This past week, I came down with a cold. I should say, I walked straight into a cold.
It was my brother’s 21st birthday and, as the great sister I am, I had to do as he wished. And what he wanted to do (like most 21-year-olds would) is go to Las Vegas and have the classic clubbing and gambling experience.
So I agreed and didn’t want to miss out on this birthday, but I knew the consequences of this. Late nights–literally staying up until 3am most nights, with one night being until 6am! It had been a while since I went to bed while the sun came up.
It also meant clubs full of other human beings traveling from all over to have a rager in Vegas, and likely there would be the few who may pass the seasonal cold along.
So, yep! As you’d expect, I got sick. I had a singing practice booked for the day I got back and had to cancel it.
There was a constant soreness in my throat and, therefore, it hurt to sing. I also was completely depleted in sleep, so I napped any opportunity I could get.
I was frustrated, though I had no right to really be because I knew this was bound to happen. But a small part of me was hoping I’d get lucky in Vegas–that I could leave Vegas sickness-free.
Yeah right!
So last week I was out. The goals I had for the week barely touched or pushed back. I started feeling quite upset with myself. I should have slept more. I could have eaten better. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone to the club.
As much as I enjoyed the time with my family, I was sad the result was that I lost my ability to sing and continue along with my projects and goals.
In these moments, it feels like, “Will I ever be able to sing again?” or “How long will it take to get back to where I was? Maybe it’ll take weeks or even a WHOLE month!” Those are the thoughts that start to race through, making me feel guilty for partying a little.
But I accepted there was nothing I could do except rest, hydrate, and be gentle with my voice.
As the days passed, I let go of the guilt and worry, and leaned into it. I listened to podcasts focused on growth and nutrition, I studied singing techniques and tips for recovery, and I watched documentaries and videos on how other artists create. In between all this, I slept. I made the most of the time.
One of the lessons I got out of all the information I collected over the week was “Breathe–find moments to breathe.”
I was watching a documentary on Jon Batiste (it’s very good–I recommend it, by the way, if you enjoy documentaries about artists’ life/journey/process). There was a moment he was sharing a piece he composed. He was getting feedback from his piano coach.
The melody flowed together, one note rolling straight into the next. The coach gave him the advice to “give it breath.”
Jon continued again and the coach instructed again, “More breath!”
He followed the instructor's direction and I immediately understood what the coach meant.
The piece came to life.
It felt human. It felt like it was speaking.
The piano coach shared how breath is important for the instrument, too. Saying things like, “It’s not a robot” and “It has emotion.” He said something along the lines of, “You need a moment to breathe because breathe brings in life. You want life.”
After laying on the sofa for hours, in and out of sleep, I needed to hear this. It hit something within me and gave me a moment to release the guilt and pressure I was feeling to heal faster–to just get better and move onto the next thing.
For some reason, I needed to hear that in order to be more gentle with myself.
I needed a moment to breathe because it's the breath that gives me life.
I am human. I fluctuate and am not always consistent. I have emotions and feelings, and sickness. I don’t always have to be switched on and be like a robot.
And one or two weeks of rest will not mess up my long-term goals.
We all need rest. We all need to breathe and stop for a moment. Give things a pause so we can feel. To check in with how we’re doing and feel our emotions.
After that, I lifted the pressure off myself. I reminded myself there was no rush to get back to 100% and my body and voice would take the time they needed.
As I got better and came out of the foggy, sleepy, heaviness of the sickness, I started to think about how else I need to breathe right now.
How else am I rushing from one thing to the next, not giving myself a pause to be, to feel, to take it in?
Work, writing, learning, relationship, cooking, reading, practicing creativity, cleaning, and on and on. My day was one thing to the next, trying to squeeze in all the goals I had and then being frustrated when I’d reach the end of the day and only accomplished a portion of what was on my list.
It just doesn’t feel good to always feel like you’re not doing enough and then not having a moment to even breathe between it all. It’s impossible.
So, as I’ve been recovering and slowly stepping back into my goals and tasks, I am taking on each thing with breath.
Starting with one thing at a time. What would I like to start my day with? I do it, then I breathe.
What would I like to do next? I take my time to do it, then I breathe. And so on.
I’ve found by just doing this for a few days, my day starts much more intentionally. I do what I truly feel after finishing a task. I will get to the things that I need to, but if I give myself a moment to breathe, I can really assess what I would like to do next–what my body and emotions are wanting.
I’ve spent more time sketching and doing creative exercises. I’ve spent more time practicing gentle singing warm ups as I’ve started to recover. I finally got back to writing my book.
I had been in and out of writing for the past few weeks, finding it difficult to focus. I had lost some momentum and any attempt I’d make to write would result in less than a thousand words–after slowly and strainfully pulling them out of me. Even though I loved what was unfolding and the story, I just wasn’t enjoying writing recently.
Everything leading up to this had been much more effortless, but I guess all the advice I’d read was true–for some writers, they get past the halfway point and it just gets harder to write. Finishing the book is hard. Even with everything mapped out, knowing what I want everything to be, getting out the last third of the book is feeling difficult at the moment.
But this week was a success! I took a moment to check in with myself and what I truly wanted, and what I got was, it’s time to write. I want to write. So I leaned into it.
I finally sat down and got over two thousand words out in one, normal length of time sitting. It took me the typical time it does, back to when I was in the flow.
I was so relieved. Feeling like it’d never come back–the same way I felt about my voice just days before.
This silly feeling that a skill or ability is gone forever just because you can’t do it at your fullest for a few days or few months even.
It will always come back. All that’s needed is time to breathe.
The time will always be different and look different for everyone, but it will always come back. I needed that reminder this past week and I needed to really practice being in it and experiencing it.
So, as my desire to write comes back and my voice returns, I move forward with my goals, but now with breath, pause, and reflection between each step.
Life will continue and move forward, but let it do so with breathe–with moments to breathe.
I hope you find moments to breathe today, bringing in more awareness to your feelings and emotions. Thank you for taking a moment from your day to read this. I hope it helps.
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