Two Thousand Steps Before Dawn

On falling apart and putting myself back together at the same time - by Nicole Cody

Streaky dawn light and stormclouds at the Treehouse.

Hello, friends.

Yesterday morning I dug deep. Deeper than I usually have to dig. As I sat on the edge of the bed in my pyjamas I had the realisation that I needed to build myself back up, even as I was breaking down. That I could be falling apart and putting myself back together simultaneously. It was a combination of absolute bone crushing despair, and that steely optimism which lives in my heart.

Right now I’m facing huge challenges, some of which I can’t fix. Some of which are generating massive uncertainty in my life. On top of my chronic illness. On top of my recent symptom flares and complications caused by medications meant to save my life. I’m so exhausted by it all. Part of me wants to just lie down and give up.

So, yesterday morning I cried for a bit. Because I needed to feel my feelings and get the tears done first.

It all felt too much. It is too much. It’s too many things. (And please, don’t trot out that bullshit about God never giving you more than you can handle. If that’s your favourite line, you have obviously never been challenged that hard. Some of us are not really handling our current realities – we’re just turning up each day, battered and bruised, because there isn’t an alternative.)

After my crying jag I pulled myself together, chuckled at my puffy face in the bathroom mirror and said what I always do. “Come on, Nic. You can do this.”

Because I know that even in the middle of all this crap, I have to do what I can to endure it, and come out the other side somehow. That’s up to me. There is no one riding in to save me, there is no one who has the capacity to fix everything, and I’m not done. Speaking kindly and encouraging myself is an important part of the process. And the wise part of me really does believe in me. I need to listen to her more when I get into that downtrodden space.

So, I decided to start where I found myself.

It’s something I come back to over and over again. Start where you are. Do something small.

Turn up again tomorrow and do one more small thing.

Even impossible things can be done.

Even impossible things are survivable.

For me, yesterday, it was walking laps of my bedroom at 5.30am while reading a book instead of crawling back between the covers. I managed two thousand steps. Gentle steps, but still… I was moving my body. That felt do-able. And when I was done, I felt a tiny bit better.

Nothing else had changed. My world was still chaos and pain. But me? I had done one small thing to shore myself up. I then backed it up with a healthy breakfast, before triaging my day and working out what I could realistically do given my current exhaustion.

Where did I find it within me to do that, when I felt so broken down and defeated?

It’s a muscle I’ve built up over time, based on something I was gifted as a child. Please accept it as my gift to you. I hope it helps.

Let me explain.

I was given an autograph book for my seventh birthday. My Great-Aunt Gwen wrote in it ‘If it’s to be, it’s up to me.’ and told me that a wise old friend had written that in her autograph book when she was a child.

When I asked her what it meant, she told me that we all have strength within us, but it’s deep down, and sometimes that strength gets covered up by bad feelings like failure, fear, loneliness or sadness, or from other people telling us we aren’t good enough. It was up to me to dig down past those feelings and find my grit, because the feelings wouldn’t last, and they would leave me faster if I took responsibility for my own happiness.

Aunt Gwen instilled in me that I could do anything, or at least make things better than they were, if only I put my mind to it. I believed her, and that has made all the difference. Because I tested it out. And she was right.

We can all do hard things.

We can survive what we think is the unsurvivable.

Aunt Gwen did. She lost her true love in World War One, and remained single for the rest of her life. She found ways to do things for herself, and on her own, and crafted a remarkable and rich life.

I used her words to help me when I was bullied at primary school, when my parents divorced, when I encountered failures or disappointed myself. I used her words to get me through so many hard things. I used her words to motivate me when I needed to push outside my comfort zone. And as a shy introvert, that has been often!

My optimism isn’t toxic positivity. No. It’s the absolute belief that I will get through things and out the other side. Or that I’ll find a way to stay present, despite how hard things become. Because staying present and being in the moment is how we get through those hard things.

Life has shown me that two opposing states can co-exist within me.

What really brought that home to me was an event some years ago - the evening I expected to die. I was suffering from a hospital-acquired superbug UTI that was not responsive to antibiotics. As we moved to the drugs of last resort all our hope drained away. They didn’t work. We were out of options. In the night the doctor on shift spoke with me, and encouraged me to write a will. I fully expected that sunrise would be my last day on earth. I was flooded with regret and despair. But then, as the sun rose I was overwhelmed with peace at the beauty and wonder of the world. I looked out over a field of golden sunflowers at first light, and something shifted inside me. I have never forgotten that feeling of being eternal and energetically connected to all things, knowing only a state of love.

And then, by some miracle, I didn’t die.

You’d think after an experience like that (and I’ve been on death’s door several times) that life would be a bed of roses. But I’m still human.

Life still has the capacity to bring me to my knees. Even if only momentarily.

Yesterday I was despairing. I am still despairing. But I can also feel calm. I can also feel love. I can also feel hope. At the same time.

I can build myself up even as I am falling apart. From day to day and hour to hour the scale may tip more to despair or more to hope. I try not to let that unbalance me. What matters is that I keep my eyes facing forward, that I rest where I must, but that I keep trying, heart open, and don’t give up.

‘If it’s to be, it’s up to me’ was never a lightweight affirmation. For me, it has always been a reminder that while I can’t control what happens, I can choose how I meet it.

I’ve had people tell me that they struggle with being in the middle of hard, or supporting someone else through a hardship, and then feeling a moment of happiness, or joy, or wonder. Their guilt can be extreme, as if they are betraying the situation, or a relationship, or themselves.

But how can you get through all that darkness if you don’t learn to carry your own inner light?

Wherever you might find yourself today, and no matter what you are facing, know that there is a strength within you, just waiting to be revealed.

I believe in you, and I’m sending so much love, Nicole xx