COVID and the art (or battle) of rest

When I got COVID mid-March 2022, I had no idea what to expect. I wish I had taken wide-spread advice of “rest, rest, rest”. But, to start with, I only pretending to. Oh look, I’m resting (as I’m checking my work email again). Oh look, I’m resting (as I worry about climate change and the war in Ukraine). This has led to a secondary infection and the possibility of getting long COVID. But pretending to rest was also creative, in the form of an existential crisis - a very helpful one - that gives some insight into what good could possibly come from such a game-changing pandemic. Here is my mini horror story in the hope you’ll behave much better than I did.

The T line

Day one. I’ve just put some of my cells into a thin, plastic rectangle. My partner, Dean, tested positive last night, and I’ve got some symptoms: Sore throat, headache, body aches. It’s not too bad. I’ve had a cold for a couple of weeks already so part of me worries about getting COVID while I’m already down.?Or maybe I’ve had COVID for a while and it didn’t show up in a RAT test?

And there it is … a very strong red T line under the C line. COVID. Boom. I’m almost relieved. Now it’s real and now I can just get on with. I mean, we are all going to get it eventually, aren’t we??I’ll take a few days off, watch TV, take it easy. Might be quite nice.

I work for a few hours, support my team to carry on for the week, and cancel my appointments for the next five days. There’s a couple of Zooms I don’t cancel because of the amount of effort it’s taken to get that far in a project. In the past (which for me is now called pre-COVID) I’ve usually keep working from home if I’m sick. But I’ve read the literature: I need to take this seriously. We’ve got plenty of food and it’s a lovely day. My dog loves us both being home. I will be fine.

Dean tries to do some work converting our sleepout but lasts half an hour.?We’re not quite sure what we’re converting the sleepout to yet. For a change, I haven’t been in a rush to decide. The junk has been cleared out; mouldy curtains gone; and the ranch slider bashed opened. We’ve taken the window out but only replaced it with builder’s paper. I need to find the right window – right size for light, right opening part for ventilation. Right height for a wider view.

There’s a quieter thought: What if I get really sick, or do get long-COVID? What is long-COVID? What if I’m one of those people?

Just rest and you’ll be fine

Whoever said this virus is just like a bad cold is either extremely lucky, extremely young, or extremely lying. Day two and I can’t move from the couch – the aches are so bad. Deciding when to go to the loo is quite a process. Dean thinks he is mostly over the worse, but he has asthma, so we’re on the look out for that.

I do two hours work. My colleagues tell me off for working and I laugh it off. I’m their manager, I’m supposed to do this. But I feel like I’ve worked ten days straight after just two hours. It’s a weird kind of exhaustion – physically drained but my brain is wired. I didn’t sleep much last night. A friend says to relax and I think, “Of course I’ll relax”. It’s easy. Just don’t do anything.

Day three. Painkillers and anti-inflams aren’t helping much. And my sinuses are filling, filling, filling. It’s not just the physical pain and fatigue: I can’t be bothered doing anything. My world shrinks to the TV remote and trips to the bathroom. My temperature is now 38.6 and a temperature of 40 could mean hospital. I have no idea what to do. It’s hard feeling like a child when you’re in your 50s.

Let me know if I can do anything

Day four. I hate asking for help. On Messenger I respond to offers with, “No we’re fine thanks”. But we could do with some fresh veges. The people I thought would offer, haven’t, but there’s also been some lovely surprises: A concoction of honey and thyme; flowers and some bickies, left at the bottom of the drive by my sister. We have our food bag delivery in a couple of days. I’m hungry but not really. I can’t even think of a treat that I want.

Dean is feeling much better and is getting busy in the sleepout. I go for my morning walk of 10 metres and join him – we’re meant to be getting fresh air, aren’t we? It’s a stunning room with sea views and one side backs onto our little forest. He goes to get something out of the van, and I have a minute here on my own. It’s too bright. My ears are ringing. I’m uncomfortable every way I move. But I have a big rush of gratitude for him when he’s back, as he screws a sheet of ply onto a wall. We say this room is for us, but really, we both know I’ll get more out of it! He asks what I’m smiling at, and I tell him “You”. He knows.

I’m grateful I’m not going through COVID on my own. But I wonder what it would be like to have children that drop things off for you, and ring you with soup recipes, or grandchildren that scream, “Nana, Nana” at you over Zoom. But that’s another story.

Back on the couch, aches are a little better and I’m sneezing - better out than in. I have a new active feeling in my chest – kind of a sore, hot prickle. My guts feel a bit rough too. And I’m still not sleeping properly. There’s a lovely window at 9.30pm when I feel a little sleepy, so I go to bed. But an hour later I’m still awake. I’m completely exhausted but I’m not tired. No nana-day naps either.

How can I recover if I can’t sleep? Isn’t that when all the good stuff happens? Restore body, dam you. Maybe I have a weak immune system. I reacted strongly to all three vaccinations and was told this was a good thing – that my body is building up good immunity. I thought so many things about this pandemic. I’m beginning to think that there are absolutely no rules with COVID and no one to believe.??

FEVER is a symptom

My temperature is now 39.6. I’ve blocked three people on Facebook and raved at an old family friend on the phone – I haven’t spoken to him for 12 years. Someone should take my phone away from me. I’m feeling very economic with the things I care about and rejecting things I don’t care about.

I feel slightly better at the end of the day and do a couple of hours work and fold the washing. Socks with holes in, a dress with a rip – out you go. I force myself to go outside to check on sleepout progress. Sun is good, no, sun is bad. I can’t make it up the six steps to the front door. Beautiful garden, blah. Neighbour’s calling, ignore.

Back on the couch. I’m just never going to get up again. My Nana died with a cup of tea in one hand and a cigarette in the other, while sitting on the couch. Minus the cigarette, this could be me.

I’m on series four now of reruns of Sex in the City. I didn’t know about white privilege in the 90s but now that I do, Carrie’s hair and her obsession with shoes is annoying. Can’t even read.

Your breathing may be affected

This must be what asthmatics feel like, not being about to fill your lungs properly. It’s come to this: The most basic, most fundamental part of living. Breathing. If I can’t breathe, I can’t be well. I didn’t read all the health information in the text I was sent after I registered my positive result. If I had, I would have read that day 5-7 is often the time when the virus affects your lungs and breathing.

COVID affects tissue in your body. So, any vulnerabilities means the virus may affect you differently.?I just…can’t…breathe properly. I ring Health Line, but, while they do a great job triaging if you’re going to live or die, they aren’t really there for anxious questions. They say to ring my ‘health team’ in the morning. I ask what a health team is. It’s my doctor. I’ve been reading all the news about how stretched doctors are and how you can’t get an appointment, so I haven’t seen them as someone who can help me. I mean, I’m not one of those people who are going to get really sick. The best advice I’ve been getting is from the wonderful staff at our local pharmacy – angels in disguise – who go way beyond their roles and capacity. But the pharmacy is shut today.

I hardly moved for seven days, but this is not rest.

It should only last up to a week

Not counting days anymore. My breathing is a bit better. I’m back at work because things are sliding. I try not to think about my body attacking its own tissue. Or the amount of pain relief chemicals I’m ploughing into my body

I last half a day and then try to rest but all I get is restlessness. I’m realising that resting means resting and relaxing, not pretending to rest.?I set myself up on my lounger in our garden. Birds. Smell of grass after rain. Maybe restlessness is an excuse for those hidden things you ignore about your health and wellbeing. Maybe this is a good time to finally deal with them.??

Now it’s 11.50pm and I’m totally wired. Not hungry. Not tired. Not too achy. Not anything. I look up the word recover: Return to a normal state, or the process of regaining control. My balance is a bit off but there’s one thing clearly dawning on me: What if recovering to the way we were is not enough?

Insomnia: The fine print

I finally decide I need my own health team. It’s okay to ask for support. The doctors are super busy and only taking 15-minute phone consultations. The receptionist is amazing and tells me that it’s okay that I’m still not feeling well and that everyone is different. I make an appointment to talk to the doctor later that afternoon. I ask if I’m still infectious if I have symptoms on day eight. She says unlikely, but if I have a virus, I should stay at home and rest. If we have any virus or feel unwell, we should stay at home, surely, she says.

My restlessness and lack of proper sleep is affecting me now. I also have another fever. I’m exhausted but my mind is still wired. My quiet thoughts are bellows through a megaphone, almost separate from my body.?I can’t go on living like this, even when I’m better – not relaxing, picking up low-level colds all the time, cold sores, morning aches. And something deeper – something about how little I truly relax.?I always thought that being passionate and engaged was a sign that I was doing the right thing. But what does that do to your body over time? I need to contribute in a way that means something but feels like my lane.

A virus is a response

I don’t know what day it is but I’m heating up again. I think of the world heating up too:?I had a conversation recently with a colleague who quoted Pueblo Indian from New Mexico, Michael Bird:?That the world is heating up and maybe humans are the virus. It’s so outrageous yet profound. I can’t ignore what deep rest I need as much as humans can’t ignore what we’re doing the planet and people. All those systems that most of us buy into:?An obsession with capitalism, growth, ignoring indigenous ways of knowing and doing, financial structures that benefit very few, and a basic right of housing that has turned into profitmaking. What if COVID is the way humans are responding to the earth heating up? Did we really think greed and climate wasn’t going to affect us as individuals? Unless we’re underwater or burning, most people seem to ignore the increase in storms and fires.

I think of the first lockdown, with hope. It was shocking. But it also created a shift in thinking and action: It taught us to act local, to be local. It was an awesome opportunity: Communities were given extra resources and the ones that had strong relationships didn’t even need to ask; every single person was part of community, no matter where they worked or who they thought they felt disconnected from; and some of us had a newfound gratitude for survival. What did we learn that has stuck?

Maybe this terrible *ucking global virus is sucking out the way we’ve always done things, making it impossible to do what we’ve always done. And that this is a good thing.

But how do I relax, and care about the world?

Get some fresh air

Day 11 and second fever over. It’s clear that COVID is over for me and I’m now acting out my own fallout show. I go to the beach. I can be slow here. Switch off. It’s nice. Tide in and out – going out in order to go in. It’s bright, too bright, but if feels new. Still restless.

These sculptures on the sand of seaweed, twigs, half-shells, moved and left by the tide. I think of the Māori world for breath – hā - essence. It’s clear, in times like this. We know what we need to do.

Back home on the couch, I have a tide of my own - things that need attention. I have a choice, to go from fight to art. It’s been 11 days since I had my usual life and I don’t want to go back to rushing. Today I start to slow down.

The ply ceiling and walls are up in the sleepout. Maybe this place could be a writing room for me, and a chill out space for us. I’ve been looking online for furniture ideas. Nothing settles. I take my beanbag up there and open the ranch slider and sit in the sun. There’s a rush of wings above me as a korimako flies over me to settle in our neighbour’s tree. I can’t see it but I hope to hear it soon.

I take my first deep breath.

The possibility of secondary infections

Last night, I took a magnesium sleep formula with herbs in. 10.5 hours sleep. I could have kept sleeping but the crackle in my chest actually woke me up. My cough is back. My doctor talks about the possibility of secondary infections which can lead to pneumonia. They prescribe antibiotics but all I do is stare at the bottle. What if this secondary thingy is viral and not bacterial, in which case antibiotics won’t help. In fact, they’ll trash my immune system even more.

I ask to have a blood test and say I’d like to wait for the results before I take the antibiotics. They only take a few hours to come back: My secondary infection is not bacterial, it’s viral.?COVID – the virus that keeps on giving.

Worse than the aches, headache and fiery cough, is that I can’t be bothered caring about the world anymore. I think of retirement. Ridiculous.

An end to fighting

I’m still testing positive, but the line is a lot thinner than before. Apparently, you can test positive for months after, even though you don’t actually still have the virus. I’m feeling a bit better, except for my cough which feels like hot bronchitis.

My body is still fighting. But so is the world. Putin. Floods. Occupations. I need to relax. The world needs to change. I need to find a way to do both – a way that doesn’t make me unwell.

Just got off the phone with a naturopath I used to see years ago. I will start a regime of vitamins, minerals, potions and drops: A histamine modulator, vitamin C, vitamin D, zinc, lysine, gut repair with probiotics, and withania. I’m also taking a homeopathic remedy to ease the anxiety I feel about getting sicker.

I have no idea what some of those things are or if they will work, and I know the wrought of the supplement world, but there’s radio silence from the conventional medical world. Perhaps this shift is also required. I have kawakawa in our forest. I should go make some tea.

I start to feel good about trying something different. I spend time in our half-finished sleepout and try to slow my breath.

Choosing art over battle

This is it – the day they talk about – the day I turn a corner. Day 17 for me. I still have a headache and aches and a cough, but it’s much less. And I feel almost hopeful. I think of a million things I could/should do, but I take my cup of tea into our forest.

Kereru are gorging on berries for winter above me. At first, I don’t hear the korimako in our neighbour’s tree. Then a flutter, a rustle, and there it is above me high in the kowhai tree. It’s bells are beautifully tuned.

I think of a news story I read recently about Matike Mai Aotearoa . Matike Mai offers a values transformation of our current constitution (not a tinkering around the edges) so that Te Tiriti can be actioned. And it offers a third relational sphere. This is the sphere I want to contribute to, not going back to something that is just not working.

But not today. Today I need to get out of my head and into my body. I can get well and change the world, but I need to spend more time here, in the forest, and in my body: To listen to what’s really going on. I’m unwell and I don’t know for how long. But that’s what I have to work with if I want to be part of any change.

My whare ngahere – forest room – my place of rest. This is what I’d like our sleepout to be. A place of true rest. Essence of breath. It will have no clutter or purpose. I don’t need to buy anything for it. I’ve already got what I need: Bean bags and yoga mats. And I know just where I’m going to place my new lamp. It’s a small round lamp with printed branches of trees on the inside. The branches are revealed when the light is on. The woman who sold me the lamp is a clinical musician and plays her harp to people who are dying or unwell, to connect their bodies to their hearts.

What a fine gift to give the world. And what a fine expression of the art of rest.?

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A bit of an update: Week nine for me and I'm still unwell. But there are good things too. If you'd like to kōrero about long-COVID, please let me know - [email protected] or reply to this post - I'm creating a Zoom soon, so we can share.

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Another update: Week 14 for me. Symptoms have changed. I have more energy and am able to do my job well. The rest of the time - well, let's just say I'm so extremely grateful and thankful for my beautiful forest room!

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Another update: It's been nearly six months. I am now in the camp of chronic fatigue. I've resigned from my role at work because my life needs a different kind of support. I need to spend more time feeling good, where feeling stressed is not the norm. I have had a fundamental paradigm shift in how I see myself in the world. It hasn't been pretty, but it's a good thing. Time in my forest room is the start to every day. Then a walk on the beach with the doggy and the man, and where the stream meets the sea.

So what do people do if they don't have a forest room? I'm working on this idea of 'simple peace' - that it's awesome to be privileged enough to have a forest room, but how do we access simple peace and relaxation anywhere and anytime? í don't mean holidays (which we cram with adventure and busy-ness). Every single moment is a chance to drop our shit, breathe, and start again. Because it's the thoughts we have now that will create our future lives. I read this back and think I sound like I know it all. I don't. I know nothing. I've come this far in life and I'm only now learning how to live. It's just that I've been given a gift in the way of bloody Covid to live a better life. Ha. That's the headline isn't it - How Covid Saved my Life. Woop woop.

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Another update - it's October 2024, 19 months after I got Covid. I still have long-Covid but I don't focus on that now. I could not have continued to live my life in the way I had pre-Covid - screaming around, unfocused, unsure, hiding. I now allow the symptoms I still feel (headaches and fog, mental tension, sinusitis, and inability to multitask!) to be present as a reminder to be present, and calm.

The wonderful integrative doctor Carmen Barnes has been a major string in my wellness bow. She has GP powers and knowledge, plus a whole range of natural approaches and solutions. And she's a super beautiful person. I'm so grateful that she is such a genius. Dr Carmen has great support from her awesome hubby too who also works in the practice.

As I started to regain my energy and health, I stopped work totally. I had to let go. That was extremely hard because there is so much to do in the equity and Te Tiriti space in Aotearoa. While I was able to be some parts of myself in that space, it wasn't the full me. I wanted more depth and slower spaces for transformation.

I wasn't able to be a calmer and more considered me. So...I retrained as a restorative yoga, yin yoga, and yoga nidra teacher earlier this year. Those beautiful practices carried me through being unwell, especially yoga nidra. I have more relaxation now, more letting go, more space and grace, more calmness and slowing (while still being me). I've always done yoga and meditation and it was always something I did to mitigate the stresses of life. Now I put calm in the bank every now!

I now guide and support others, from my own experience. Please see my new venture - a yoga studio in the middle of the forest - BeCalmed Studio. I've taught over 100 classes now, as well as offering audio recordings (and soon video). People come into my studio who need support to rewire their brains and bodies through active relaxation. They need to relearn to breathe, release physical and mental tension, and revisit intention in their lives. They are diverse clever and stunning people who already know what to do. The missing ingredient in their own wellness is a regular guide and a haven in a natural setting. Most of us aren't bought up in an environment that teaches us to pay attention to our subtle bodies and to do daily practices to stop the effects of chronic stress. If only it was taught in all schools.

I left Aotearoa in September 2023 to spend six months in Malaysia and Thailand, to further my own yoga journey. I'll be back with more classes from March 2024, in Titahi Bay, Porirua, Wellington, as well as online opportunities. This includes workplace hauora sessions. I'd also like to support others with long-Covid ME and chronic pain.

I'm not saying that I'm glad I got Covid, but I am so glad that I had the opportunity to rejig my life and the relationships in it (mainly to myself). This journey feels right.

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Another update - it's now November 2024. Last week I caught Covid again. Wow, have I been dreading this. It hasn't been so bad. And again, I find the opportunity.

My head is screaming mainly. And I'm finding it hard to get to sleep. I have learnt about the glymphatic system which is majorly affected by Covid. This system is responsible for cleaning out debris in your brain, mainly when you sleep. While you sleep, especially deep sleep, the space between your brain cells expands to allow cerebrospinal fluid to flow more freely. This fluid is like the washing powder in your washing machine. And the gunk that this fluid cleans out is from toxic thinking, stressful thinking, negative thinking etc.

So, without deep sleep, we don't clean our mind! So I've just ordered some melatonin from my doctor to help me get to sleep. Once I'm asleep, I sleep well. Now I'm learning about WHY Covid affects our glymphatic system. Again, I concentrate on the healing not the symptoms of Covid, but, some knowledge goes a long way to feeling able.

But mainly I'm watching the things I tell myself: You won't recover. You're not strong enough to recover. You'll always be sick. I replace this with: I am healing. I am exactly where I am supposed to be. I live with ease.

Here's some blogs and audio tracks I've been writing lately, on my BeCalmed Studio yoga website. If you're a newbie to calm, I hope this helps.

MindRest (Yoga Nidra) for healing

How to keep calm

Why is yoga obsessed with breathing?

In love with no-thing

Choosing your focus

The BeCalmed Breath

Your calm transition to sleep

Transforming trauma with a cat

Restorative Yoga: your little wisdom party

The side of relaxation you may not know (yet)

It may not be a cold but a needed rest

Leg's the Wall - how amazing

How BeCalmed Studio got its name