Staying soft

Lily's writing about softness again, and bears crap in the woods (but hopefully not too near the PCT)

As you might remember, I (like almost everyone else, it seems) have had Covid again lately. This bout with it wasn’t as bad as my previous two times - it felt almost like I skipped forward to day 5 or 6 of the illness, compared to the timelines I’d had before.

So the next week, I went straight back to living at full-force. Trying to catch up with what I’d missed in almost a week off work (which came when I’d only just caught up from my holiday at the end of June!) and then going down to the gym or cycling up to the swimming pool every evening, finding the feeling of moving my body again to be intoxicating after being stuck inside. Until Thursday, when I found myself back cancelling an evening walk and back in bed by 6pm. 

Image from a Cleveland Clinic article about Covid insomnia - ironically not a problem I’ve had this time around

“If you don’t take a break, your body will take one for you.”

Yeah, point made, body, thank you. 

So I’ve lent back into what I know works for me. Comforting cereal breakfasts and yoghurt snacks, plenty of bananas. Quiet evenings with my Kindle and mugs of tea, gentle walks for fresh air instead of punishing runs. Prioritising my work to-do lists ruthlessly, remembering that ‘brain capacity’ and ‘the time between 9am and 5pm’ aren’t a perfect match.

kaylakleinman

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There’s a lot to be said - and it would take an investigative writer like

Anne Helen Petersen

to do it, I think - about the fact that we - especially women, especially neurodivergent people - break ourselves trying to fit into the way that the world expects us to live. Why is it on us to work ourselves into exhaustion, or to medicate ourselves to be able to keep up? Why are we told we have to be tougher, instead of the world being softer?

I loved this piece about softness from Nathalie Olah in the Guardian, and I particularly wanted to share this paragraph with you:

I found myself more drawn to that which was luscious and warm: soft bedlinen and cushions, sheepskin soles, lamps that only permit warm, dim light. I am not someone who has ever needed to assert my femininity, but in anticipating the judgments of other people, I realised the idea of these warm, comforting things being too girlie or feminine (terms that have always been to some extent pejorative), was probably a reflection of society’s emphasis on productivity.

So what I’m saying here is this: I intend to live more softly from here on out. I’m not a doctor, lives aren’t at stake when I make decisions every day. If I take a longer-term view then I suppose they might be - my main job is in climate policy and I’m about to go back to uni to study for a Master’s in environmental law. I was doing some reading lately about ‘activist burnout’ and wellbeing at work and came across the concept of ‘personal sustainability.’ This isn’t about taking your re-usable cup to the coffee shop, but instead about maintaining a life balance that allows you to keep going for longer overall.

I’ve been watching lots of ‘through-hiking’ content recently, seeing long-distance walkers hiking trails that go for hundreds of miles. One thing that’s struck me is how much care they all take of themselves, so that they can - quite literally - go the distance.

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The Pacific Crest Trail (yes, the one from Wild) is over 2500 miles long. You can’t sprint that - most hikers cover about 20 miles (32km) per day. Yes, that’s a hell of a long way to cover, especially day after day after day, but it’s not like one of those ultramarathon trial races. It just wouldn’t be possible to do it like that.

Image from Girl Gotta Hike

Life is more like the PCT than it is like a 100-metre sprint, no matter what the ‘productivity gurus’ might say (I’m looking at you, ‘scrum’ methodology). So let’s fuel, and rest, and take time to walk in the sun.

A disclaimer: It’s important to me to note here that ‘self care’ isn’t the be-all and end-all. As well as forcefully reminding myself that laziness does not exist (thanks Dr Price) and that resting is not failing, I’ve scheduled a blood test to see how my thyroid is doing and see if I need a tweak to my hypothyroid medication. I feel very lucky to have the NHS to rely on.

Speak soon,

Lily

Missed Friday’s recommendations post?