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I refuse to feel rushed
Is this the end of urgency?
Salted (adjective): having developed a resistance to disease by surviving it.
I know, I know, I wasn’t going to write again in April. But this title phrase has been tugging at my sleeve like an annoying toddler. So, here we are.
I refuse to keep feeling rushed.
In all aspects of my life. I’m done with it.
By my own too high expectations.
By my chores and to-do list.
By my own self imposed deadlines.
By the month, by the week, by the day, by the hour…minute…second.
I no longer want to feel I’m being carried along by someone else’s current.
I refuse to keep feeling rushed. This may be an overly ambitious statement. But the launch of Notes here on Substack this week brought with it that all too familiar avalanche of trying, striving, clamouring (did you feel it too?) whilst as writers we all grappled to get a handle on what this new feature meant for us. That social media-esque undercurrent of selfish anxiety.
That bitter disappointment, actually feeling completely furious, that I had fled here to the safety of Substack, only for the vicious overlords of consumption and overwhelm to track me down, pin me to the floor and force my index finger to scroll Notes mindlessly, in a desperate attempt to ‘keep up’.
(Of course, the vicious overlords do not exist. It’s me. All me).
And while those of us who have jumped firmly from the social media ship of non-stop cabaret, bright disco lights and twenty four hour gluttonous content scrolling buffets are left reeling (pun totally intended) by this new onslaught of online possibility, let’s all just take a flipping breath.
Because there is no rush.
There is no rush. We can never see all the things, do all the things, listen to all the things, reply to all the things, visit all the things, write all the things, cook all the things, watch all the things, create all the things.
We can only be here. Calmly poised and serenely gliding down our own, perfectly glorious, lane.
In 2022 I announced on social media I was taking ‘A Year of Rest’. And, okay, that kinda happened…it was a little half-arsed and I could have tried harder (I know, hilarious) but it was a beautiful catalyst for all that I have grown to realise, since. All that I have noticed in the process of slowing. It initiated my final steps to leave social media (entirely, completely now, accounts deleted and forever laid to rest since 2nd April!) That announcement last year was a cry for help, not help from anyone else, but a cry from my inner me, to the outward me, to just, for Pete’s sake, listen.
My year of rest continues, into 2023 and beyond, hopefully until I am much older and even more grey. It morphs into ‘my many years of much rest’. Rest from obligations and shoulds. Prioritising proper self care over all else. Drowning myself in optimum nutrition. Moving, moving, moving my healthy body. Streamlining my work. Loving my family until I’m fit to burst. Seeing the effects of all of this on my health, hormones, immunity.
And I’m doing this ongoing, rest of my life experiment, for all the women I write and create for. The weathered women, I call us.
A weathered woman has been through the mill. She has had at least a couple of decades of playing it safe, staying small, and experiencing many heartbreaks on a variety of relationship levels - romantic, platonic, familial. Perhaps she has experienced complex and chronic trauma in her early years. Possibly she learned to use drugs, drink, or sex as a way to find some control in her past. Her identity has, either at some pivotal, memorable point, or via a long, drawn out process more akin to a shrivelling fruit, dessicated. She has ‘kept on keeping on’, appearances maintained, engagements attended and smile firmly planted, as polished as her fingernails. Her physical and mental health has diminished, burnt-out, frequently poorly, with frequent new diagnoses, and less interest in doing fun things for fear of them being taken away too. She is not depressed, no, more numbed, capable on the outside, but crawling with lack on the inside. If you held a mirror between her public persona and her inner heart, the two would appear as complete opposites.
This weathered woman. Is she you? Do you feel ‘salted’ by life?
Repeat after me. There is no rush.
There is no rush.
There’s a round-up of the past fortnight in my little world below, audio, visual, practical. Take off your shoes and step into The Yoga Cabin. I’ll put the kettle on.
Playlist: Big Loud Feels
Short, full-throated, perfectly-loaded and packed with emotion, this quick burst 20 minute playlist will have your back when you’re feeling a wee bit angry and maybe low on energy. Throw everyone else out of the house for a while, shut your windows, turn up the volume…shout and scream and move. You’ll thank me later ;)
What I’ve been up to lately:
Q. What’s got you stressed out and feeling rushed?
(Optional add-ons: What can you do about it? How would you rather feel? Is there a bigger need at play?)
Creative conversations here are usually flowing and lively…so, the ‘Comments’ are open!
With salty love from the sea, and my cabin, from one weathered woman to another,
P.S Substack Notes is definitely good for one thing - restacks! You can ‘restack’ (share) this post on your own Notes feed by clicking the little circle arrow thingy below. I'm truly grateful.