Yesterday, I spent some time meditating and reflecting over the last couple of years of my life. It was brought on by a conscious decision to slow down my pace as the stresses mount on me towards the end of the semester causing a steady decline in my health. Though I sometimes feel guilty or silly for slowing down, I keep telling myself that it is not a crime to put your health before your work, and take a weekend off to recharge. In the long run, I think that will be the key to my finding some level of normalcy in my life. And looking back, I think it already has!
Featured image: Finding Light (9X12, oil on canvas). I could not think of a more appropriate painting that could possibly describe the journey that I write about below.
A year or so ago, when I hadn’t learned to slow down yet, I was super-miserable all the time. Every day I would force myself to rise even though I felt thoroughly unrefreshed. I ignored the stiffness in my body that screamed in pain when I overruled its need for rest and forced it into some clothes and shoes as I made my way to work. Despite the gallons of coffee, every afternoon, I was close to passing out from exhaustion. I would have to crawl my way home before I collapsed to save myself the indignity of passing out at work (which has also happened before). I was on a non-stop roller-coaster ride where I ignored my body to accomplish more things, but then I would hit a new low and not be able to rise from bed for the next few days. I worked my ass off the days I was at work and then wasn’t able to work at all for several days after. I needed at least one sick day every week on average, especially after the days I taught two classes back-to-back, 2-3 hours each. Several times, I thought of quitting everything, wondering if anything was worth it anymore.
Then at one point, I learned better. I don’t know what pushed me over the edge – maybe it was a missed opportunity to attend a conference because I couldn’t get up from bed that day – but I decided to quit that lifestyle. For good. I slowed down. I went to work later than usual, and gave myself time to “thaw” and meditate in the mornings. I cut my work hours down to 6-8 a day (instead of 10-12, at times 15, before). I switched out my chair for a slightly more comfortable one. I accepted the help of a pillow from a friend. I wasn’t shy about using a heating pad at work – which helped a LOT! I got a box and put it under my desk, ahead of my chair, so I had make-shift chair-cum-recliner to help ease the pressure on my legs. Sometimes, I use my electro-therapy machine for a quick massage at work and try not to feel awkward using it. I started taking more weekends off to recharge than I ever did before. I spent more time with my husband, learned to relax more, explore the outdoors, exercise gently and try to be happier outside of work in general. I started thinking about quitting the crazy scientist routine and finding a job I could be happy in (aka, one that is sciencey), but one that would also allow me some guilt-free time off.
This was not an easy change for me. And I would say I am still in a transition state, because I still feel guilty at times about the time I take off from work and feel the need to push myself harder than I should. BUT . . . what I have been able to do so far has already helped! While I still have ups and downs, they are not nearly as dramatic as they used to be. I feel calmer and more grounded in general than I ever did before. While I still feel an energy crash towards the end of the day, I feel the blow of the crash less harshly than before. While afternoons are still rough on me, I now use some tea and meditation to try to calm my body instead of the gallons of coffee I dumped inside me before. And I have fewer days when I feel like I am about to pass out from the exhaustion. I also need to take fewer sick-days off from work now that I work less everyday. In other words, I am starting to find a steady state for myself, that is lower than what it used to be, but it also means I have less far to fall when I do, and I fall less frequently!
From time to time, my old self still pipes up and wants me to speed up and stay rushed in order to win the race. But when I took life so fast, I failed to enjoy the sweet moments along the way. It’s like my surroundings were blurred, and I missed out on enjoying the fruits and flowers by the road-side. And then I hit a point, where I realized that if I didn’t slow down, I wouldn’t even be in the race! Fibromyalgia changed my perspective on life in general. Who cares if I win the race or not? (Why the hell are we running it anyway?) Even if I did win, I was losing so much along the way that was it even worth it? Life with fibromyalgia feels more like a marathon than a sprint. The slow and steady may or may not win the race, but at least they can continue to stay in the race. And maybe, just maybe, that’s more important anyway!