The Month I Did Nothing
Let go. Trust the Process. Repeat.
I went into June with a full plan: write more, get my book proposal out to agents, show up more on social media, and get on track for 2025.
Better late than never, I was ready.
But then I fell at the first hurdle.
THE BODY SAYS NO!
2025 has been filled with twists and turns so far. We’ve somehow ended up as proxy parents to two young lads in their twenties, which has been great, but it’s also meant that all plans have gone completely up the spout. One came to live with us in February, the other just after Easter. So, by the end of May, I began to worry that the year was slipping through my fingers and decided I’d try to get a little more focused on work than I’d been able to thus far. I made a plan of action for June, but hot on the heels of its arrival, along came a nasty bout of COVID, followed by a throat infection that knocked me sideways.
Plans? Out the window.
Energy? Gone.
Voice? Nada.
I tried to push through at first, but it was like the Monty Python scene with the three knights. Eventually, I had to cave.
Recovery has been slow, but I’m finally feeling more human. I’ll be back on TV later this week after nearly three weeks off. You’d think that was a blessing with all this weather, and usually I love the sun, but not this time. Again, the body said no.
But once I gave in and realised I needed to rest and recharge, I actually enjoyed it. I stepped back from the plans and the shoulds. And it was divine.
Literally divine.
“Divine,” at its essence, means god-like. And whether you believe in God, or a god-like being, or the universe, or the divine, the general rule of thumb is that ‘it’ is life-giving. And June has been exactly that, despite the lurgies and feeling flat as a pancake, it’s been life-giving in unexpected ways. I’ve done a lot of chilling, thinking, and hanging out with the twenty-somethings, including my two, now they’re back from uni.
Yesterday, my daughter took me for an afternoon at the spa, which was such a treat. It was so good to have some girl time together as we’re rather outnumbered at home at the moment! We spent an hour in the wet spa (not exactly sauna weather, but we braved it anyway!)
We were then given a red-light rejuvenating treatment, and afterwards spent another hour with the healing singing bowls and gongs. I’ve heard about them before and always thought they sounded a bit gimmicky, but flip, was I wrong. It was actually really relaxing!
We began seated on floor mats in a yoga pose, taking long breaths in and out. The woman guiding the session was intense. Her intonation on inHAAAAALE and EHHXhaaaaale was honestly comical, and as usual, I was in the back row stifling giggles, daring not to look at my daughter—she’s the sensible one and would’ve shot me a look telling me to behave. So I dug deep, kept a straight face, and breathed my way through the dramatic chanting.
Then came the bowls.
At first, I couldn’t relax because I was sneaking glances, trying to figure out how on earth she was making those incredible sounds. But once my curiosity was satisfied, I let go.
And boy, did I. I even snored at one point - just as I saw my two children appearing as their younger selves dressed as fairies, inside the trunk of a tree.
What was that about? Rebirth? Nostalgia? Or just my subconscious asking for a Disney+ subscription?
Trust the Process
At the beginning of the session, she told us to let go and trust the process.
As I lay there, surrounded by sound bowls and imaginary tree fairies, I couldn’t help thinking about a conversation I’d had the day before with one of our proxy sons. I’d said the exact same thing. Trust the process.
We were talking about different decades of life, and how the twenties can be both thrilling and brutal, especially today, with so much pressure to have everything figured out.
I’ve had lots of conversations with young adults recently, and so many of them believe they should be on the property ladder and solidly in their career of choice by their mid-twenties. Otherwise, they feel like they’ve failed.
It’s ludicrous.
I didn’t buy my first house until I was in my thirties, and I’m still working out my career path.
I explained how important it is to allow time to do its thing. Get the degree. Don’t worry about what’s next until you’re closer to that point. Take one step at a time - all the obvious stuff we say but forget to actually do. Or, in the words of
- follow your curiosity.I regularly have to remind myself that trusting the process applies at every stage of life. It was the same with the bowls: my cynicism and giggles gave way to a deep, relaxed state that left me feeling grounded and peaceful.
It’s been the same with being ill. I had to stop, let go, and let my body heal. And interestingly, during that downtime, my creative juices started bubbling again. I always forget that happens! Once I was relaxed, I had a whole load of ideas about bringing the podcast back, so I’m putting that on the back burner for now, letting it simmer for a while.
And honestly? The world in July looks more or less the same as it did in June. I haven’t missed a thing—well, apart from the London to Brighton bike ride, which I was gutted about. But there’ll be others.
The Tortoise Was Right
One of my favourite books as a child was Aesop’s Fables. He was born a slave and died a philosopher and has to be one of history’s most intriguing figures.
I’ve always been one to charge ahead, have goals, live by lists, and tick the boxes, and there’s a time and place for that to be an incredibly helpful habit. But more and more, I’m learning that time rather than speed is our greatest asset. It’s not about some perfect cosmic timing or a wand being waved in the sky. It’s just that some things take time to become. Including us.
So I’m moving into July with less of a master plan, and more of a reminder:
I exist within a body that knows what it needs.
A mind that’s learning to listen.
And a heart that’s perfectly happy taking the scenic route.
The tortoise was right all along.
…not that it’s a race. Of course.