what do we wrap ourselves with when we're not well?
what can we witness while we wait?
a song speaking to my soul
words that made their way to me
this Sunday i woke up in a fatigue flare (i’m sure i’ll share more about my chronic illness in a Substack someday). my body felt like a bag of bricks, a feeling i’m far too familiar with + still find myself frequently frustrated by. fatigue is a sign it’s time to rearrange my day.
i laid in bed, attempting to rest. i was really just ruminating-the grief of chronic pain shows up so unexpectedly (similar to other grief). my rumination wasn’t giving me what i wanted, it was making my day worse. so with my whirlwind of worry, frustration, + grief, i decided taking myself on a walk in the woods would be kind.
Saturday my soul felt so close, seeming steadily present. Sunday i rose without a sense of stillness. anxiety attacked every avenue i tried to turn toward. worry was washing away my day + i didn’t want it to have the final say. i spent time watching out our bedroom window, noticing creation choosing to show up in the ways that worked right then, and i decided i would too.
Sunday looked different than i dreamed. i had to cancel all my plans + take more time than i’d like to listen to my needs. i laid in bed til noon + then decided my rumination wanted to wander through the woods with me. i was searching for sabbath while i wandered. i was searching for my soul that seemed to slip away. i was searching for the sense of safety my body needs, a sign that i am seen.
i walked into the woods + asked the trees + sun to speak to me. i let myself wonder what i want to wrap myself with while i feel unwell. i asked myself to explore what wonderful things i can witness while i wait for healing to happen. within the woods, i was welcomed by more than the sun + trees.
i wrapped myself with the trees. they caught me crying + comforted me with compassion. the trees reminded me we can still breathe when we don’t look like we’re alive. the trees reminded me i am still worthy, even when i don’t feel well.
i wrapped myself with the sun. she showed me the path back to my soul. its rays washed away the worry weighing on my day.
i wrapped myself with the sky. it reminded me i once again will look alive. AND it will take time. the sky shared with me its shimmers-the places the sun comes from.
i witnessed the birds. they brought me back to my body, inviting me to dance + sing, amid my sorrow + grief.
i witnessed the fish. they felt like forever friends, not frightened by my fears.
i witnessed the stream. the stream soothed my scurrying mind, taking away my shame. its silence invited me to stay still + listen to what love wants to speak to me. i noticed the nudge to remain quiet, believing it’s okay if i have nothing to say and a whole lot i sense.
i walked in the woods with the wounded parts of my heart. i figured if i’m afraid of them, it might be time to make space for them to feel safe + seen. i wandered with my weary heart. i roamed with my ruminating brain.
while we walked i talked to each piece. i reminded them i wouldn't walk away this time. i turned towards the shame of consistently canceling plans to meet my current needs. i turned towards the frustration + furry for my fatigue. i walked with my wondering of all the uncertainty i’m facing. i explored the emotion i felt arise when i need to pause my productivity + prioritize even more rest.
and friend, you’ll never believe- i felt seen. when i searched for the safety my body spoke of, i found so many hurting + honest parts of my heart. each piece so longed to be seen (and still does!). i trusted my intuition to lead me to the space that would help me feel safe + seen. i discovered a doorway to delight when i wrapped myself with things that help me feel safe + seen. i found a well of wonder when i witnessed what was before me (in the woods + in my mind).
i found that the forest fights for our freedom. the woods want us to witness our wounds + wrap them with wonder while we wait to feel well. the woods want us to wander as long as it takes for us to feel safe + seen. the sun steadies us in our searching. the trees tell us to take all that we need.
on Sunday i wrapped myself with the woods while i felt unwell. i clung to the geese + the stream (metaphorically!) while i waited to feel well. my fatigue + pain didn’t magically dissipate, but i found my faith. creation spoke to me that faith is often found when we witness our wounds + choose to compassionately care for them. the rest of this week i’ve been been gently asking, “ what will you wrap yourself with when you feel unwell? what will you witness while you wait?” there’s so much we can’t control in our lives + it’s easy to forget what great resources we can choose to use to honor our humanness. i hope my sacred experience this week welcomes you to wonder about what you will wrap yourself with when you don’t feel well.
presence through pictures
a blessing for our being
blessed are we, trying our best.
to keep up, catch up, stay at a steady pace.
may we receive grace.
may we remember rest is
not something to neglect.
when we feel fatigued,
for whatever reason it may be,
may we wrap ourselves
in kind compassion
and receive the rest we need.
blessed are we feeling
impatient while we wait.
may we witness an abundance of
glory and goodness
in this liminal place.
may our impatience invite us
to imagine what is still to come.
as we show up for ourselves again,
awaken in us awe at what already is.
what sparked your soul
i’d love to hear what surfaced for you while you were reading. did you notice something new? remember something significant? if you are interested and able, i’d love for you to share your thoughts in the comments!
This was exactly what I needed, Hannah. I have been in a similar place these past few weeks, trying to figure out what my body and soul most need and how I can give them those things, while also trying it resist the temptation to distract myself from what is hurting inside, physically and emotionally, through things that drain my energy but I've told myself aren't necessary, like responding to every email, taking care of health-related paperwork and other tasks that really could wait... Thank you for being wisdom and guide as you, two, seek what it is you need when illness takes away.