Category: Self-help Techniques

Communicating Amidst the Virtual Noise

Away from the internet – A happy sunshine drawn by my friend’s daughter and delivered by hand with a note saying to put it up in my window. It even came laminated so that I could anti-bac it!

At the start of lockdown, I felt unexpectedly excited as my world was opening up and new possibilities were coming my way. Things that I’m often unable to access physically were made available online. People who are usually busy spending their days out and about were suddenly at home, their days becoming closer to mine.

But I didn’t anticipate how busy the online world would become and how overwhelmed I would feel. I realised many of us were feeling the same. My sister had 125 unread messages in just one WhatsApp group. My Mum asked if turning her phone to silent would stop it constantly pinging? My book club decided not to go virtual during this time as we had originally planned, or perhaps more accurately assumed, as one by one we admitted it all felt too much and that we would rather curl up quietly with a book and have time to turn inward and reflect.

Of course there’s a natural and very human pull to be connected, especially when we’re missing family and friends and living through such uncertain, and for some completely devastating, times. We want to reach out to others. We want to feel heard. We want to check in with loved ones near and far. But when does necessary and meaningful communication slip to the tendency to use social media on autopilot, distracting ourselves from our feelings and not necessarily meeting our needs? Are we really connecting when we use all these online platforms? For me, I know it’s slipped from something positive and helpful to something negative and unhelpful when I start to notice I’m feeling disconnected – the very opposite of what I’m hoping for. Pushed too much, my nervous system gets overloaded and it adversely affects my FND. Perhaps I’m more sensitive to this than many, but I would guess it’s a continuum that affects everyone in some way.

It’s new territory for us all, as though none of us are quite sure what the social etiquette is as we try to adjust to this different way of living. I took a step back and checked in with my pacing, making a few changes and redefining some boundaries. I spoke to my Mum and sister and we set a few guidelines as to how we were going to communicate to ensure all our needs were met without becoming overwhelmed in the process. It really was that simple. 

So far it’s working well. I feel a greater sense of balance between reaching out and turning inwards. I feel less frazzled and more able to support myself and others during this time. I have also experienced some truly meaningful connections online. I have been sitting in virtual meditation halls alongside as many as 150 people. I don’t know names or individual stories, but sharing our practice in this way, knowing that we are all in this together, that ultimately we all want to be safe and well, gives rise to a deep and comforting sense of connection. Having just become part of the Breathworks Associate Online Teaching Team, I feel more determined than ever to use the internet wisely to reach out to others whilst continuing to support myself.

It’s an interesting process to observe; noticing with curiosity how we are all communicating, how we are using the amazing online resources available to us, and contemplating when they are of value and when they are not. Like so many things, I think it comes down to awareness, and using that awareness to respond to an ever-changing situation to help create a semblance of balance and feelings of wellbeing. What works today might look completely different tomorrow or next week.

You can read more about how I bring mindfulness to my use of the internet in a post I wrote three years ago – Intentional Internet.

My Burrow

‘Bedtime Stories’ by Jessica Boehman

I had put aside preparations for my Winter meditation retreat and I was curled up on my sofa, Bella purring beside me, both of us nestled in the warmth of my heated blanket. You never know how a retreat week will unfold, but in that moment my intentions felt so clear. I needed nurturing, warmth, cosiness and space. I needed to wrap myself up in care and compassion. I needed to gently hold my experiences, both pleasurable and painful, whilst allowing the retreat space and community to gently hold me. I could pull back a little; rest, restore, let things settle and fill myself up with compassion and courage, topping up my levels of resilience.

I often find images as powerful as words. They can capture a string of intentions in one single frame. I found a beautiful illustration that caught just what I needed. Looking at ‘Bedtime Stories’ by Jessica Boehman, I wasn’t just reminded of my intentions, I was feeling them. The girl reading, a little companion by her side. The bear and fox curled up in sleepy contentment. Soft, glowing light and warmth radiating within each burrow; vibrant, even within the peaceful, restful states. Even the night sky above has a kindness to it. Little stars of light and hope. Soft, wintery branches. Each glance brought to life the feelings of nurturing, warmth, cosiness and space. An opening of my body. A warming of my heart. A softening of my mind and a sigh of relief to have a peaceful inner space to rest in.

The image and feelings it evoked became a theme for my retreat week. During a loving kindness practice, I found myself imagining I was in the cosy cocoon of the tree roots, gradually welcoming others in one by one, making sure they were warm and comfortable and wrapping us all up in love and care. We sat around a fire, bright and glowing. We curled up on beanbags, wrapped up in soft blankets. We drank hot chocolate, sweet and comforting.

It was a lazy retreat, although I soon realised I was using the word lazy when I really meant letting go. Sleepy meditations. Cosy layers. Naps. Feeling no need to fill every space with activity. My Burrow has continued to be a place of refuge. Unlike the unhelpful avoidance and shutting down that I have swung towards in the past, it has given me a comforting place of respite from where I can continue to meet each moment with gentle, compassionate acceptance.

With thanks to Jessica at Hans My Hedgehog for her beautiful artwork and her permission to share.

Living With Mindfulness

“Mindfulness has saved her,” Mum told a friend who was wondering how I was possibly coping with another health crisis and emergency hospital admission. I often say myself, “my mindfulness practice got me through.” The last few weeks have been no exception.

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Letting Go, Letting In

‘November again. It’s more like winter than autumn. That’s not mist. It’s fog.

The sycamore seeds hit the glass in the wind like – no, not like anything else, like sycamore seeds hitting window glass.

There’s been a couple of windy nights. The leaves are stuck to the ground with the wet. The ones on the paving are yellow and rotting, wanwood, leafmeal. One is so stuck that when it eventually peels away, its leafshape left behind, shadow of a leaf, will last on the pavement till next spring. 

The furniture in the garden is rusting. They’ve forgotten to put it away for the winter.

The trees are revealing their structures. There’s the catch of fire in the air. All the souls are out marauding. But there are roses, there are still roses. In the damp and the cold, on bush that looks done, there’s a wide-open rose, still.

Look at the colour of it.’

‘Autumn’ by Ali Smith

Autumn. It’s a bittersweet time. The light fades, the leaves fall, and yet we’re dazzled by golden colours and excited by seasonal festivities. The hedges outside the window are almost bare, but there are fresh green shoots of bulbs eagerly waiting for Spring. And yes, there’s a wide-open rose, still.

Just like nature, our brains have to let go in order to let in. Neuroplasticity isn’t only about developing and strengthening new neural pathways, but also clearing old ones. This is important if we’re to move forward in our lives, rather than being stuck in a never ending cycle of the same.Read More

Riding the Waves – Mindfulness for Stress

“I’m stressed.” “It’s stressful.” We say and hear it all the time, but what exactly is stress? What if it’s not the challenging experience or how we’re feeling, but the gap between the two where we can either habitually react or consciously respond?

On my recent training retreat we focused on delivering Mindfulness for Stress, an eight week course by Breathworks that is tailored towards helping people manage the challenges of daily life. There was an irony that almost immediately after immersing myself in the course I felt pretty stressed myself and yes, I’m sure I said “I’m stressed” and “it’s stressful” countless times. But I could also recognise that my response, or rather my reaction, was fuelling a lot of how I was feeling and that it was within my control to shift back to a more balanced state. Not that it was easy, but knowing that it was even possible was hugely empowering.

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A Little Update

It’s been a little while since I last posted. I have been enjoying a period of greater stability in my health after what was a particularly challenging Autumn and Winter, and I’ve been focusing on, and thoroughly enjoying, my mindfulness teacher training.

I’ve started running a ‘practice practice’ Mindfulness for Health course (a trial run of the official practice course I will deliver as the final part of my training ahead of applying for accreditation). It’s an absolute pleasure to be sharing what I’ve learnt with others and an honour to be able to help facilitate people in making meaningful changes in their lives. I hope it’s just a taste of what is to come. I’ve been working on the Mindful Movement component of training and Looking ahead to the advanced training retreat I’ll be going on this summer. It really is all beginning to come together.

I’d like to share this little video I made for Breathworks with you, where I talk about my experience of the Mindfulness for Health course, how it complements my FND management and how it has ultimately given me a better way to live my life.

Becoming My Own Therapist – FND Awareness Day 2018

Voices for FND. Which voice do I want to be heard? The voice of frustration that we have to fight for diagnosis and treatment? The voice of sorrow that so many suffer so greatly from this condition? Or the voice of hope that it’s possible to live a good life even amongst these challenges? Read More

The Art of Pacing

The timer goes off and my pen goes down. I breathe fully, checking for any resistance and tension, and allowing my breath to soothe my body as it sinks into my wheelchair. I prepare for a sit to stand, gently shifting from side to side before I move my body forward and up. I’m in the kitchen, making a cup of tea, tidying a few things away. The timer goes off and I breathe right down to my feet, standing tall whilst grounded and strong. I settle onto the sofa, a cup of tea, Bertie and Bella curled beside me, a cosy blanket and hot water bottle. I allow my body to rest back in the cushions. I reach for my knitting and I breathe.

My pacing hasn’t always been so finely tuned or infused with such care. I used to think I was pacing when in fact all I was doing was blocking out rest time before and after activities I knew would leave me feeling broken. In my diary, I was accounting for ‘boom and bust’, the medical term for the common pattern of overactivity when you feel a bit better and under activity when you feel a bit worse, but I wasn’t pacing in a way that brought stability to my symptoms or rhythm to my day. This led to real extremes; I could be up on stage performing one week and lying in a hospital bed the next.Read More

A Word of Intention

Sometimes a single word can be such a powerful compass. It can give direction when you’re feeling lost and it can remind you of your aspirations, values and strengths, helping you to regain your footing and find your way.Read More

Reconnecting

Reconnecting with words. It feels good to be writing. My absence from the blog was unplanned; my recovery from labyrinthitis, supported so well by my week of self-care, was quickly followed by a glandular fever type infection, then a cold, which re-triggered the labyrinthitis. There was no respite, no opportunity to reconnect, as the ‘viral flare’, as my doctors are calling it, became increasingly multilayered and complex, making it even more challenging than usual to manage my FND. Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. I returned to basics again and again, emptying my toolbox of symptom-management techniques, as my body tried to heal and I worked to regain and maintain lost strength and functioning. Read More