New Rules for Resil(ly)ience in 2022
I’ve had a slower start to the year than others, but there’s been something oddly serene about it all.
Christmas was an important threshold to cross, here in this house and this town.
My roots are still tendrils, but they are growing in both number and strength, connecting me to this new land.
I spent most of the month letting the lessons of 2020 and 2021 mulch down to the deeper levels. And so, I am only now writing again. I didn’t make any New Year’s resolutions and I don't intend to.
I did, however, think about how I want to live this year, and how I don’t want to feel overwrought or overburdened anymore.
I’ve been thinking honestly about my past resolutions; based on ego, all dreary self-improvement with some narrow goal in mind, and almost always aimed at corralling my writing into some kind of stressful structure. Word counts, new productivity techniques, and the like. There’s no denying that’ll get your output up, but is it quality? Is it worth my time and yours?
When I feel that my life or my work aren’t coming together, I’m trying to stop and soften, and remember that’s because I am still coming together.
Resil(ly)ience.
I’ve prided myself over the years on my resilience. I’ve had friends marvel at my ability to bounce back, mostly from emotional catastrophes of my own making, if we’re being honest here. And I loved it.
Resilience has gathered a cultural tailwind over the course of the pandemic.
There are myriad articles, books, courses and podcasts devoted to building your resilience, as if life is something to be fortified against.
I’ve had a few days this year already where I have felt less resilient than ever before.
Over the past few weeks, at least one half of my family has been ill, at any given moment. You know what this means. Life quickly falls apart, work slides and laundry piles up. My own physical health took a knock, and my emotional stability with it. I spent two days afraid of walking up stairs by myself. I needed a chaperone in the shower. I simply couldn’t be left alone.
Previously, I could have pushed through such setbacks. In fact, I would have been disgracefully vain about my ability to do so. Now, I’m not sure that’s smart, which is just as well, as for several days I was unable to do much more than gaze listlessly out of the window and wait for my strength to return. It was a welcome lesson in humility.
What I used to think was resilience was in fact me simply blowing past difficult feelings and under-examining important decisions, because I wasn’t equipped to cope with either.
Stay Wild.
This year, I can already see the language of resilience being weaponised against us, to create an individualised response to real world grievances. It puts the responsibility to cope on the person, diverting focus away from the actions of the companies or the systems that influence our lives.
2022 looks to be the year when corporate wellness reaches a peak, with mounting emotional pressure to take advantage of company-backed ‘resilience building’ initiatives - as long as it’s not better money, and more flexible work arrangements, naturally.
Stay wild.
The fragility of the pandemic is still here in our bodies and our hearts. We’re carrying that pain into 2022. But that can work for us, too.
Our faltering might just be the pilot light telling us that something real is wrong. Maybe we should stop pushing through when we’re ill, sad or under the cosh. The older I get, the less this is even an option. If I need to stop, I’m now unable to keep going.
What if my loss of resilience is actually a demand to focus my life’s energy on what matters?
This realisation has had a tranquillising effect on my usual neurotic approach to a new year. This time, I’ve simply let go of any delusions about my time, energy and money, and how I will manage all three.
I’ve done less in a traditional sense, but I feel like I’ve lived a little more.
Imbolc.
Maybe it’s Imbolc.
On 1st and 2nd February, the traditional Celtic seasonal festival of Imbolc marks the first day of spring, and the midway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. Later, the celebration was Christianised as the feast day of Saint Brigid. This year, Feb 1st was both Imbolc and Chinese Lunar New Year, with a Dark/New Moon falling on the same date. A cornucopia of spring festivals to suit your denomination!
I like the simplicity of what a friend remarked recently, that she could feel a ‘tickle of spring’.
Whichever festival works for you - this is a time for re-emergence.
No New Year, new you. Just some healthy new roots and tender shoots, anchoring us back into ourselves.