Making the effort

In the last blog I wrote about learning a new skill in a certificate botanical drawing class. As I mentioned, it was a great opportunity to meet new people, and this got me thinking about one particular occasion. One of the other students on the course lived some distance away, and had to spend over an hour travelling in each morning and then returning home. Because of this she often arrived a little flustered, and didn’t get as much of a chance to get to know the other students. While the rest of us were able to chat amongst ourselves before and after the class, she arrived just in time and then had to rush off as soon as possible to catch her train.

As a result, I didn’t get to know this woman as well as some of my other fellow course-mates, and so when a weekend day out walking happened to bring me to her hometown, I hesitated before sending her a message. It was a few weeks after the course had ended – what if she didn’t even remember me, I thought. In the end I didn’t send a message, but popped into the shop where she had told us she worked, to see whether or not I would run into her.

As soon as she saw me, she broke into a huge grin. Even though we hadn’t been able to get know each other well during the course, it was wonderful to see her, and see how much she appreciated me popping in. We only spoke for a few minutes, and may be unlikely to strike up a long-term friendship, but it was lovely to have that moment of connection. It reminded me that it’s always worth making that effort, and that sometimes it can be wonderful to make those connections even if they are not with close friends. We often overlook relationships with “acquaintances”, but it can be wonderful to share a brief hello every now and again.

An unusual skill

A few weeks ago, I submitted my final piece of work for assessment on my botanical drawing class. It was a watercolour of a clematis, a very delicate flower in beautiful colours – some petals were deep purple and some a much lighter pink, and the leaves were a full spectrum of green. I had spent weeks working on the artwork, and felt a huge sense of satisfaction when finally turning it in.

I began botanical drawing some years ago, and worked through several rounds of evening classes. I always enjoyed the challenge of doing something new, the rhythm of getting out to go to a class and the opportunity to meet other people. However after a while I had worked through all the available classes, and all that remained was a much more demanding certification course, which I hesitated to take on as it was a bigger time commitment.

I was initially concerned that taking on this course seemed a little frivolous – did I really need a certificate in botanical drawing? It was hardly an urgently-needed skill that I would be able to use elsewhere in life. But I went ahead, and ended up extremely glad that I did.

Of course, it’s no surprise that as the effort required to complete the course increased, so too did the sense of achievement I gained in doing it. I was able to bond with the other people in the class over a longer period of time, and while my drawing skills improved so too did my attention to detail and patience. The course was also a wonderful opportunity to do something for myself, and invest a little in my own learning and wellbeing, which I know I often advise others to do!  

Foraging

I read an article last week giving advice on how to forage for wild garlic. I’ve never done so before, but have always enjoyed the wonderful scent when out walking, so spending time foraging for it and eventually using it to cook with sounded like a great idea to me.

However I mentioned this in passing to a neighbour, who was horrified. Why on earth would I go out and try to forage for food when there is plenty available in the local supermarket? And what about the risk of being poisoned?! The neighbour in question was raised in a city, and is of a younger generation, and I wondered if the idea of foraging or eating food from a garden or surrounding area is becoming less popular. I fondly remember looking forward to blackberry season each year, and in the meantime often eating apples and other fruit from public trees.

I’ve written before about our local community garden, which has become a wonderful social hub, with the added benefit of being able to divide up and take home the produce. After a lot of maintenance work over the winter we’re looking forward to the warmer weather and reaping some of our spring crops.

I’m also planning to head out hunting for wild garlic, if time allows. There’s something wonderful about using and eating produce from the outdoors, which creates a sense of connection and grounding to nature – while making sure there’s enough for others and you don’t bring home anything poisonous of course. Let me know any of your foraging tips in the comments!

Your own strength

One of my clients – I’ll call her Maria - recently told me a story that she was happy for me to share anonymously. She lives in a city, and has recently recovered from an injury. She gradually built up her strength at home, and then started venturing to group classes at her local gym.

One day, she was taking part in a “strength” class, involving lifting light weights in a controlled environment. The class was such that the group were all lifting a bar of weights in time to the music, for a set period of time. Maria noticed she was falling behind the rest of the class, not quite managing to keep her movements in time with the beat of the music. This continued across several exercises, and she felt embarrassed to be lagging behind, but did her best to keep going at her own pace, focussing only on what she was doing rather than looking at the others in the class.

It was only at the end of the series of exercises that Maria looked around properly, and realised that every single person in the room was lifting a weight lighter than hers. She had chosen what best suited her ability and how she was feeling on the day, and continued at her own pace. She had briefly felt embarrassed that she wasn’t moving as quickly as everyone else, and yet it turned out she had been lifting a much heavier weight!

Maria told me the anecdote while laughing at her own initial reaction, and we agreed it had been absolutely the best response to just focus on her own activity, without comparing to what everyone else is doing. Something we often agree is best practice, but is much easier said than done!

Workshop in Athlone

As some of you know, I teach in-person sessions using movement to help people explore their understanding of their bodies and how they perceive others. The information exchange between body and mind can open up a new route to emotional literacy and empathy -something you can read more about elsewhere on my website here.

The aim of these sessions is to enable insight into and confidence in the body, heightening awareness, which is fundamental to developing genuine empathy. Empathy is often described as the ability to understand the world from another person’s point of view, and is associated with deep listening skills and verbal encouragement. These sessions are for a general audience, but in particular can help those who find that empathy doesn’t come naturally, or makes them feel anxious. 

The workshop in Athlone was an introduction to a training day for practitioners involved in a research study run by Systematic Kinesiology. The aim was to help the participants understand how it feels to do something new and to trust the person guiding them. This led to a lively discussion - you can read some of the feedback here.

Many of the workshop participants had travelled a long way in bad weather to get to the workshop, and it was a truly brilliant group. This sort of work helps form a bond and throughout the day they repeatedly contributed thoughtful and passionate points of view, creating a cheerful and productive atmosphere.

By association

I have a friend who plots her usual running route via her favourite café, and always ends her run there, so she can enjoy the treat of a takeaway coffee as she walks home. Another friend told me recently that he only ever wears his favourite shirts on Mondays. Many people I know tend to wear their best outfits on Fridays, to celebrate the end of the week, however he said he finds his favourite, brightly-coloured shirts cheer him up on the day he finds most difficult, giving him some small thing to look forward to on a Sunday evening.

This friend no longer lives in a city, but when he did, and would face a 45 minute commute every day on very busy public transport, he would save this time for reading, and ended up looking forward to it as a chance to enjoy his book. Back when I was training for my marathon, years ago, I would only ever listen to music when I went out running. It became a way to motivate myself, as I always looked forward to the enjoyment of the music, leading me to look forward to the runs themselves as well.

My husband long ago formed the habit of listening to the radio while ironing – a task he used to find boring, but not when gripped by whatever sports commentary happens to be on (or sometimes singing along to the greatest hits!)

We all need a little bit of motivation sometimes, and it can help to form a habit of linking something joyful with something you find more difficult, so they form an association. You might find you even end up looking forward to your chore or task as it brings a joyful side effect!

A reconnection

Karen Darke had felt pain in her left shoulder for so long that she felt “held together” by supportive tape intended to relieve pressure on muscles and joints. When she went to a doctor, he told her she had the shoulders of an 80 year old – in her 40s – and would need corrective surgery and probably a shoulder replacement at some point.

A geologist, Karen was working in the Bolivian Andes when an accident left her paralysed from the chest down. She took up the sport of hand cycling, and went on to win gold for Britain in Rio de Janeiro in 2016. It was after the win in 2016 that her shoulder hurt, and she found herself feeling “completely misaligned” after eight years of gruelling training.

She had been prepared for the risk of depression after the Olympics, which is a known phenomenon among athletes. To combat this, she had planned a trip to cycle 1,500km through Patagonia with two teammates and one of their wives. When she told them she wasn’t sure if she was up to it due to her run-down condition, they encouraged her to go.

The group cycled through villages, some hundreds of kilometres apart. Karen’s story is shared in the book Wilder Journeys: True Stories of Nature, Adventure & Connection, edited by Laurie King and Miriam Lancewood. In it, Karen writes of the pleasure of reconnecting with nature again, adding: “For all the comforts offered by our modern world, I can think of no substitute more satisfying than lying on the grass watching a sinking sun after a day moving through the great outdoors, listening to the soothing bubble of a nearby stream and the crackle of a small fire”.

After days of cycling, allowing her mind to drift and focus just on the kilometres ahead and enjoying the nature surrounding her, Karen writes that she feels like she is “waking up from a long coma”. Her shoulder stops hurting, and her movement is no longer limited when reaching or stretching. She no longer has need of any shoulder surgery, and writes that she will later phone to cancel it.

Karen’s story is a truly remarkable one, and this is just one episode within it. But it is a fascinating example of a serious intervention being planned for a patient (in this case surgery) and then later cancelled after a change in lifestyle – in this case trading an urban lifestyle focussed on a gruelling training regime for a reconnection to nature at a different pace.

Off to the woods

The moment I stepped onto the train, I knew I had made the right choice. Half an hour later, I was even more sure as I left the pavement and my feet crunched onto fallen autumn leaves. I squelched through the mud, reaching for my hat and scarf to protect against the colder air, and looked up to see shafts of sunlight reaching through the branches above. I could feel myself relaxing. How could I have considered missing this?

It was a weekend day shortly before Christmas, when I had found myself unexpectedly without any fixed commitments or obligations. I did however have a long list of things to do, which had been building up over the busy run-up to Christmas. I had tried to get everything ticked off before the weekend but it just hadn’t been possible. As I contemplated my to-do list that morning, I felt a little overwhelmed, knowing that I would have to go back to work the next day. Despite having so much to get done, I also knew this was my last chance before Christmas to get outside for a walk on my own due to other commitments. I sat down at my desk with a cup of tea and sighed, resigning myself to a day in front of my laptop, regretting the walk I was missing out on.

Half an hour later, I found myself staring out of the window, feeling tired and distracted and not having made any progress. I made a decision, closed my laptop, and went to get changed. An hour later I was in the woods, trampling along one of my favourite paths. I immediately felt calmer, and despite me not making progress on it in that moment, my to-do list felt a lot more manageable.

After a blissful walk, I went home, and got more done in a few hours in the afternoon than I had during the whole of the previous day. It reminded me what I already knew: the importance of taking time to rest and recharge rather than trying to “power through” any kind of task. A few days ago, coming up against an abrupt return to the to-do list at the start of the new year, I deployed the same tactic. This time I made a plan the day before and left earlier, managing to have a wonderful few hours of walking before a full, productive day. I find especially in the winter, and at the start of a new year when things can feel abruptly busy, it can be very helpful to identify something that helps you recharge, and dedicate time to that very valuable activity.  

Making connections

 It was a Tuesday evening, and I was feeling a little tired. A combination perhaps of the darker, colder evenings and busy planning for the end of the year. At first I was a little reluctant to get dressed up and go out to a restaurant in Dublin, but I soon geared myself up and off I went.

It was a dinner for some of the mothers from one of my children’s schooldays. We’ve met up semi-regularly over the years, and this was our ten-year reunion. I had been one of the organisers, and it had taken some effort to bring it together, especially at a busy time of year. As soon as I walked into the room, I was reminded how much that little effort is worth it. It was wonderful to see friends again, and to reconnect with some women who I had lost touch with over the years. We all heard the major updates in the lives of our children, and caught up with how our own lives have changed since we last met.

The pandemic seems (thankfully) a long time ago now, but I am still reminded how lucky we are to be able to meet up in person. This kind of reunion took some time to organise, but it was so worth it to rekindle and maintain those connections. I had a similar feeling after meeting colleagues and collaborators during my trip to Canada and the US earlier this year – it was an effort to get there, but a fantastic reward to meet like-minded people in person. Sometimes attending these meetings can be a little tiring, whether they are for work or socialising – especially at this time of year. It’s important to rest and take care of yourself, but sometimes, it’s important to push yourself to get out the door and make those connections.

What’s in a name?

The final update from my trip to Canada and the US was an announcement from Dr David Clarke, who some of you will know as one of the team who edited the Psychophysiologic Disorders (PPD) textbook. He announced that the Psychophysiologic Disorders Association is changing its name, to the Association for Treatment of Neuroplastic Symptoms (ATNS), with a catchphrase of “symptomatic”. His aim is to reflect the neuroscientific research of the field.

PPD practitioners spend a lot of time thinking about names, as they can be very significant to patients, practitioners and their relatives. Describing pain as “chronic” can sometimes be difficult for people, as they feel they are somehow not entitled to this term, or their pain is not “bad enough” to meet a certain threshold. I use the term chronic pain to describe pain that has been present for more than three months, while acute pain does not last as long. Importantly, chronic pain is not the same as “permanent” pain, and if it is caused by stress illness then it is possible for it to be resolved. 

A word that used to be in common usage was “psychosomatic”, referring to a physical symptom with a non-physical cause such as stress. However, I find this term unhelpful, as it has become associated in popular usage with something that is “not real” or “made up”, undermining the very real symptoms referred to. As you all know, I find it important to recognise that the symptom of pain is both physical and very real.

The names that we use can sometimes influence the outcomes of our pain, as names influence how we mentally frame a situation. Emphasising the dramatic, chronic, and seemingly “permanent” nature of pain can make it feel as though that pain will never be resolved, decreasing the motivation to try. On the other hand, dismissing very real physical symptoms as minor or “made up” can in turn increase feelings of isolation, misery and frustration, increasing the stress response and further exacerbating pain.

Something that I am frequently told by patients who have successfully diminished their pain through their work with me is that they appreciate that the resolving chronic pain process is individual and patient-focused. While working with me they come to appreciate the importance of recognising that the words we use matter and that using particular words may have ramifications.