteriorating family situation - my late Ma's dementia. Along the way, I had my ability to write in the way I wanted to & relied upon for my career (with curiosity, enthusiasm and a sense of adventure) completely scoured out of me.
My poor mother died in early 2018, and I spent the next year getting her affairs in order and selling the house - and then I took a year out, to try to learn to write again. But there was nothing in the tank. I had nothing to say.
So I'm really, really glad I did what I should have done, which was - read. I read widely. I read *everything*. I tried out fiction genres I'd never read, I read science writing on things I didn't even know existed, I threw myself in all directions.
What I think I was doing was getting out of my own head. That's the thing when you're greyed out and trying to kickstart yourself and nothings happening: you're relying on *yourself* to do it. It's an internal thing. It's like sitting in a room with yourself, and yelling at them "DO SOMETHING, COME ON, I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT, FEEL SOMETHING!"
But when you're looking outward, at the world, in a way where you lose your sense of self and just become a vessel and a conduit for all the interesting things you can learn that you never knew - well, that's a way for colour to creep back in. To let the world, in all its interestingness, repaint you, from the inside outwards...
(This process is also why I started a newsletter. Because it's not about me, it's about what I'm learning as I continue to look outward, discovering how amazing everything is when you take a moment to look closer at it. Self-therapy: check.)
So I think that's something that works: reading things that you would never, in other circumstances, throw yourself at. Reading "widely", as the term goes - but also trying to read things that you never knew, until now, existed in the way that they do. Embracing the utterly unfamiliar. (I guess it works for other media too - world cinema ahoy!)
Maybe, after doing that for a while in a way that fills your senses, you'll look back at yourself and see that things have been brightened up while you've gone?
"But when you're looking outward, at the world, in a way where you lose your sense of self and just become a vessel and a conduit for all the interesting things you can learn that you never knew - well, that's a way for colour to creep back in. To let the world, in all its interestingness, repaint you, from the inside outwards..."
Well, that may be the most beautiful words I've read in a while. And I agree--looking outward, getting outside of my own head, or (as I like to say) getting over myself is a sure way to recolour my world.
I definitely think reading helps a lot, especially when you branch out. I am avid reader. Not just books but articles, short stories, and all the amazing substacks I started following. It really fills the tank.
My mother passed in 2017. It had been a long ten years taking care of her, especially the last few. Her passing is what prompted my writing, I began to blog about six months after she passed and boy, did I have a lot to say. It's actually what my book Lessons of a Wayward Yogini is based on, that year and what I was learning about myself through my writing. Glad you were able to find your voice! Glad I was able to find my voice! 💟
I completely empathise, Mike, having been through a similar experience. I also found reading helped a lot, as did doing literature courses. Being on a course meant that for a couple of hours a week I wasn't dealing with a crisis, and getting nourishment from social interactions. It was my way of, as you put it, getting out of my own head.
Funnily enough, I was going to write about something about this on my own 'stack. Like Mike Sowden, we've been going through years of cr*p, though not quite in the same way. One of the things that kept me going even when I was exhausted and depleted was a very simple Sufi proverb: This too will pass. I know it sounds twee, but it's completely logical and, self-evident, and I think the fact that it has entered the Sufi 'toolbox', as it were, suggests to me that it is actually quite profound. I definitely found it helped a great deal.
For me it's usually nature. If I feel in a funk, I like to grab my camera and head out into nature and see what I can capture. I prefer to go alone to soak it all in and recalibrate.
Yoga, even a quick 10 minute session, helps me with anxiety. It calms me in a beautiful way.
Nature helps me, too, and I always feel better when I spend some time stretching and breathing intentionally. (I don't know if I can classify what I do as yoga, but I try!)
I'm completely with you on grabbing the camera and heading into nature therapy. This simple action was a godsend a couple of years ago when I stopped my business of 15 years, and just a few months before the dreaded covid lockdown blanketed the world...effectively cutting me off from anything social. The first 2 months were dark times...until I discovered how utterly fascinating it was to notice how abundant nature (primarily birds and beavers) was just outside my door.
The one thing that never fails to help me is a change of scenery. It isn’t a cure-all, but new inputs seem to force me to change my thought patterns. And it doesn’t have to be anything big--something as small as moving to a different room, sitting out in the backyard, or walking up the street can have a pretty dramatic impact. If I can get to the beach or somewhere green, all the better. I also think being around people gets me out of my own head. It’s counter intuitive, because when I’m feeling anxious I want to sink into myself. But putting myself in situations where I have to act normal eventually makes me feel more normal.
Years ago I had the toughest time with Sunday afternoons when I'd drop off my boys to their dad for three nights. My mood was quiet, blue, sad. I fought it with Sunday drives in the country--wherever, it didn't matter. I just needed a change of scenery!
Great question. And, one I have thought about often in multiple senses from mental and emotional health to the actual physical lack of color since my twin boys are color blind (or color deficient as it is often referred to these days since they can see a few colors). The 2 things that have had the biggest impact for me are art and nature. Art (art journaling and mixed media painting) helped me wade through grief after my mom died and has been a supportive practice ever since. Now, I share that experience with others as a creative guide and advocate. It's amazing how sometimes painting the color of our moods can help to allow the feelings to flow and shift.
I've never been one to paint much, but it is wonderfully relaxing when I do. I think I'd love trying mixed media painting.
My husband is also "color deficient" but I had not thought of the question in that regard. That makes me want to paint something very bright to bring color into his world!
It can be such a supportive practice, especially if we are able to focus more on the process and let the inner critic take a hike. I woke up this morning with a headache. Thankfully, I was able to spend some time making art (which isn't always the case), and I felt so much better after! I gathered some inspiration from nature and released any expectations. I made multiple small pieces with no pressure and ended up with a few that I love. More importantly, it was rejuvenating and nourishing to appreciate the color, flow, inspiration, time, and freedom! I hope you get to try some mixed media explorations and enjoy the colorful options for you and your husband.
Sometimes I forget about my own therapy that I started years ago...
I don't know what year this was - probably 1984-ish. I was living an irresponsible life in SF, California. I had a job, but I wasn't crazy about it...plus, I felt trapped in the chasing the American dream kind of life everyone expected from me. I felt the pressure build every day, and then...
And then November 1st happened. I woke up to begin the task of preparing for work. The sun was shining brilliantly, and I decided right then and there...I was fine - I was going to be okay - and I didn't need to go to work feeling so good. So, I called in well. Literally, I didn't lie...I simply said I would not be coming to work because I was feeling great, and the sun was shining. Of course, I knew I would be fired (which I was), but that didn't matter. I was going to spend the day at the beach...by myself...being grateful I was alive and feeling well. It was the most positive day I had ever experienced. And...I decided I would make November 1st my holiday to remind me that I was ok...no...that I am well and not just ok!
And yes...yesterday was a fabulous day celebrating my holiday - by myself!
Wow! Jack, that is a wonderful holiday, and how clever (or maybe not!) to call in "well"!
I have been so much happier since I stopped chasing the American dream. Sure, I still have my corporate job, but I actually love what I do (IT security analyst) and most days I do it from home in my stretchy pants and slip-on shoes with no makeup and messy hair. When I consider the woman I once was in business suits and pointed heels, it makes me cringe!
I'm so happy I had that day and continue the annual tradition...I think there was a kind of brilliance in my ignorant, naive self - maybe an angel slipped inside me and whispered the thought that I was just fine as long as I followed my heart - and on that day, my heart said, "right, it's the beach then..."
Nature is my go to. There's something about being outside that restores me. I love the sky and I adore water. And solitude is important for me when I'm working through something.
Solitude is definitely important for me, but I find too much of it detrimental when I am in a funk. Or maybe it must be intentional solitude, like a walk in a beautiful setting or reading a good book, or creating something with my hands.
I agree, intentional solitude is different than too much alone time. As much as I enjoy my solitude, it is equally important I can bounce my ideas and thoughts off my loved ones. The loop that plays over and over again usually can only be broken with the help of my loved ones injecting something new into my self-talk.
Running does it for me. If I'm in a funk I go for a run and by the time I am back the negative energy has been released and my mind usually becomes free from the thoughts that were weighing it down.
I think any exercise works - a long bike ride, a swim, a long walk... The sweat is like turning on the tap and letting all those negative emotions wash away...
I just did a guest lecture on time and stress management. I told the students that what works for others may not work for them and they needed to find what brought them back to the center, to peace. It’s knowledge for them and a reminder to me. In preparing for the lecture, I realized I’d learned a lot about how to combat anxiety and as a work in progress still had a lot to share. One of the other things I told the students was to think I self care as inclusive. What does it look like when you have no money? No outdoor spaces? Imagine many ways to care for yourself. Self care is a practice and not a brand or an expensive vacation.
One of the messages that has been rekindled for me is that of surrendering. I don’t always want to be strong or resilient. Sometimes I need to go home, conserve my energy, and do things that bring me comfort. But also, I need to let my emotions out more often instead of bottling them up. That could mean crying or lingering in sadness and trying to let it pass. The catharsis is often a good thing.
You are so right to raise awareness that self care does not = expense! And I like that idea of surrendering. I am a much calmer person when I surrender to whatever the day holds and move through it rather than fight with it.
When it gets really bad, I have a picture of Mt. Hood that I look at. It's not the best pic (I took it w/my phone at my cousin's wedding), but it does the trick. Standing on that mountain has always been a very spiritual & calming experience for me. I miss living in it's shadow.
And I think of this quote from Li Po: "We sit together, the mountain and I until only the mountain remains," which is just a fancy way of reminding myself that everything is ephemeral, and won't matter in the long run.
Oh man a sure-fire lift for me is a walk around a NYC neighborhood I’ve never seen before. Or one I haven’t been to in a while--they change so fast they’re pretty much new every ten years. Seeing all the people and street life and funny signs and odd shops and local color always lifts me up and gets me out of myself.
I've just returned from one of those very walks--except in our little town, not NYC! But isn't it wonderful to see new businesses, meet new people, and find facelifts to old corners?
Walking is good. I feel it relieves some pressure. You're thinking more about walking and your surroundings. I used to go outside a lot and take photos for my photography hobby. Actually, I used to go outside and do a lot of stuff. It's harder to do that now.
Right now, I bottle everything up and that's not good. But I don't have anyone to talk to about it. Someone mentioned on here about crying. I can attest to the fact that men do cry. I've done my share of it recently. People who are supposed to help you, should not say and do bad things to you.
I may have to write about it on my Substack. I'm been trying to figure out if I should or not. I don't want to drive people away for talking about serious issues. I mean I usually talk about funny stuff, so this would be totally different.
Ask and you shall receive. I'm working on it right now and hopefully will have it posted later today.
The short answer is, life happened. I live 20 minutes north of where I did all of my photography. As the caregiver to my Mother, it is harder to escape outside and do the stuff I loved to do. Plus living in a condo, you don't have many places to take photos. There are some woods behind the condo that separate the golf course from us. There's a unique tree that I want to photograph. We also have a preservation area but it is just trees smashed together. If you venture down there on the sidewalk, you'll see multiple squirrels and birds. The squirrels are so used to people, you can practically walk right on them and they don't move. I was 2 inches from one of them.
I can't even imagine how hard it must be being the caregiver for your mom. My mom did that a few years ago for her mother, and she really got run down. I finally convinced her to get someone to come in a couple of days a week just so she could have a break. She needed that!
Love this Holly. I have a list in my journal "my action plan" when I'm in pain emotional or physically. Nature and movement are on the top of the list. Even when I'm physically hurting walking and focusing on what I see, hear helps. I'm also a christian, and I believe in the power of pray. Lots of praying. Thank you so much, you are a blessing.
I agree with movement when you are in physical pain. I have suffered the last 18 months from nerve pain from a ruptured disc. Some days are better than others, but I always feel better when I make myself move! And I don't make as much time these days for exploring nature, so maybe this discussion has resolved me to do that with an unusually free weekend.
And prayer. Yes, prayer. That is the tether to everything I need--strength, peace, joy, patience, and more.
I'm so glad you are finding movement to help. It sounds like you are on your way and I will pray for your strength, courage, persistence, and patience. I hope you have some time this weekend to explore nature. :) It is healing for me.
In general I meditate daily which resets me. For blues I have a playlist of songs that make me smile, which I put on and dance round my kitchen to! For anxiety I use breath meditation in particular to concentrate on making my out breath longer than my in breath, which somehow allows me to regain my rationality. The latter can be as quick as 5 breath cycles or a specific meditation from somewhere like Insight Timer if there is time.
Such a great question, Holly! As a clinical counselor, I work with people on this a lot. There can be a lot of shame of embracing the parts of ourselves that want to add color, joy, or the childlike part of ourselves. For me, I tune into myself when I am feeling down, and try to understand what I actually need in the moment. On Saturday, I was feeling rather overwhelmed and unmotivated so I gave myself permission to watch a show (we're not "supposed" to watch TV as self-care as it can be a distraction, but sometimes we need to allow ourselves to do just that). Otherwise, the way I find a connection to myself and find "color" is through yoga on my back deck (even though it's freezing here) and I dance. Dancing is my number one source of pleasure!
When I'm in a sighy fug (my own expression to describe my own feelings) I turn to the lovely simple things that I succeed at:
I cook a fabulous batch of soup, involving lots and lots of chopping. Chopping is therapy.
I make a no-bake cheesecake. Whisking is therapy.
I iron - I keep a large stash of hankies unironed just in case I don't have any shirts to tackle when the fug hits. Ironing is... sorry, you get it.
I reclaim the Tupperware out of my freezer, repacking into beautiful rows all the neat blocks of soup, beef stew, saag paneer and chilli that I've turned out with the help of a sinkful of hot water.
I go for a walk (and hope I don't get lost, but if I do, that's probably not a bad thing).
I do a crossword - the more challenging the better.
I love doing all of these things, and I'm good at them. They serve to remove me from the situation that put me into the fug, allow me to concentrate on something different, AND make me feel SMUG-A-F, because hey, I've succeeded at something.
Chopping! Whisking! Ironi----wait. I can't get behind the "i" word. :) There is something, though, about using chores to remind ourselves of that we should be thankful for. And it's through gratitude that we can overcome the "sighy fug." And perhaps be a little smug af in doing it!
I've never ironed before Rebecca. I may have to take it up. 😀
Matthew, you don't know what you're missing, lol.
love this Rebecca! Cheers to the simple things that bring us joy, always turns it around. Thank you for sharing.
I also love to iron. Give me a stack of clothes and something to binge watch, I'm in heaven.
Around 2016, I lost the ability to write. Or rather: I was capable of putting words out, but they were flat and lifeless. The reason was half a decade of dealing with a rapidly deteriorating family situation - my late Ma's dementia. Along the way, I had my ability to write in the way I wanted to & relied upon for my career (with curiosity, enthusiasm and a sense of adventure) completely scoured out of me.
My poor mother died in early 2018, and I spent the next year getting her affairs in order and selling the house - and then I took a year out, to try to learn to write again. But there was nothing in the tank. I had nothing to say.
So I'm really, really glad I did what I should have done, which was - read. I read widely. I read *everything*. I tried out fiction genres I'd never read, I read science writing on things I didn't even know existed, I threw myself in all directions.
What I think I was doing was getting out of my own head. That's the thing when you're greyed out and trying to kickstart yourself and nothings happening: you're relying on *yourself* to do it. It's an internal thing. It's like sitting in a room with yourself, and yelling at them "DO SOMETHING, COME ON, I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT, FEEL SOMETHING!"
But when you're looking outward, at the world, in a way where you lose your sense of self and just become a vessel and a conduit for all the interesting things you can learn that you never knew - well, that's a way for colour to creep back in. To let the world, in all its interestingness, repaint you, from the inside outwards...
(This process is also why I started a newsletter. Because it's not about me, it's about what I'm learning as I continue to look outward, discovering how amazing everything is when you take a moment to look closer at it. Self-therapy: check.)
So I think that's something that works: reading things that you would never, in other circumstances, throw yourself at. Reading "widely", as the term goes - but also trying to read things that you never knew, until now, existed in the way that they do. Embracing the utterly unfamiliar. (I guess it works for other media too - world cinema ahoy!)
Maybe, after doing that for a while in a way that fills your senses, you'll look back at yourself and see that things have been brightened up while you've gone?
#WorthATry
"But when you're looking outward, at the world, in a way where you lose your sense of self and just become a vessel and a conduit for all the interesting things you can learn that you never knew - well, that's a way for colour to creep back in. To let the world, in all its interestingness, repaint you, from the inside outwards..."
Well, that may be the most beautiful words I've read in a while. And I agree--looking outward, getting outside of my own head, or (as I like to say) getting over myself is a sure way to recolour my world.
I definitely think reading helps a lot, especially when you branch out. I am avid reader. Not just books but articles, short stories, and all the amazing substacks I started following. It really fills the tank.
"Fills the tank": what a great expression. Love your photos, Susi.
My mother passed in 2017. It had been a long ten years taking care of her, especially the last few. Her passing is what prompted my writing, I began to blog about six months after she passed and boy, did I have a lot to say. It's actually what my book Lessons of a Wayward Yogini is based on, that year and what I was learning about myself through my writing. Glad you were able to find your voice! Glad I was able to find my voice! 💟
I completely empathise, Mike, having been through a similar experience. I also found reading helped a lot, as did doing literature courses. Being on a course meant that for a couple of hours a week I wasn't dealing with a crisis, and getting nourishment from social interactions. It was my way of, as you put it, getting out of my own head.
Funnily enough, I was going to write about something about this on my own 'stack. Like Mike Sowden, we've been going through years of cr*p, though not quite in the same way. One of the things that kept me going even when I was exhausted and depleted was a very simple Sufi proverb: This too will pass. I know it sounds twee, but it's completely logical and, self-evident, and I think the fact that it has entered the Sufi 'toolbox', as it were, suggests to me that it is actually quite profound. I definitely found it helped a great deal.
Mantras are certainly helpful, and I think "This too will pass" is a wonderful one.
One of the buildings by my house has that phrase painted as a mural on it. I love seeing it there.
For me it's usually nature. If I feel in a funk, I like to grab my camera and head out into nature and see what I can capture. I prefer to go alone to soak it all in and recalibrate.
Yoga, even a quick 10 minute session, helps me with anxiety. It calms me in a beautiful way.
Nature helps me, too, and I always feel better when I spend some time stretching and breathing intentionally. (I don't know if I can classify what I do as yoga, but I try!)
Lol. Same. I try and I love it and I guess that’s what matters. :)
I'm completely with you on grabbing the camera and heading into nature therapy. This simple action was a godsend a couple of years ago when I stopped my business of 15 years, and just a few months before the dreaded covid lockdown blanketed the world...effectively cutting me off from anything social. The first 2 months were dark times...until I discovered how utterly fascinating it was to notice how abundant nature (primarily birds and beavers) was just outside my door.
The one thing that never fails to help me is a change of scenery. It isn’t a cure-all, but new inputs seem to force me to change my thought patterns. And it doesn’t have to be anything big--something as small as moving to a different room, sitting out in the backyard, or walking up the street can have a pretty dramatic impact. If I can get to the beach or somewhere green, all the better. I also think being around people gets me out of my own head. It’s counter intuitive, because when I’m feeling anxious I want to sink into myself. But putting myself in situations where I have to act normal eventually makes me feel more normal.
Fake it til you make it, I guess!
Years ago I had the toughest time with Sunday afternoons when I'd drop off my boys to their dad for three nights. My mood was quiet, blue, sad. I fought it with Sunday drives in the country--wherever, it didn't matter. I just needed a change of scenery!
Great question. And, one I have thought about often in multiple senses from mental and emotional health to the actual physical lack of color since my twin boys are color blind (or color deficient as it is often referred to these days since they can see a few colors). The 2 things that have had the biggest impact for me are art and nature. Art (art journaling and mixed media painting) helped me wade through grief after my mom died and has been a supportive practice ever since. Now, I share that experience with others as a creative guide and advocate. It's amazing how sometimes painting the color of our moods can help to allow the feelings to flow and shift.
I've never been one to paint much, but it is wonderfully relaxing when I do. I think I'd love trying mixed media painting.
My husband is also "color deficient" but I had not thought of the question in that regard. That makes me want to paint something very bright to bring color into his world!
It can be such a supportive practice, especially if we are able to focus more on the process and let the inner critic take a hike. I woke up this morning with a headache. Thankfully, I was able to spend some time making art (which isn't always the case), and I felt so much better after! I gathered some inspiration from nature and released any expectations. I made multiple small pieces with no pressure and ended up with a few that I love. More importantly, it was rejuvenating and nourishing to appreciate the color, flow, inspiration, time, and freedom! I hope you get to try some mixed media explorations and enjoy the colorful options for you and your husband.
Sometimes I forget about my own therapy that I started years ago...
I don't know what year this was - probably 1984-ish. I was living an irresponsible life in SF, California. I had a job, but I wasn't crazy about it...plus, I felt trapped in the chasing the American dream kind of life everyone expected from me. I felt the pressure build every day, and then...
And then November 1st happened. I woke up to begin the task of preparing for work. The sun was shining brilliantly, and I decided right then and there...I was fine - I was going to be okay - and I didn't need to go to work feeling so good. So, I called in well. Literally, I didn't lie...I simply said I would not be coming to work because I was feeling great, and the sun was shining. Of course, I knew I would be fired (which I was), but that didn't matter. I was going to spend the day at the beach...by myself...being grateful I was alive and feeling well. It was the most positive day I had ever experienced. And...I decided I would make November 1st my holiday to remind me that I was ok...no...that I am well and not just ok!
And yes...yesterday was a fabulous day celebrating my holiday - by myself!
Wow! Jack, that is a wonderful holiday, and how clever (or maybe not!) to call in "well"!
I have been so much happier since I stopped chasing the American dream. Sure, I still have my corporate job, but I actually love what I do (IT security analyst) and most days I do it from home in my stretchy pants and slip-on shoes with no makeup and messy hair. When I consider the woman I once was in business suits and pointed heels, it makes me cringe!
I feel a well day coming on...
I'm so happy I had that day and continue the annual tradition...I think there was a kind of brilliance in my ignorant, naive self - maybe an angel slipped inside me and whispered the thought that I was just fine as long as I followed my heart - and on that day, my heart said, "right, it's the beach then..."
I love this, Jack! 😃 Absolutely brilliant!
That’s amazing!
Nature is my go to. There's something about being outside that restores me. I love the sky and I adore water. And solitude is important for me when I'm working through something.
Solitude is definitely important for me, but I find too much of it detrimental when I am in a funk. Or maybe it must be intentional solitude, like a walk in a beautiful setting or reading a good book, or creating something with my hands.
I agree, intentional solitude is different than too much alone time. As much as I enjoy my solitude, it is equally important I can bounce my ideas and thoughts off my loved ones. The loop that plays over and over again usually can only be broken with the help of my loved ones injecting something new into my self-talk.
Running does it for me. If I'm in a funk I go for a run and by the time I am back the negative energy has been released and my mind usually becomes free from the thoughts that were weighing it down.
I sometimes wish I were a runner--it seems so therapeutic!
I think any exercise works - a long bike ride, a swim, a long walk... The sweat is like turning on the tap and letting all those negative emotions wash away...
I agree—Open up the medicine cabinet of happy hormones. :)
Holly, It really is for me too. Never too late to start. :)
I am slowly increasing my speed on the treadmill as I force myself to move--perhaps I'll make it to a running speed one day if my knees allow it! :)
I'm definitely a fan of running as therapy. Even if you're not ready to run, a fast walk outside does the trick.
that's amazing! Keep going at your pace. :)
Yes to running! I'm with ya Rizwan. I believe running saved me , a gift from God.
I just did a guest lecture on time and stress management. I told the students that what works for others may not work for them and they needed to find what brought them back to the center, to peace. It’s knowledge for them and a reminder to me. In preparing for the lecture, I realized I’d learned a lot about how to combat anxiety and as a work in progress still had a lot to share. One of the other things I told the students was to think I self care as inclusive. What does it look like when you have no money? No outdoor spaces? Imagine many ways to care for yourself. Self care is a practice and not a brand or an expensive vacation.
One of the messages that has been rekindled for me is that of surrendering. I don’t always want to be strong or resilient. Sometimes I need to go home, conserve my energy, and do things that bring me comfort. But also, I need to let my emotions out more often instead of bottling them up. That could mean crying or lingering in sadness and trying to let it pass. The catharsis is often a good thing.
You are so right to raise awareness that self care does not = expense! And I like that idea of surrendering. I am a much calmer person when I surrender to whatever the day holds and move through it rather than fight with it.
When it gets really bad, I have a picture of Mt. Hood that I look at. It's not the best pic (I took it w/my phone at my cousin's wedding), but it does the trick. Standing on that mountain has always been a very spiritual & calming experience for me. I miss living in it's shadow.
And I think of this quote from Li Po: "We sit together, the mountain and I until only the mountain remains," which is just a fancy way of reminding myself that everything is ephemeral, and won't matter in the long run.
I have a couple of spots that feel that way for me. Is it weird that one is an old cemetery?
Not to me! in my book, any spot is "good" if it brings you comfort.
Oh man a sure-fire lift for me is a walk around a NYC neighborhood I’ve never seen before. Or one I haven’t been to in a while--they change so fast they’re pretty much new every ten years. Seeing all the people and street life and funny signs and odd shops and local color always lifts me up and gets me out of myself.
I've just returned from one of those very walks--except in our little town, not NYC! But isn't it wonderful to see new businesses, meet new people, and find facelifts to old corners?
Walking is good. I feel it relieves some pressure. You're thinking more about walking and your surroundings. I used to go outside a lot and take photos for my photography hobby. Actually, I used to go outside and do a lot of stuff. It's harder to do that now.
Right now, I bottle everything up and that's not good. But I don't have anyone to talk to about it. Someone mentioned on here about crying. I can attest to the fact that men do cry. I've done my share of it recently. People who are supposed to help you, should not say and do bad things to you.
I may have to write about it on my Substack. I'm been trying to figure out if I should or not. I don't want to drive people away for talking about serious issues. I mean I usually talk about funny stuff, so this would be totally different.
What happened to that photography hobby, Matt? How about a post of the great outdoors in your corner of the world?
Ask and you shall receive. I'm working on it right now and hopefully will have it posted later today.
The short answer is, life happened. I live 20 minutes north of where I did all of my photography. As the caregiver to my Mother, it is harder to escape outside and do the stuff I loved to do. Plus living in a condo, you don't have many places to take photos. There are some woods behind the condo that separate the golf course from us. There's a unique tree that I want to photograph. We also have a preservation area but it is just trees smashed together. If you venture down there on the sidewalk, you'll see multiple squirrels and birds. The squirrels are so used to people, you can practically walk right on them and they don't move. I was 2 inches from one of them.
I'm looking forward to that, Matt!
I can't even imagine how hard it must be being the caregiver for your mom. My mom did that a few years ago for her mother, and she really got run down. I finally convinced her to get someone to come in a couple of days a week just so she could have a break. She needed that!
Love this Holly. I have a list in my journal "my action plan" when I'm in pain emotional or physically. Nature and movement are on the top of the list. Even when I'm physically hurting walking and focusing on what I see, hear helps. I'm also a christian, and I believe in the power of pray. Lots of praying. Thank you so much, you are a blessing.
I agree with movement when you are in physical pain. I have suffered the last 18 months from nerve pain from a ruptured disc. Some days are better than others, but I always feel better when I make myself move! And I don't make as much time these days for exploring nature, so maybe this discussion has resolved me to do that with an unusually free weekend.
And prayer. Yes, prayer. That is the tether to everything I need--strength, peace, joy, patience, and more.
I'm so glad you are finding movement to help. It sounds like you are on your way and I will pray for your strength, courage, persistence, and patience. I hope you have some time this weekend to explore nature. :) It is healing for me.
In general I meditate daily which resets me. For blues I have a playlist of songs that make me smile, which I put on and dance round my kitchen to! For anxiety I use breath meditation in particular to concentrate on making my out breath longer than my in breath, which somehow allows me to regain my rationality. The latter can be as quick as 5 breath cycles or a specific meditation from somewhere like Insight Timer if there is time.
Thanks for sharing, Amanda. I’ll have to check out that app! I had heard of Headspace, but Insight Timer is new to me.
Such a great question, Holly! As a clinical counselor, I work with people on this a lot. There can be a lot of shame of embracing the parts of ourselves that want to add color, joy, or the childlike part of ourselves. For me, I tune into myself when I am feeling down, and try to understand what I actually need in the moment. On Saturday, I was feeling rather overwhelmed and unmotivated so I gave myself permission to watch a show (we're not "supposed" to watch TV as self-care as it can be a distraction, but sometimes we need to allow ourselves to do just that). Otherwise, the way I find a connection to myself and find "color" is through yoga on my back deck (even though it's freezing here) and I dance. Dancing is my number one source of pleasure!
I rarely watch TV--only when I’m on the treadmill--but this weekend I spent a whole morning watching nonsense TV. Loved it!