Eat Sleep Breathe
A brief note for clients who currently see me personally: I know that some of you may worry about my capacity to facilitate healing work for others while simultaneously navigating a period of challenge, withdrawal, and recovery myself. Please be assured that I manage my schedule at Little Dipper holistically and with care. I know myself + my limits and will take time out of the office if/when needed and as I am able.
***
In a recent conversation, someone asked me who I’m writing these journal entries for. It caught me a bit off guard. The answer felt self-evident to me. “People,” I said simply.
I am absolutely positive that everything I’m experiencing, someone else is as well.
I’m never alone. Neither are you.
After-the-fact reflections on periods of intense struggle or upheaval (generally followed by healing + growth) detailing clean, clear lessons are inspirational and aspirational, but they can feel sanitized to me. Stripped of all their visceral overwhelm and confusion. I’m so grateful to the rare travelers who are willing to share their aching dispatches from the messy middle of change.
Over the last 20 years, I’ve been lifted, held, and consoled by other seekers’ accounts of the practices + tools + reminders that served as a lantern against the black for them. I feel kindred with the ones who say, “hey, who knows if this will be for you, but here’s a fragment of what my path out of the woods is looking like.”*
In documenting my wintering, I’m hoping to cast my own small circle of light in the darkness.
I believe it’s important to have voices speaking to what the dark forest looks like while you’re in it, not just when you’re safely out of its shadows.
In that spirit, here is — for me — the first step: Nourishment in the form of…
Food + drink + rhythms around eating
Sleep and approaching rest with honor and curiosity
Intimacy with breath and its ability to regulate the nervous system
The foundation of any convalescence I hope to experience must be deeply rooted in my physical body.
If my body is untended and under-resourced, how can I nourish or mend anything else in my life?
I’ve always viewed sleep and dream time as a respite and an escape. Sad or irritable? Time for a nap. In pain? Let’s lay down in a quiet room and wait to dissolve into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness.
But lately, sleep has been elusive, fractured, and heavy.
Food and eating have been a struggle these days as well.
Several years back, a loop with some disordered eating taught me that rigidity and moralism are seriously harmful when it comes to my diet. As a result, I’m pretty nonjudgmental with myself about food. I also know from years of experience that eating in certain ways makes me feel good (physically, mentally, emotionally) and eating in other ways (as a general practice vs an occasional experience) makes me feel bad.
I’ve recently fallen into some patterns that I know aren’t kind to myself.
Lastly, my relationship with my breath.
For all of its complications, back when I was regularly practicing hot power vinyasa yoga in-studio, I had a liberating level of connection to and sovereignty over my breath. Even my lap swimming practice hasn’t been enough to maintain that relationship in the absence of 6-10 hours of flow yoga a week.
The first step in any kind of recovery for me — the first flickering flame against the dark — is restoring supportive rhythms with sleep, eating, and breath.** Keeping myself accountable to certain standards — not out of fear, but out of love. Being gentle and responsive, but also firm, with myself.
Honestly, what really helps me with this is treating myself the way that I imagine my healthiest + most-resourced self would treat a misguided and deeply sensitive 4 year-old.
“Oh, sweetheart…”
I also want to be really explicit that what I’ve shared in this journal entry is only a small slice of what’s been present during this stage of my wintering. Breath, sleep, and diet are what I’m working on solo, but my ability to do that hard work on my own has been nurtured by a foundation of support from others.
Right now, that includes:
Talk therapy every other week with my psychotherapist at Mindful Counseling GR
Acupuncture every 2-3 weeks with an incredible + intuitive practitioner who works out of her home (reach out if you’re interested in contact info)
Regular bodywork (Rolfing) with Theresa Pearce
I’m telling you about these practitioners and my commitment to receiving consistent care, encouragement, and insight via our work together because I couldn’t do this alone. Healing can be painful and exhausting and having others tenderly hold space for me + skillfully join me in knitting myself back together feels vital. Sometimes it’s the only thing that keeps me putting one foot in front of the other.
Maybe something inside you is sighing in recognition here?
If the thought of a gentle hand on your shoulder, a reminder of your own resilience + bravery, or someone to help you untangle your knots or simply walk alongside you brings you visceral relief, please reach out. We’d be honored witness and support you in this season.
XOXO,
Kate
***
FOOTNOTES:
* I know this type of transparency, however limited, makes some people uncomfortable — to engage in and, sometimes, to witness. And it can also feel “unseemly” to certain folks. That’s okay. Consider noticing + exploring those feelings if they’re coming up for you. Conversely, stepping away if you want to can be a great choice too.
** The specifics of my rhythms are aren’t relevant to the specifics of yours, so it’s unhelpful to share them here.