Don't stop this train
Bouncing back with amazing messages of support
I suppose the first lesson of over-sharing ones trials and tribulations on social media is understanding the jigsaw effect of a headline and a photo placed together..
A lot of people only have time for the top line, and so posting a picture of me in hospital alongside the words “Hitting a Wall” would obviously lead to some not wholly accurate conclusions being drawn.
Quite a few people now think I’ve had some kind of coronary as opposed to a colon-ary.
Hitting the wall
The hospital-bed picture captured by Ana who was first on the his and hers colonoscopy train and therefore the first to wake, does look pretty bad on reflection.
I profess to being physically fine (at least until the recent routine blood test results come back and inform me otherwise) and it’s been more of a mental meltdown...and even that is “more blue than black” to quote one of the amazing responses to my last despatch.
Writing about the Downs rather than the Ups was in itself very therapeutic because it became a self-diagnostic process of putting into words what was going on.
Why was I so grumpy – angry – de-motivated, unproductive, lazy and in such a slump?
Well, the top three candidates are:
a delayed reaction to being de-institutionalised from a personally-defining career;
prioritising finishing things rather than thinking them through properly;
and taking on too much with a cloak of invincibility disguising a need to be busy.
It’s all things the wonderful Ana has been saying for ages, but you sometimes don’t see the hive for all the bees when it comes to those closest to you and who bear the brunt of it all.
Once I’d finally managed to formulate my thoughts through writing, we were able to chat it all through on a long drive to Évora in the baking hot Alentejo interior for a meeting and reflect on structure, realistic ambitions and ways to keep level-headed.
As we drove, and the thermometer started to rise, an amazing barrage of brilliant messages started to arrive from every which way – only a few of them wondering if I was at death’s door!
And it’s been the responses to my warts-and-all post about the trickier side to paradise in Portugal which been a huge lift.
Thank you to everyone who shared their own stories or similar experiences, wonderful words of encouragement, smart thoughts on how to get back up to full speed...and one extremely entertaining forwarded email on what to expect from your first colonoscopy (sadly a little late).
My despatch seems to have resonated with many people from many different places and it generated all sorts of messages of advice and encouragement, some of which I’d like to share – because they’re brilliant and they help.
The first, and most important entry belongs to Ana and was posted on the 11th anniversary of our second wedding which was in Northumberland (we’ve had three weddings...without any separations in between!).
We took ourselves off to our favourite crab-staurant (as Oda calls it) for the best sapateiras in town and one of our favourite fresh Alentejo white wines (Vidigueira Antão Vaz).
We moved on to the wild Aniversário Beach for a dip and then dropped into a couple of the beach bars on our way home as tourist season has clearly started heating up along our coastline.
Ana started her post on Facebook with a song:
Super trouper beams are gonna blind me
But I won't feel blue
Like I always do
'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you.
And went on to explain: “Eleven years ago we were married for the second time to the words of ABBA, uttered by beloved superstar Matthew Price.
“I remember having picked some crusty old poem for the ceremony and was (joyfully) surprised at this choice of lyrics at the altar - and boy, were they better.
“I am so happy to be married to my incredible force of nature husband. Super Trouper indeed - come rain and shine.”
Thank you my love – it was a great anniversary and we’ll make this work because we’re stronger together than the sum of our separate parts.
I was grateful for the kind words from my former colleague Fergal Keane who shared my post and helped bring a flurry of messages from ex-BBC folk and those leaving long careers who have also been through the de-institutionalisation process.
One of the first to come in was this:
“As I opened your post, I’d just read this Nietzsche quote (not something I’ve ever said before and I’m aware how it sounds but please bear with me, it’s in Oliver Burkeman’s brilliant book Four Thousand Weeks): ‘we labour at our daily work more ardently and thoughtlessly than is necessary to sustain our life because to us it is even more necessary not to have leisure to stop and think. Haste is universal because everyone is in flight from himself.’”
There were thanks for “putting it out there,” one of my friends associated with “the challenges of settling into the rhythm of not having a rhythm,” and there was the reflection: “we’ve all been brainwashed to work all the time and feel guilty when we don’t.”
One friend added: “I’m in the same boat and it’s shit,” and another said “Seriously you are not alone in this space or rabbit hole right now – recently someone sent me a quote that took my breath away as I saw how everything we were doing seemed stuck and heavy and impossible, and the past felt safe:
“She turned and looked at her old life one more time
Whispered I will never see you again
I do have a new life to be lived
She took a deep breath and walked towards all that waited & needed her.”
A good suggestion was that “a smaller to do list might be healthier” and there was a fabulous comment which cut through all the noise to remind me that tensioning sails for a car cover was physics rather than maths.
I think the key take-aways are more structure and understanding there's a long game here, not just a series of short sprints.
I shouldn't really be complaining with all the beauty around us...I think I got a little bout of tunnel vision, so I’m now in reset mode and hoping to re-boot stronger.
But one of the biggest lifts has been spending time with our great friends Lotti & Andriy and their wonderful girls Sasha and Katya who are staying with us.
We’ve been showing off some of the amazing beaches which I wrote about last year and I’ve been trying WFB (Working From Beach), but their energy and enthusiasm for our project and their encouragement that we are creating something special has been priceless.
We have an ambitious vision, but one we now have to speed towards. I think we will return to it in a few weeks after our little holiday reinvigorated for a crucial stage of the project.
My only concern is building is the easy bit...running the place (and making it pay) is going to be even more complicated!
I think I just need to take it a little easier on myself and go with the flow...use this time for learning and readjusting.
And to sum it all up, Andriy & Sasha – wonderful musicians that they are – performed an amazing version of John Mayer’s song Stop this Train.
It’s worth reading all the lyrics but in summary, it’s about life speeding up as you get older.
Stop this train
I want to get off and go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in
I know I can't
But honestly, won't someone stop this train?
Then John Mayer’s “old man” gives the advice:
"Don't stop this train
Don't for a minute change the place you're in
And don't think I couldn't ever understand
I tried my hand
John, honestly we'll never stop this train"
And in the end it’s hard to know whether it’s resignation, acknowledgement or embracing life for what it is...I’m going to go with the latter.
'Cause now I see, I'm never gonna stop this train.
She turned and looked at her old life one more time
Whispered I will never see you again
I do have a new life to be lived
She took a deep breath and walked towards all that waited & needed her.”
Beautifully sums up where we are, in these different boats on the same bobbing sea.
Regarding time and its apparent speed you are correct. Its pace of passing does appear to increase. My wife Jennie says after February summer seems to rapidly appear with apparently no time between.
Regarding the "wall" I fully sympathise; three months of builders, painters, sparkies et al was enough for us.
Try to break down your tasks into manageable pieces and take time out to reset. Experience tells me you can't do everything at once.
Take care and all the best.