Restival reflections
Last weekend saw around 30 of us gathering in community for our Restival retreat. What a weekend of pure bliss. With seven teachers and so many different experiences and practices to choose from, it was profoundly peaceful, even for the teachers. I came back feeling a light in my soul that I had lost months ago.
The thing that makes our time together so special isn’t just the practices we share – but also the stories we tell as a community. All of them help us process, understand and sometimes move forward with a new perspective on this crazy journey through life and health.
Chasing control
I was sharing with the group how I had become completely lost in the stresses of buying a home. English property law seems to have been developed in the days of wattle and daub homes and doesn’t appear to have moved on much since! Rather foolishly, I made myself semi ‘homeless’ back in March and have been spare-room surfing ever since whilst trying to buy my next home.
It has brought our very human need for a sense of control fully into my line of sight…I’ve had none at all and it’s driven me to despair.
So my default has been to try incredibly hard to feel like I had some influence… some impact… some sense of control. The thing that has broken me both physically and mentally isn’t actually the process – the process is simply the process.
It’s been my response to the process.
It’s almost as though (metaphor incoming!) I’d picked up an innocent crocodile and started wrestling with it. A ferocious, one-sided fight… because the crocodile, it turns out, doesn’t really exist. It exists only within my own nervous system.
At some point I realised I’d become lost in emailing, chasing, using AI to research legal processes, sending messages and acting as the in-between for everyone involved. None of it pushed the process along any faster because, as it turns out, this process simply doesn’t like to be rushed.
My ‘hurry up’ and ‘try harder’ drivers had been fully activated.
When recovery becomes the wrestle…
It dawned on me that this is exactly what can happen when we’ve been unwell for a long time.
“I’m doing everything I can and I still don’t see any change.”
It can look like taking 35 supplements, five prescription medications, monitoring your stats on a spreadsheet, researching endlessly, doing four recovery programmes, going from doctor to doctor without answers, asking in multiple support groups, searching for new protocols and trying really, really hard to do everything it takes to move the needle.
Over the years of working with people on their health journeys, I think one thing I’ve noticed is that, for some, the trying so hard can actually become part of the problem.
It’s such an incredibly human thing to do – to throw our whole selves at something that matters. Especially something so important.
But in the very act of that striving, our nervous systems can remain in a state of high alert – much like it would if we really were wrestling a crocodile.
Without realising it, we may be creating the very opposite internal state to the one that healing requires.
Safety.
Putting the crocodile down!
So lately I’ve been practising putting the crocodile down…
It’s not easy because, wow, I really do seem to want to wrestle with it. But whenever I notice the incredible tension my house-buying behaviour creates in my body, I stop and deliberately let go.
I’ve noticed that I feel mentally and physically more grounded. I’m smiling more. I’m less exhausted.
It’s actually been quite nice!
A question to reflect on ❤️
It makes me wonder…
What crocodiles might you be wrestling at the moment?
Perhaps the wrestle is serving you which is also possible. But perhaps it’s something you might gently consider putting down, even just for a while to catch your breath.
Recovery burnout is not uncommon – so this week, keep an eye on your crocodiles.
They might really just want to lie in the sun! ☀️
Ps. The Flamingo was brought out of the cupboard to celebrate Elaine in Chichesters birthday at Restival – she even put the costume on herself and we all had a celebratory dance. Gorgeous.