Learning to really, truly slow down

The last few years have been a ride.

When I started this Substack (all two posts of it) back in 2022, I’d just moved back from New Zealand after living there for three years (including over the pandemic). My partner James and I were living in Bristol, a city that was relatively new to me, and I was already missing the soaring landscapes and easy-going culture of our lives on the other side of the world. The plan was to write about creative living and slow adventures in and around the UK, as I settled back into life here.

After a few months working part-time in a wonderful, sustainable home & design store, while also seeking freelance photography work, it quickly became clear that between the cost of living in Bristol and the slow journey to building my UK clients back up, what I really needed was to find something full-time. Thanks to some fortunate timing and a history of working in social media marketing, I found a role that was the most perfect blend of my skillset and interests that I could’ve asked for.

The only issue was, I knew traditional office work wasn’t right for me. It never has been. But I pushed that aside and told myself I was being silly. It would be different this time. And besides, I needed to rebuild my quickly dwindling savings.

So I threw everything into this new role. I worked hard, I learned so much, and I said yes to everything that came my way. Between the office-based tasks, the job involved frequently travelling around the UK, which I loved, and gathering photo and video content in remote places, which I loved even more. For a while, I really thought it was going well, and I could see myself doing this for a long time.

But I kept getting sick.

I had covid at least three times in that first year that we were back in the UK. Maybe more. The first, in particular, really knocked the wind out of my sails. I can remember landing in the UK and feeling so full of motivation to get my creative work back in motion. I had so many ideas, so much I wanted to do. In hindsight, a lot of it was probably adrenaline-fuelled and I was bound to slow down eventually, but what came next really threw me.

After over a week of deliriously moving from the bed to the sofa and barely functioning, I thought I was probably over that first covid infection. But all my energy and drive had gone. I felt flat, drained of energy. I told myself I was just being lazy, but looking back now I suspect it was the post-viral fatigue that characterises Long Covid and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (also known as M.E.).

Anyway, back to the job.

I was settling into my new role. I was giving it my all. But every couple of months or so, I’d be off with what felt like the most draining flu. A couple of times, I tested positive for covid. Whether the other times were different infections or the result of just a deeply overrun nervous system, I’ll never really know. I started to get some weird symptoms - a throbbing in my head; a pulsing, whooshing sound in my ears; heart palpitations; brain fog and forgetfulness. There were a few weeks for which the side of one of my toes was completely, and inexplicably, numb. And, of course, a constant feeling of exhaustion. I ignored it all and pushed on.

While the plan had been originally to continue doing freelance photography alongside this job, I soon found I had absolutely no energy left for it. Or for anything vaguely creative, for that matter. I found myself wondering how anyone, ever, managed to have a sidehustle. I told myself, again, that I must just be lazy.

Eventually, I worked up the courage to see my GP and tell them I thought something was wrong. The first doctor I saw told me I was fine, a second said it was probably anxiety. They ran some blood tests, everything came back normal, and that was that.

But I kept getting sick, I kept getting exhausted. I struggled to do anything outside of work, and in time, I struggled to even work. We moved into a new house - the first house James and I have ever owned together - almost a year ago now, and at the same time I moved to a new GP, who was so much more helpful. Thanks to her, I was eventually referred to a specialist who suspected I had Long Covid/CFS. It felt so good to be listened to, and to begin to put a name to what had been going on.

After struggling to keep up at work for so long, I realised that if I was ever going to heal, I needed to give myself the chance to properly rest. To let my nervous system recover. So I handed in my notice. It was a big scary decision, but 100% the right one for me. While there were so many things I loved about that role, I never fully settled into the corporate way of working. I’ve tried so many times, in different jobs, and different companies - in different countries, even - to make a 9-5 work. But I just don’t think it’s how I’m built. Something about it seems to have my nervous system on edge at all times; the people pleaser in me so desperate for everything I do not only to be right, but perfect. Which is, of course, impossible. And then the overwhelm sets in.

I realise, as I write this, that being able to choose to step away from a job in order to take time to heal comes with a huge amount of privilege.

I was, and am, so lucky to have a home that I own, some savings to speak of, and a partner able to help support me. Yes, we’ve had some big, unexpected costs since we’ve moved in, but we’re okay.

And slowly, I think, I’m healing.

Spend some time looking into Long Covid and CFS (which are really two sides of the same coin), and you’ll find that a lot of people who’ve recovered talk about healing their nervous system. There’s a lot of other factors that can affect things - diet, supplements, gut health, mould infections - and, sadly, a lot of people never fully heal. But working on a calm, stable nervous system really does seem the best way to give yourself a fighting chance. So that’s what I’m focussing on, for now.

It’s been 3 months since I left my job, and while healing is a slow, unsteady journey, I’m already starting to feel so much more like myself. I’ve started doing photography for fun again. I’ve taken pottery classes, which bring me so much joy. And I’ve rested. I’ve rested so much.

The fear of being unproductive, of watching my savings run down again, is very real. But I know now that when I return to work, it has to be in a way that’s sustainable for me.

The irony that I’ve written so much in the past (mainly on Instagram) about the joys and importance of slow living & slow travel, only to have been forced to slow down more than I could’ve ever imagined, is not lost on me. What’s that quote about being dealt the same lesson in life until you finally learn from it?

If you’ve made it through this accidentally gargantuan essay, thank you so much for taking the time to read the ramblings of a still-quite-brain-fogged mind. I’ve put off writing about all of this for so long that, when I finally sat down at my computer, it all just poured out of me. It might be more detail than anyone really needs to know, but I really believe in the importance of talking about conditions like Long Covid/CFS, which are often so hidden.

And if you’ve been through or are currently going through something similar, please know that you are not alone.

Helen x