Slowing Down & What It’s Taught Me
Slowing down to smell the roses wasn’t my choice. Thanks to Madoff, the lesion on my pons, I can’t walk quickly anymore, move quickly, get up quickly…I have to do everything slowly, only as fast as the signals can get past my brain lesion. Some days are worse than others.
Today, I was feeding Calvin. Calvin is my sourdough starter, and we’ve known each other a long time. He lives in my fridge and I feed him once a week or more often if we’re going to be doing some baking.
Feeding a sourdough starter just consists of adding equal amounts of flour and water, then stirring it all together until it’s mixed.
The thing is, I used to do everything at breakneck speed.
I walked fast, I moved fast, I did things fast because I had lots of things to do! And now, thanks to multiple sclerosis, I don’t.
The last few times I’ve fed Calvin, dry flour and wet sourdough has ended up where it shouldn’t. Fun fact: Once sourdough starter dries, it’s like spackle. You need to work to clean it up!
The reason I made a mess is simply because I still try to do things at my regular, former speed but I have physical deficits now that make it hard to do things with my left side. (My lesion is on the right side of my brain so it affects the left side of my body. Thankfully I’m right handed.) So I drop things, I accidentally fling things, I knock things over if my arm swings out of its own accord. What can I say? Madoff likes to keep things interesting.
As I was getting ready to feed the starter today, I realized that feeding the starter at breakneck speed, or wanting to, was ridiculous.
What was I speeding towards? Especially now. We’re on lock-down, my business is DOA, and I haven’t left the house in weeks. There’s nowhere I need to be and really, not a whole lot that I need to do, either. If all the animals and both humans are alive at the end of each day, I’m winning.
There’s something to be said for slowing down. Slowing down (in every bloody way whether I liked it or not), combined with the yoga my doctor prescribed back in November seems to have made me more mindful.
Slowing down lets me breathe and now I can notice things other than, is there danger nearby? For so many years, I was oblivious to the little things because I was always looking for the next potential problem.
Today, I slowed down because I had nowhere to be and no long To Do list to accomplish.
I put a cup of flour into the large glass jar that Calvin lives in, no spillage despite my decreased fine motor skills. I added a cup of water without splashing it everywhere, and then I stirred it calmly for a few minutes because why not? Just slowing down and stirring the starter was a calming moment, and because I’d taken the time to pay attention to what I was doing, I managed to get the starter fed without making a mess. So much win!
I wonder if having no choice except to move slowly and mindfully contributes to my reduced anxiety? If I’m moving calmly, maybe that indicates to my nervous system that there’s no emergency? Maybe I’ll ask my neurologist next time we talk. If moving slowly and with intention tells my brain that everything is fine, I must have been signalling danger danger danger every time I moved before, since I did everything at super speed.
I’m never going to say I’m grateful for disability or that I’m glad it happened, but I can find things to learn from it. The magick of slowing down is a good lesson.
