Ordinary Things

Antidotes for getting through winter living with disability.

February Prompt:

Disability adds a layer to seasonal fatigue. Discuss your go-to antidote(s) for feeling lighter and more energized at this time of year

Ordinary Things

“It is no bad thing to celebrate a simple life” J.R.R. Tolkien

If I’m being honest, tiredness scares me. I don’t know how others feel but I don’t
have an easy relationship with fatigue. I wish I could say I invite it in and say it’s OK,
rest here as long as you need but I don’t. When that bone deep tiredness comes to visit I get really frightened and I start thinking, well that’s it now, I will never not feel tired again! Catastrophising is one of my special talents, a skill I have honed over many years. I’ve always struggled with my energy levels but in recent years it has gotten worse. I have tried raging against it but of course this depletes my energy supply even further. So instead I’ve had to learn new ways to live with the reality of the situation. It seems I am not in control of this body or indeed anything else.

When these periods of tiredness hit I have discovered that ordinary things are my salvation. Returning to some sense of normal makes me feel OK again. The writer Suleika Jaouad calls these little acts that get us through energy multipliers, things
that help you rest, recover and begin again. Whether it be a cup of tea, my dogs, a piece of music or my yoga practice, simple actions are the key to getting me back into my own body. When it’s really intense, I can only do one pose or listen to one song. Any more feels like too much.

A few years ago I had a particular bad bout of ill health. It was a perfect storm of symptoms and fatigue. I stopped working, saw a lot of doctors, scoured the internet for answers and tried a myriad of different treatments to alleviate my discomfort but nothing worked. I worried that I would never be able to go back to my life again. My panic attacks returned in full force. Watching tv appeared to increase the anxiety. It wasn’t enough to stop the intrusive thoughts and calm me down. I needed something, not just to distract me but to fully immerse myself in. Books became my saving grace.

I have always enjoyed reading but I became a veracious reader during this time. I could not get enough of stories. I had this irrational fear that the sickness would cause me to lose my mind. I believed if I kept reading, learning and engaging with stories I would be OK. The writer Joan Didion says, “we tell ourselves stories in order to live”. I read these stories in order to live in this body. They were proof of life.

I had very little energy for people during this time so reading felt like a way of ease dropping on conversations, still being part of something without actually having to take part in it. Like being a spectre in the background of other people’s lives. They kept me company and helped me to stay human. I was being robbed of my ability to connect and books made me feel less lonely. Even when I was too unwell to read them the stacks of books in my room were a comfort to me. Sitting alone in my house, I reasoned that as long as I have these stories and my dogs I’ll be alright. I figured at least this way I could still empathise and my brain wouldn’t waste away to nothing. I wouldn’t completely drop out of the world. Crowding my brain with characters meant I would not be left alone with my anxious, terrified mind.

Life is complicated but sometimes the anecdote is not. I saw someone post a picture the other day of these little ducks made of snow, underneath she wrote “someone left these all over my neighbourhood and I wonder if I should have faith in the world again.” These “pointless, precious things” as the writer Martha Beck calls them are everywhere and they provide relief, even just for a minute. I hope that whatever you’re struggling with today you can reach for something small to get you from one moment to the next.

- Laura Hallissey

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