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Kia ora darlings,

I’m sitting in the day ward completing my biannual infusion medication for multiple sclerosis.

[I don’t really want to talk much about my infusion days. And yet it feels unfair and jolting to mention it then not provide context. Briefly, there’s a lot that comes up for me during these days:

• I think about how many years I spent dressing up in the armor of a rich educated white woman to fight for good care for myself. And how deeply unfair it is that my armor helps me and that any of us need it at all. (happy to provide citations for health care disparities and under-care among women and racial and ethnic priorities; but also you can search google scholar too)

Thanks for reading Dr Kerry's Love Letters: words for the weary! This post is public so feel free to share it.

• The nurses here are so nice. The volunteers bring you coffee and tea and Milo and free sandwiches of buttered white bread. And there are moments here that are incredibly sad. I sit next to people who are receiving cancer treatment, who are thin or bald, who are crying, or having panic attacks. And again, here I am, healthy and robust and enjoying a day of writing without interruption. Without major health complications or even adverse reactions to the medication. And it is just so unfair.
• You see how many times I’ve mentioned fair? Maybe better words are unjust, capricious, cruel, random. I won’t edit it here. I’ll just leave it as it is.

So that is the swirl of feelings that come with today’s infusion day.]

Back to my original point: My med cycle is now settled into a pre-Christmas and pre-Matariki rhythm. Six months ago there were decorations and platters of cookies. Now we approach Matariki.

For our international friends, Matariki is the Māori new year and “a time to gather with whānau and friends to reflect on the past, celebrate the present, and plan for the future.” (more education here)

As the sun has long sleeps, as our outdoor temperatures drop, as a curved dome of stars stream past us each night, we are invited to rest.

We are invited to look back.

Maybe we take a pause to savor this delicious now.

If we like, we can plan for the future.

Journal prompts for a midyear pause

• Prompt reflecting on the past: Who and what helped you to come to this moment in time? If you were writing a thank you note to them, what would you say?

  • When I redid my website, I finally added a section that had been in my heart for years: a personal bio that acknowledged my ancestors. I’m excited to thank them in my new book too.

• Prompt reflecting on now: What small stressors and annoyances of now might be seen as fleeting joys?

  • This idea is in part inspired by Sam Harris’ suggestion that when you are annoyed by your family, you can pause and remind yourself of our mortality, of the immense gift of this moment where you are all alive and healthy enough to be annoying each other. Watch, this suggestion can be twisted into toxic positivity, that isn’t helpful for any of us. But used gently, and mixed with deep self compassion for our own frustration, I have found it to be a powerful tool.

  • My small stressors that are also fleeting joys:

    • discarded dirty socks in every room in the house,

    • the stress of saying no and having too much to do while bowing to the pleasure of purposeful work

• Prompt to plan for the future: What are you own guiding stars, your priorities and values for the time ahead? Even a few words or images can help shape your decisions moving forward.

  • I’ve written a few times about annual planning, the pre-work, looking back at the year behind you, and even gave you a Google Doc template for planning your next year.

  • My own time planning recently has been guided by picking 1-2 priorities in each of my roles (carer of my body/mind/spirit, member of the family, psychologist, author, friend). Then these headlines shape my time use day to day and hour to hour.

Now let’s hear the wisdom of our elders:

Seasonality

In START HERE: A PRACTICAL GUIDE FOR THE OVERWHELMED, I say

Put simply, for centuries our bodies used the cues of season, time of day and place to filter information. For example, my husband ignores the magpies in the trees most of the year. But in the spring, magpies will swoop at anyone who comes too close to their nests. So as the trees begin to bud and the weather warms, Tim changes his biking route and watches closely for magpies in his path.

Recognizing the time for rest and the time for work, re-tuning to seasons and cycle, is experiencing a renaissance in the time-management world as well.

Want to read more about seasonality and slow productivity?

For more reading and viewing, I recommend Cal Newport’s “To Cure Burnout, Embrace Seasonality”

and the video below:

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That is all for now. My medication is done and I wait for an hour under observation till I can go home. The crying stopped. We are reading and drinking tea, each in our own small worlds, yet held, however precariously, by Kenepuru Hospital, by the taxpayers, by the medical providers, by the whenua, the land, the placenta.

Aroha atu, aroha mai (love received, love returned),

Kerry