The message my body has been sending me (that I've been ignoring)

I'm not very good at being sick (who is?). I rail at the unfairness of not being able to follow through with my plans, trying desperately to convince my body it's fine, silently seething at the sick people who probably infected me (damn you, coughing man on the bus!). Since I'm self-employed I lose money for every day I don't work, so I can't help but panic about the hit to my income... which only magnifies the unrest within my body instead of promoting rest (so helpful). It's a shitty situation, and yet, a very necessary one.

Recently I was struck down by a sinus infection that morphed into a chest infection. I was confined to bed for almost three days, too weak and feverish to move. And I was miserable. 

When situations like this happen - which is very rare for me as my immune system is really robust - it's difficult to remind myself that being sick is NORMAL. There is nothing wrong with me. My body has not shut down because it's broken, it has shut down because it wants to be stronger... and for that to happen, it needs to rest and rejuvenate. That quote 'almost everything works best if you turn it off and turn it on again' is pretty on point when it comes to colds and flus. 

But because we live in a 'go go go' culture, resting is frowned upon. We try to 'soldier on' instead of giving our bodies what they actually need - rest, and acceptance of our present circumstances. Our to-do list seems so much more important than our health (even though, without our health, we can't do anything). Then we wonder why we feel wiped out and then get sick again later.

Why is it so hard for us to listen to our bodies?

We also have a tendency to talk ourselves into being sick... not ideal. If I had a dollar for every time I heard someone in the office declare: 'I think I'm getting sick' or 'there's something going around - everyone's getting sick' I'd be a very rich woman. When we talk or think about illness as an inevitability - even in jest - the body responds by winding down our defences. The body, after all, is programmed to respond to messages from the brain. I am not saying our thoughts *make* us sick, obviously, but we do have the power to significantly increase the likelihood that we'll fall prey to bacteria and viruses with the messages we send our bodies. I regularly say to myself 'I have great health' and 'my immune system is strong'. This doesn't mean I never get sick (clearly) but it does mean my defences are higher. Which means that when I do come down with something, my body is really in need of rest.

The truth is, my body had been telling me for weeks that it needed a break. (I have a holiday booked in very soon... but, unfortunately, not soon enough.) When I refused to listen to its pleas for relaxation, it forced me to listen. Will I never learn?

I have a lot of work to do in this area. I say yes to things that I know I don't have time for. I limit my sleep so I can fit more work in. I know I'm not the only one who does this. We are all writing cheques that our bodies can't cash. I'm reminded of the Dalai Lama's response when he was asked what surprises him most about humanity: 'Man. Because he sacrifices his health in order to make money. Then he sacrifices money to recuperate his health.'

It's very clear to me that I need to break that cycle. 

This is what happens when you don't listen to your body

Are you listening to your body when it tells you what it needs? Because if you’re not, it will find a way to reach you – and you probably won’t like it when it does.

Here’s what recently happened to my friend. She does very long hours, often long into the night, and admits she doesn’t really understand the meaning of the word ‘rest’. For months her body had been giving her cues that her stress levels were out of control, but she kept on going. So her body found a way to reach her that she could not ignore. 

Last week the poor thing fell over in the most ridiculously freak-accident way – and got a concussion. She went to work the next day – but felt so dizzy she had to go home. The next day she could barely get out of bed. The following day she went to work and had to come home because her head was throbbing. On the weekend she went to brunch with a friend and had to get her friend to drive her car home as she was too exhausted. Having had a concussion myself, I know how frustrating this can be – and that it takes a really long time to get back to normal functioning.

Look, accidents happen – and I wouldn’t recommend going looking for a reason when they do. But in this case I can’t help but wonder if her body and the Universe have conspired to get her to give it what she so desperately needs – rest, and a lot of it. 

What I’m getting at here is there’s only so long you can go on running yourself ragged. Your body cannot sustain an exhaustive pace forever, so unless you give it regular time-outs, it will short out in some way. In the modern age where busyness is a religion, we like to think we can do so much more than what we have physical capacity for – our brains are writing out cheques that our bodies can’t cash, I guess you could say. This is why people get sick as soon as they go on holiday. This is also why people get colds and coughs that linger for weeks at a time, then return a month later – because they didn’t stop and let the illness take its course, allowing their immunity to build back up. Instead they took Codral and kept turning up to work.

Maybe my friend’s accident is purely bad luck, but I don’t really believe in luck and the angels have taught me there’s no such thing as coincidence. But regardless of the cause, my friend is benefiting hugely from this enforced period of rest, as frustrating as it is.

When your body tells you to stop, it’s a good idea to listen – before it *makes* you listen.

Stuck in grumpy mode? There's probably something going on underneath

For the past few days I’ve been really shitty, and despite my best efforts to shake it, I keep reverting to a state best described as the angry love child of Grumpy Smurf and Oscar the Grouch. I’ve found myself replaying old arguments in my head and scripting shouty comebacks. I sent off a series of terse emails. And yesterday on the train, the sound of someone constantly rustling a plastic bag annoyed me so much I had to get up and change seats. (I was also tempted to shout at her for using plastic bags, which is surely the greater crime, no?)

All this irritation had no obvious cause, but it went on for days and I suspected something else was going on internally.
My body was giving me signals that it was experiencing irritation at a deep level. My jaw became tight and painful (this is one part of the body where we hold on to anger), my digestion went out of whack (something which is usually, but not always, associated with emotional stress) and I developed hay fever (which is all about irritation)*.

Anger and irritation are perfectly valid emotions, and me experiencing them is not a problem in and of itself. The issue for me was that they weren’t prompted by a specific event or experience, and they were lingering like out-of-town relatives after Boxing Day. I knew that this was something that needed to be investigated.

When I thought about what is really frustrating me at the moment, I instantly felt that sensation in my gut that I get when I know I’ve identified something significant. There’s the fact I have to move out of my house, which is going to be an exhausting process that will cost me money I don’t have right now (and am worried that I won’t find, despite the angels’ reassurances to the contrary). There’s also the fact that my business is taking a long time to get off the ground. The experience of sitting in an empty room with an empty diary and waiting for the phone to ring is somewhat soul-destroying. 

It wasn’t hard to see the common thread: fear. Namely, fear of failure and fear of not having enough (money, resources, time). So many metaphysical books say that everything comes back to fear. In fact, anger is often referred to as a secondary emotion because it is usually masking another emotion. And often, that emotion is anchored in fear. 

Recognising my fears and calling them out for playing saboteur on my physical health hasn’t made me any less annoyed, but at least I’m aware of what’s really going on – and that’s helping me to put my focus back on what will help me move forward: patience. Accepting that my life is unfolding exactly as it should, and being patient with that process, makes me feel more calm. I hope that that will translate to patience across the board, making me less inclined to react to surface-level irritations. That’s the theory, anyway. 

I can’t, however, make any guarantees regarding the safety of plastic bag rustlers. 

* For the record, this doesn’t mean that if you sneeze you’re afraid of something – it probably just means you should stay away from pollen (lol). Also, sometimes a bad mood is just a bad mood. What I’ve documented here was just my experience of a lot of physical symptoms and emotional triggers adding up to the same thing.