How to keep breathing while drowning

Essential shortcuts for mental health ✌️

On the day I gave birth, I called in sick. I remember it vividly. At 41 weeks and a handful of days pregnant, I made my way up our spiral staircase in our Bondi apartment, and called in sick to tell them I wouldn’t make it, I was having a baby.

I’ve only had one other sick day in my 44 years other than that. I was so unwell I couldn’t walk, so I crawled on my hands and knees to our home phone, called my beautiful boss (one of the top barristers in the country - I was his Nanny) and told him I wouldn’t be able to make it in. I was racked with guilt, and stomach pains, and so badly just wanted to get on with getting on, but I couldn’t. So I stayed home.

I have good girl tendencies. If I see a boundary, I’ll stay within it. If enough people say that something is the right thing to do, well then I do it. If I’m meant to be at work, then I go to work. If I read enough times that we’re meant to walk 10,000 steps a day, it becomes the exercise benchmark. Pap smears every two years? Check. Skin checks yearly? Done. Dentist bi-yearly? Sorted. Fast fashion = bad. Disposable anything = disgusting. Simple? Right?

It started with the 10,000 steps. I read a quote, “10,000 steps a day = 70 marathons a year! Never underestimate the power of small habits.”

I shared it on my Facebook, and somebody pushed back on it, suggesting that it shouldn’t be the goal or the norm… just moving should be. I sat (ironically) with that for a while, and stopped counting daily steps ever since. Pressure, gone. Joy, renewed.

Slowly I started looking at things differently. A big shift came with my own daughter and school, where I had tried to toe the line with the expectations I’d created in my own head, when I stopped and thought, “Maybe this isn’t how it has to be.”

The shift was momentous, and almost physical. What was a core belief (that we should go to school everyday, finish year 12, and head into adulthood), was suddenly turned upside down. I realised there are other ways.

With rigid rules and expectations, comes resistance. Because it doesn’t always feel good. The school, of course, is an extreme example, but when I let go of the 10,000 steps ideal… I felt free. Free from guilt and disappointment for the days I didn’t make 10k. Freedom to move and walk as I pleased. 

I’ve been listening to an audio book by KC Davis, How to keep house while drowning (recommended by a beautiful reader when I shared I had been diagnosed with ADHD), and it was the most beautiful, non-rigid way to look at life. If I could sum it up in one word; Gentle.

It was a 3 hour long permission slip to exist and be, with an extra serving of compassion (while also giving really practical advice on how to keep house while drowning in mental health, grief, neurodiversity, or just living an overwhelmed life). 

KC’s approach to housekeeping (and life) is ‘whatever works for you’ rather than one blanket rule for all. 

If you can’t fold your clothes, basket them. If you can fold them, go for it. If you’re struggling to brush your teeth each day, buy pre-pasted toothbrushes (who knew they existed?). If you clean your wardrobe and can’t manage to get the bags to the charity bin, you can bin them once in a while.

KC says, “You are not responsible for saving the world if you are struggling to save yourself. If you must use paper plates for meals or throw away recycling in order to gain better functioning you should do so. When you are healthy and happy you will gain the capacity to do real good for the world. In the meantime, your job is to survive.”

A while back I put a pause on volunteering each week, something that hurt my heart to do, but was breaking me to do each week among the load I was carrying. I gave myself permission to step back. Listening to KC’s words were validating. We can’t save the world when we are saving ourselves (and in my case, my daughter as well).

I reached under the sink, to the pack of disposable kitchen wipes that had been sitting there for a few months, a PR gift I’d received and deemed not environmentally-friendly so tossed for ‘one day’. (And by the way I am no environmental angel).

I started using them. Because sometimes the barrier to a clean bench is retrieving the wet cloth from the sink, while gagging in the process. This, I tell you, was oddly freeing. It simplified the task, and got the job done. A win for me, while drowning in a chaotic home.

Last month, I took my third ever sick day. Working freelance means that if I don’t work, I don’t get paid. After months of blurred working hours, weekends at my laptop, early mornings and late nights when I could keep my eyes open, and increasing anxiety… I called (well, emailed) in sick. I gave notice, of course, and asked, rather than demanded… and I took the day off.

Well, I asked for a half a day, and my beautiful boss said, “I’ve got this. Take the whole day.”

I wasn’t racked in guilt, or shame for breaking my own rules. I rested. I reveled in the sunlight and just stopped.

And the world didn’t end. I managed to keep breathing, while drowning.