To See Myself

Describe one simple thing you do that brings joy to your life.

There are some days when I get into a funk. When I allow things to get on top of me.

Responsibilities, commitments, inadequacies. Boredom, shame, guilt.

This is when I know I need to get into my body and get into a loving relationship with self. I need to silence the crap rolling around in my head about my self and this world we live in and start loving on myself.

Taking myself on a Photowalk outside as well as inside brings me joy.

The act of moving and recording it, making a record of it brings me right back into the present and helps me to realise what a blessing life really is.

A life not to be wasted away on useless, soul destroying negative self- talk and that crippling sense of failure.

Nah looking myself in the eyes and still being able to smile at myself for myself brings me joy.!

Rest is a Revolution

How do you know when it’s time to unplug? What do you do to make it happen?

When I start avoiding people. Start avoiding those conversations, connections with other people. Not being able to muster the energy to just look someone in the eye, I know it is time to unplug, unwind and retreat.

When my mind becomes a jumbled mess of to-dos, guilt-tripping myself galore with feelings of not being good enough. Then I know it is time to unplug, unwind and retreat.

When I no longer receive pleasure from the things I love to do, like writing, creating, eating. {BEING}. I know then, time to step away from the tasks, the commitments, the noise, the violence and the ruin and hide.

Stop. Breathe. Lick wounds. Apply water inside and out. And come back to centre. My centre. Me, being just me.

No actions or words in attempt to prove myself. No singing and dancing routine to grab your attention. Nothing wise or in service here.

Just someone unplugging from the system unsure whether or not she wants to plug back in on someone else’s terms.

Capitalism Fatigue

No amount of pampering can cure or stop that slow soul death I experienced being part of the system. Being a secondary English teachers within capitalism.

I was indoctrinated early to believe my worth was equal to how hard I worked. Even with a young son, I world get up early drop him off at nursery early to get into school extra early and be unpaid. I would work the full school day and stay late and be unpaid. And not complain. To then pick up my son late and spend very little time with him before bed and then I would work late into the night, marking and creating schemes of work and again all unpaid. And then repeat it all again for days, weeks, months and years.

“This is a Eurocentric, deeply white supremacist way of thinking and it is straight and ableist. It does not consider someone’s mental, physical, and emotional capabilities. … It does not consider offering space to dream, create, or simply partake in a longer lunch or even a nap.” Jennifer Mullan, Decolonizing Therapy.

I would do extra work, take on extra responsibilities, make sure I was seen being the ‘good’ teacher and look how good I am at handling pressure because I believed this is how I could prove that I was enough, I was good enough.

And there wasn’t just those internal pressures but there was also that external pressure that would flatter and coax and demand and make me feel that I wasn’t doing enough or that I was needed even more and only I could solve this problem or issue or be the one to stay late and sort it out.

I couldn’t rest and I shouldn’t rest and if I was feeling burnt out it was my fault. I should learn to manage my time better, eat better, do less and take care of myself. But how can you do that within a system which doesn’t allow it? That just keeps on rolling and takes you along with it through desire or force? I couldn’t afford to work less, to drop responsibilities as I needed the money to keep the roof over our heads, food on the table and clothes on our backs. Earning just enough to live from one pay check to the next. I felt trapped. I was trapped. Until I broke.

I got sick. Took time off. And stepped away. Self-care wasn’t the cure for burnout but it helped for a time as it gave me the time and space and clarity to realise that I wasn’t the problem. My burnout and breakdown wasn’t my fault. The problem was deeper than me. The root of the problem was the school, the education system, the businesses, the organisations, the media, the policies, the rules and expectations that kept me working to exhaustion, stressing about not doing enough, tired and struggling and giving more of my time and energy and heart to strangers than my own son.

“You cannot self-care or self-love your way out of systematic oppression.” Jennifer Mullan, Decolonizing Therapy.

I agree, however, I would argue that leaning more into self-care with slowing down and rest and learning to love myself through my reconnection with nature, did and continues to do so, provide the space and time and energy to question my conditioning, to agitate the ways things have always been done within capitalism, colonialism and patriarchy, to recognise the dehumanising, extractive and exploitative systems that are fixing to kill us and attempt to do something to stop it.

I continue on this path of decolonisation by starting with myself.