I broke myself last week. It is so annoying when this happens. You may have noticed a two week gap between Dazzles (and you may have not), because last Sunday, at my usual Substack-writing time, I was instead lying on the floor in my living room, stretching my shins in pain, snot running down my face, after forcing myself out to run 16 miles with a head cold. Ten kilometres in, it began to rain. Biblically. It didn’t stop for the remainder of the run (another 16k). Every 100 metres or so, I thought about pulling the plug and going home. Every 110 metres or so, I remembered that I start my crazy running challenge in less than a month (Running the Brighton Marathon, then from Brighton to London, and then the London Marathon) and giving up is no longer an option in the crazy-arse-ultra plan I am following. So on I went, ignoring the pleas of my body in favour of the taunts of my ego: “If you give up, you’re a failure”; “if you don’t do this, you won’t be able to do the challenge"; “you’re a total loser'“ and so on and so forth until I found myself in a heap on the floor at home, feeling completely broken.
I went to bed shivering. My body ached, from running, but also, I suspected, from fighting off a virus of some sort. “I will write the Dazzle tomorrow,” I thought, slipping into bed, but tomorrow came and I was well and truly crocked. I limped to the toilet, and looked in the mirror. An extra from 28 Days Later stared back at me. I went back to bed. I texted a wise friend I was supposed to be meeting, to cancel.
“Sometimes,” she replied, “ the real challenge is to be still.”
Oh, how right she is! And wouldn’t you say that actually, most of the time the challenge is to be still, rather than just sometimes? I am an alcoholic but I am also a workaholic and a validation-a-holic and the thought of not having lots on fills me with fear because what if that means I no longer exist? The challenge, I realise, is not just to be still… but to realise that often, the only way you can ever move forward in any meaningful way is by grinding to a halt and gathering yourself. By stopping and sitting and assessing. So that is what I have spent the last week doing. That and smothering various bits of myself in Vicks Vaporub/Deep Heat (it’s vital not to get the two mixed up, I have discovered).
Anyway, this is your permission to be still. To slow the hell down and switch off your phone and take time out and allow yourself a moment to work out what to do next. “Nothing,” said my wise friend when I told her this. “Next, you should do nothing. And that’s an order.” A powerful one, at that.
Bryony xx
PTSD UK recommend what are called Pause and Be days. I find it really liberating.
I thought about you this morning, Bryony, after seeing your update. Couple of observations which I’ll try and articulate without too much verbosity 😇
I was lucky enough to see you on the book tour and what struck me was how much you cared about your audience. You were so accessible and I felt sure you’d go home thinking about all the stories shared, and all the follow up messages on Substack or Insta and probably make yourself unwell in trying to acknowledge everyone. But you’ve served us, just by writing the book and by being you.
Secondly, Gwyneth P has endorsed this new app “moments in space” and it’s pretty good. Yesterday I listened to a session called “dropping the doing” about our relentless mental taskmaster: “why are you sitting there, you need to do this and this and this” - these things largely relating to an unpromised future.
And yes, the school uniform will have to be attended to but do we need to worry about work related beefs, dream job etc? This tied in nicely with a book I read called Keep Moving, by Maggie Smith.
So I was totally verbose as I knew I would be but basically, be kind to yourself which means switching off, and be present. And drop the do.