Greetings fellow traveller, I write to you after a treacherous journey of COVID recovery, but I also note I could have started off, by writing that I have been convalescing for the past 2 weeks.
Both are essentially true.
I have come to realise that resting only happens when I have gone “all or nothing” at work, or occasionally in my personal life.
Less the ‘personal life’ these days, as I’m an introvert in my 40’s who can only be trusted to attend an evening event, if I have been made the designated driver who is responsible for transporting another human, to said location.
That’s how you get me. By pulling on my ‘reliable’ or ‘responsible’ strings.
But a covid diagnosis got me instead and I went down the rabbit hole of feeling guilty for letting so many people down, until I realised that this was an essential reset button that had to be pressed.
And held. For a while.
If only to show me how bloody ridiculous my schedule had become and how much of a saviour complex, I have.
This is also known as a superhero or white knight syndrome, and occurs when rescuers like me, only feel good about ourselves when helping others. We believe our purpose is to help those around us, and this can lead to us sacrificing our own needs and well-being in the effort to aid another.
In my mind I’m Wonder Woman but with shorter legs, and thicker reading glasses. And an annoying lingering cough.
My aunty passed away peacefully, and we had to isolate instead of mourning with our loved ones. 6 consecutive migraines in a row ensured I didn’t do anything stupid like try to help with arrangements or see clients over zoom.
It appears that even while I rest to heal, it has to be hell for leather, or “all or nothing” for it to be effective.
I’m really looking forward to updating that aspect about myself. Or killing it off so it no longer exists, because it’s bloody exhausting.
The timing of the public holidays meant that I was able to attend a beautiful farewell service and be with my extended family. It was so meaningful and special and highlighted how precious life is.
We’d only recently gathered together about 3 months ago to celebrate my great nephews christening, and I was reflecting on how spirited we all were then, versus how sombre we were the other day.
Initially, lockdowns and restrictions meant we hadn’t seen each other in so long and we took a gazillion pics together then, but I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful and raw everyone looked recently, while grieving our loss.
There’s a stunning exquisiteness with tear filled eyes that lock with your own, in a bid to connect over a united sense of what is precious. No wonder photographers try to capture the essence of such deep emotions as opposed to our social media feeds that are full of curated pics of our smiling faces.
“All or Nothing”. No wonder we chase the dopamine and get addicted to the adrenalin.
The ALL is glorious. It’s ubiquitous and inspirational and has the frequency to channel our dreams and then journey them into reality.
But the NOTHING is where the gold nuggets can also land as a profound vision. And if we make the room for them to spread with enough space, maybe we won’t need to be part of the meticulous planning of the journey.
Maybe I can learn to let it unravel in its own Divine time instead of my own shitty timing.