Can you speak up and defend the right to your own rhythm?
It was a typical Aussie family holiday. Sea World on the Gold Coast in the 80s. The heady excitement of being a kid in an amusement park. Basking in the colour, the sounds, the buzz of adrenalin and the sugar highs of fairy floss.
There we stood. My mum, my sister and me. At the foot of the ride, anxiously looking up at it. The Pirate Ship.
We watched the huge ship swing back and forth, its inhabitants screaming with what I assumed to be delight, their hair flowing in the wind and the change falling out of their pockets.
My sister barely made the height restriction. I was tall enough, but I didn’t feel anywhere near brave enough. I was an anxious kid. Mum sensed my hesitancy.
“C’mon” she said, “it’s just a big swing.”
She smiled encouragingly and I looked up again at the ship as a pair of Oakley sunglasses dropped out of the sky.
I gulped. OK. A big swing. I can do this.
As the Ship began to swing mum gently patted one of my white-knuckled hands firmly gripping the safety bar.
“See – a swing. This is fun!”
I smiled meekly. I wasn’t convinced.
The Ship began to swing higher. And as my stomach began to drop to my feet and then rise up through my throat, my sister began to shriek with terror. The shrieking then turned into hysterical screaming. Mum began to hyperventilate.
At that moment, any solace that the comments “It’s just a big swing” had mustered up inside my anxiety-ridden body quickly dissipated along with my trust in adult rationalisations.
What happened next was a blur. But all I can remember is that the entire Pirate Ship had to come to a premature stop. My mum had screeched at the pimpled teenager manning the controls to “STOP THE RIDE WE NEED TO GET OFF!”
And so, an entire Pirate Ship full of amusement park revellers watched with non-ride-induced amusement as we awkwardly skulked off the ‘big swing’.
While highly embarrassing at the time, when I recall that memory now, I’m filled with awe, amazement, and pride for my beloved mother.
Over the course of my life, I could probably count the number of times on one hand that I’ve actually had the balls to stop something when I feel uncomfortable.
Stop the momentum of something because you feel uncomfortable?
Nope. Why would I do that?
That would just be C – R – A – Z – Y.
No, no, no.
It’s best to keep ‘soldiering on.’ Pushing on and pushing through until the discomfort reaches the epic heights of pure terror worthy of an amusement park ride.
I mean, hell, if I’m not anxious to the point of paranoia and exhausted to the point of throwing up then I’m not really living. Or worse, not trying hard enough.
I consider Chronic Fatigue Syndrome to be the elaborately sculpted monument I made to my lifelong habit of pushing on and pushing through. The inability to get off the big swing cost me, my health, my career, and many other things dearly. And although I’d not change the journey I’ve been on, I’m sure as hell hypervigilant about getting off the swing at the first sign of overwhelm.
Why is it that we find it so difficult to stop doing something when we’re not feeling great about it?
I’ve heard many a client confide how they went through with their wedding day when their intuition was screaming at them that it didn’t feel right.
I mean, that’s the ultimate, isn’t it?
“I’m not totally sure if I want to spend the rest of my life with this person…but we’ve paid for the catering, so I best just go along with it now.”
It seems that once we’re on the ride – whether that is a daunting project, a demanding workload, a challenging training regime, a dubious relationship, a risky business venture or even an unpalatable meal – there’s no turning back. We’ve become obsessed with achieving. Intent on the outcome. Addicted to being, doing or having more. Acutely aware of not wanting to be a quitter.
We seem to have developed an inability to stop. To slow down. To pause. To rest, relax and reflect.
Even when the momentum of our focused commitment begins to have negative consequences for our physical, mental, or emotional wellbeing.
Ultimately, if you were to ask me the number one reason at the root of most our problems, it would be this:
Living out of rhythm. Being out of flow.
We ignore our body’s impulses and signals. We don’t meet our needs. We repress our true desires.
Instead, we insist. On timelines. On results. On outcomes. On plans. On rules. On procedures.
Based on what? On ideas. On theories. On best practices. On ‘the science’. On the data. On the morning shows. On the ‘experts’. On anything else but the wisdom within our own body that is intimately connected with the wisdom of the cosmos.
And in doing so, we become so out of synch with our true nature, with our own body, that when a symptom shows up (due to living completely out of synch) we’re genuinely shocked. And we also feel powerless to it.
For the most part, we’re living life as if strapped into an amusement park ride, going at break-neck speed, anxious to the point of nausea, hanging on for dear life, and addicted to the adrenalin rush of it. All the while not exercising our power to get off the ride because we believe someone else is manning the controls.
Getting back in control of your own rhythm is one of the most important tasks to undertake if you’re serious about regaining your energy, your health, and your sanity. You need to know how to stop the madness of unchecked, unconscious energy expenditure.
If the ride is no longer fun, remember that no one else will stop it for you. Only you can attend to your body’s signals and needs. And sometimes, you’ll need the courage to speak up, to go against all the internal and external pressure to keep going at all costs. To honour the body’s need for rest, reflection, integration, and re-balancing and ultimately, to become the bold and empowered defender of your rhythm.
Want to know how to break the habit of exhaustion? Detox your subconscious resistance to rest in my new workshop. CHECK OUT THE ONLINE WORKSHOP HERE