This Curated Life

After a recent bout with depression – something that comes and goes in my life with some frequency – the triggers were diagnosed by my therapist as overwhelm and stress. And it seemed that this had been my general state for a number of years. At least for as long as I could remember. But it was not my ability to cope that seemed to be the problem, but simply the number of things that I was attempting to cope with. 

Some of these things were idiosyncrasies of my psyche – emotional flaws picked up over years of programming. Being a habitual people pleaser with low self-esteem is one prominent example. Others were of my own making though. In addition to being a father and having a full-time job, I also have side projects, hobbies, interests, and activities, all of which keep me busy. On the whole these things bring me happiness and rewards – or at least they did – until they became pebbles in my shoe. Sometimes the things we hold onto, end up holding on to us – and it can be a choke hold.

I’ll explain, using one of my preferred analogies – cargo ships. The engines of those enormous ocean-going ships are often the size of a house and can generate many thousands of horsepower to keep the ships, some of which are a third of a mile a long, moving through the water. But these engines are only built to run at about thirty percent of their full power, with the rest of their capacity reserved for special manoeuvres, such as changing course, catching up with the schedule, or stopping when arriving at port. All the sorts of things that demand a little bit of extra oomph.

However, if these engines were to run at their full capacity for any extended period of time, it wouldn’t be long before they overheated, got worn down, or burned out. Do you see where I’m going with this?

Now, I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m rarely operating at just thirty percent of my capacity. And indeed, whenever I find space, I tend to fill it up with more things to keep me occupied. In my spare time I host a podcast that had recently gone weekly and required a lot of mental space and work to organise. I was also trying to get daily exercise, to train for a marathon, to be mindful of what I was eating so that I could lose weight. I was trying to meditate when I could, and during lockdown I had started a new houseplant hobby, adopting wonderful new plants which now filled every corner and windowsill of my house.

But what I didn’t realise was that with every new houseplant, every new item on my schedule, and every new job I gave myself, I was filling up my capacity. All of these things, in addition to my full-time job, and trying to keep on top of the chores at home, and also being a father – while at the same time being swamped with the 24-hour news cycle about the deepening political crisis, about climate change and pollution, about war and famine, alongside my guilt about the past, worry about the future, the constant voices in my head telling me that I wasn’t good enough, that I was failure, and that I wasn’t doing enough to save the world – it was pushing me to capacity.

And then I had a run of bad luck. I’d stopped training to nurse a knee injury, and immediately got a sinus infection that lasted about three months. The steroids and antibiotics they put me on impacted my chest, so when I began training again, I couldn’t get my breath, and that became deeply frustrating. And then our little girl brought a nasty illness – “hand foot and mouth” – back from nursery, and I got painful blisters on my hands and in my mouth that seemed to last forever. And then I got COVID. And then we had a power cut that lasted six days and required us to call on the generosity of some good friends who let us stay at their place until the lights came back on. And then the car broke down. More guilt. More stress. More pressure to keep my head above water and simply cope.

Each time we got over one thing; another thing would hit. Another illness brought back from nursery. Another unexpected expense or inconvenience. And all the while attempting to keep on as normal. Pushing, pushing, at full capacity. None of these things individually being much of a crisis or difficult to deal with, but all just accumulating, one of top of another, inching me closer to being unable to manage at all.

And then, unexpectedly, a family member fell ill and was taken to hospital for long term care. I needed to organise visits, and to juggle everything else to fit around them, and suddenly there was no more capacity left in the engines. No more oomph. And I found myself in a place I didn’t want to be, as a person I didn’t want to be, yet unable to escape. Unhappy. Exhausted. Unmotivated. I’d lost the faith. Suddenly, I was despising myself for struggling so much, and it felt as though all the effort required for living a life simply wasn’t worth it anymore.

Pebbles in your shoe

I once heard someone talk about two types of trauma. There’s “trauma with a capital T” – that is the terrible things that befall us, that leave deep emotional, and sometimes physical, scars. The abuse. The accidents. The life changing illnesses. The cruelty and the harsh moments in life that shouldn’t be wished upon anyone.

But then there’s “trauma with a little t”. These are things that we all have to deal with, often on a daily basis. Some of them are just tiny trifles. The constant stream of notifications from our phones. The work calls. The bills that need paying. The bad night’s sleep, the growing waistlines, and the diminishing energy, the negative self-image. The pressure of commercialism to look better, to have more, to stop being such a loser and just buy this new shiny thing, whatever it might be, but which is sure to make us feel complete.

Constantly trying to find the time, all the time.

A quote, sometimes attributed to, but never actually said by Muhammed Ali, states: “It isn’t the mountains ahead to climb that wear you out, it’s the pebble in your shoe.”

All of these things, these tiny stressors, the constant media reports of death and destruction, the constant treadmill of work and chores, the constant pressure to do more, be more, and to make something of this all too brief life, are all pebbles in our shoes. All the responsibility for the houseplants that are now growing up around us like a jungle demanding to be watered and cared for, their wilted leaves a reminder of our failure. The jobs we give ourselves, the goals we set, the expectations, the pressure to do more as individuals to address the corruption and injustice in the world, along with the pressure to simply keep on top of the ever-growing to-do list. It all just rubs against us, causing friction, making us sore, and just like those big engines, inching us closer to burn out.

And here’s the thing – it is making us physically sick, too.

The mind-body bridge

The connection between mental, emotional, and physical health is well documented. For some reason, though, despite growing acceptance in the mainstream, practices such as mindfulness and meditation are still considered with some scepticism in the west. Wellness and well-being are considered yuppy indulgences, not to be taken seriously in a very serious world. Yet the impact of stress on our bodies is a well-researched fact.

When we are under stress, the hormone balance in our body changes. The way we carry tension changes. Our entire physiology responds. In a tight spot we often find our hearts beat a little faster, our field of vision diminishes, and our palms sweat as we enter fight or flight mode. The affect of mental and emotional stimuli on our bodies is obvious, but we easily dismiss the impact that constant low-level stress – the “trauma with a little t” – has on us. Yet, every day, when we turn to social media, or put on the news and hear about the latest tragedy or crisis, we’re putting ourselves into a stressed state. This can influence the release of hormones such as cortisol, which has a big impact on the way our bodies function and, for example, the way we store fat. People living stressful lives, have a much harder time managing their weight. Throw in the pressure from advertising which encourages us to consume more heavily processed junk foods, and you can see why obesity becomes a public health issue that is also closely linked to inequality.

Stress can also shorten our telomeres, the end caps on our chromosomes. These are responsible for our cellular ageing, and shorter telomeres have been associated with increased risk of heart disease, diabetes, and cancer.

And stress can also impact the ability of our immune systems to function, making us more susceptible to illness. And consider this – a recent study published in Biomed Central showed that news reporting of the Covid pandemic had a major negative impact on the mental health of the population. It doesn’t take a huge stretch of the imagination to join the dots – consuming news about Covid can actually make you more susceptible to catching Covid!

It's like a snake eating its own tail.

And when we get stressed, we get tense. And depending how we carry this tension it can cause back ache, headaches and migraines, stomach problems and a whole lot more. Our mental and emotional health, therefore, is inextricably wired into our physical health. To be healthy, then, is not simply a matter of nourishing and exercising our bodies, but our minds and spirits too.

Making space for ourselves

Demands are being placed on us all the time, but the majority of these aren’t for our benefit, and low-level emotional stress is often used as a tactic to attract our eyeballs and our headspace. Advertisers use increasingly eye-catching and often emotional ways to get us to pay attention. News editors select which, from a world of issues, they deem the most important for us, from their perspective, and for their business model. Politicians use fear and anger to sell their ideas and get our votes. We are constantly being told what it is to be a good person, how a good person should think and behave, and often that requires buying in to someone else’s agenda, or buying someone else’s product. Commercialism, and the all-too-effective outrage economy, want our attention, and they are getting it in ways that are bad for our health.

Throw in the pressures from social media, the expectations of keeping up with the Joneses, and the demands of just getting by day-to-day, of managing a household and a family and a budget, and it’s no wonder that so many of us are burned out, and well on the way to becoming unwell.

So, what’s the antidote?

Well, there’s no panacea, and life is constantly evolving and changing, so there’s no saying that what works in this season will work in the next, especially if like me you struggle with seasonal affective disorder. There’s even no way of knowing that what works for one person, will work for another. But here’s what seems to be working for me.

I decided, after some reflection, to put everything on pause, and engage in a process of reduction and simplification. I gave away most of my beloved houseplants, holding on to just a few prize specimens that really bring me joy, and swapping the others for homemade jams in a local Facebook group with people nearby. As the windowsills became clearer and more light began to flood in, it felt as if I’d removed a tight hat.

I put my podcast on pause, turned off all the notifications on my phone, and stopped checking my email with any regularity. I bought a book of Japanese poetry to keep by the bed that I could dip into late at night or first thing in the morning, instead of instinctively reaching for Facebook or Instagram. And I deleted my Twitter account – the place I would usually and habitually head to for my daily dose of unhappiness.

I reduced, and reduced, and reduced, stripping away all activities and inputs that were not immediately vital to me, to my loved ones, or my job – and trust me, that still leaves a lot. But once the shelves were looking a bit emptier, I began to restock, only with things I had carefully chosen to be much more nourishing to me and my life, based loosely on that famous quote from William Morris: “Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be beautiful or believe to be useful.”

If it can apply to houses, it can apply to our minds and bodies too, right?

I have chosen to become a curator of myself and my life. To carefully choose the media that I consume, with regard to the impact it has on my mental, and therefore physical, wellbeing. To carefully choose the activities that I do today, so that I can thank myself for them tomorrow. And to carefully choose who I want to be, and to do the things that will make that much more likely to come true.

I don’t want to be this miserable, depressed, overwhelmed and stressed guy all the time. That’s not who I imagine, when I visualise my ideal future self. So, I’m working on getting better sleep, so that I can be more rested and upbeat tomorrow, and because tiredness is one of the things that plays a big factor in my mood. I’m working on getting more exercise and drinking more water and eating better. But crucially, while not letting myself off the hook, I’m treating myself with kindness and I’m being mindful so that these things don’t become pebbles in my shoe.

I realise that some people thrive under pressure and stress, and of course, who doesn’t work better when they have a deadline? But I also know what works for me, and I know myself relatively well, warts and all. So, if feeling good about myself tomorrow, means forgoing a beer tonight, then that’s a small sacrifice to make. If being more present and engaged and brighter with my daughter tomorrow means getting to bed earlier tonight, then that’s my job for today. It turns out that wellness, both physical and mental, and the space required to nurture and nourish it, are not simply the indulgent acts of white women in towel robes at health spas, but crucial to making us more effective and more capable people. If we want to be there for others, we must be there for ourselves first. If want to be the best parents, employees, activists, then we must be there for ourselves first, and we must refuse to feel guilty about that. You can’t pour from an empty cup, after all. Yet for so long, so many of us have been doing just that, and at great expense.

We have to make each choice for ourselves with our wellbeing in mind, otherwise those choices will be made by others, only not FOR us.

This curated life

The idea of choosing seems simple, but to really choose well means undoing a lifetime of programming by a society that has for so long regarded us as consumers. Consumers of food, of products and services, of ideologies. Society is not here for us, but for itself, and if we mindlessly follow along with its agenda because it’s so much easier than making the difficult choices for ourselves, it can easily use us up and spit us out. Better then to rebel, even just a little, and break the culture to enjoy something a little more wholesome and nourishing.

Do the things today that make you feel good about yourself tomorrow. Reject the instant gratification of junk food and junk ideologies, and work on the delayed gratification of being a little better in the morning than you are today.

I’m not fixed, but I’m working on it. I’m not perfect, I’m still ill, and I’m still struggling, but I’m getting better. And I will keep getting better. Because I know that, in the words of Jiddu Krishnamurti, “it’s no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.”

So, in order to not let society’s sickness bear heavy on me as I step into my brave new world of being, I turn to yet more wise words, from Huxley:

“Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”