My body didn’t know how to be still

When my children were very small, things in our house were… let’s just say, lively. We weren’t anywhere near crisis point and we weren’t in the school system yet, but I’d been aware for a while that things looked a bit different.

At the time, I just thought I wasn’t coping particularly well as a mum. I was overwhelmed and not juggling things very well, and I always reflected it back on myself. It must be me. It must be my fault. There were some really fun and happy times too, as there are for any mum with very young children. But when you’re in a neurodivergent household, and particularly when you throw PDA into the mix, you can’t quite understand why everything feels so hard. I used to feel like I was wading through mud most days and not getting anywhere. I couldn’t understand why life looked so much easier and lighter for others, and why it felt so very hard for me.

So I started working on my own reactions. I didn’t know then that I was neurodivergent, or that my children were, although I was starting to suspect. I just knew I wanted to find a sense of calm and bring some peace into my inner world.

Now, I’ve never been a massively spiritual person. I used to think meditation and mindfulness were all a bit airy fairy and nonsense. I’ve always been pragmatic and matter of fact, and that sort of thing didn’t really fit. But I was encouraged to keep an open mind and give it a go. So I did.

I started with very short guided meditations, taking a few minutes of the day if I could. Often I’d get interrupted. Often I’d have children climbing over me and I’d have to stop. I learned to take that with grace, and that it was okay to stop and try again later. Sometimes they’d even sit and breathe with me. We used to call it mummy’s breathing. It didn’t quite have the same effect once the kids were on board, but it was quite nice to do together.

Then one day I was listening to a meditation that asked me to imagine a switch inside me. I pictured mine on my chest. The idea was that flicking it gave you permission to slow down and rest. My life at that time was incredibly full on, and I remember doing the breathing, then imagining that switch being flicked so I could just turn off and breathe for a moment.

What came next took me completely by surprise. I had this huge rush of emotion and started to cry – and I didn’t know where it had come from. It felt like a release, like I’d opened the floodgates. Oh, I can let this out. I can drop my shoulders.

I was only at the beginning of my journey, only just trying to be a little bit open minded about this kind of airy fairy mumbo jumbo stuff, and I was really taken aback by the impact it had on me. It was almost unsettling. It was as if my body didn’t feel safe being still and slow and calm, because it was so used to being in that tense state.

When I consider now what was probably happening, I think it’s what happens for a lot of us. Our nervous systems are so hypervigilant. We’re constantly scanning, constantly under demand, constantly trying to meet everyone’s needs. It’s non stop. So when there’s finally some quiet, when it’s slow and calm, your body isn’t used to it. Mine wasn’t, and all that pent up emotion just came rushing out.

I was probably one of the most cynical people you could come across about whether breathing, a guided meditation or a quiet moment could make any real difference. They’re such simple things, and I can’t express just how powerful they’ve been for me. Let’s be realistic, our lives don’t slow down, our situations aren’t suddenly going to change and there is no magic wand. But a few quiet minutes can give you what you need to get through the next hour, or the next little bit of whatever you’ve got to face.

If you’ve ever tried something like this and found it uncomfortable, or found yourself in tears, I don’t think that means it isn’t for you. It may just be that you’re not used to slowing down. I expect a lot of you are carrying plenty that would come up given half a chance – and that can feel a little bit scary.

I’ve been thinking about this more this week because half term starts next week for us, and I know some of you are already off if your school gives two weeks in October. Even if your child isn’t in school at the moment, whether that’s EOTAS, home schooling, alternative provisions, or simply being unable to attend while you wait to hear from the LA, half term can still make things harder for families like ours. The routine changes, everywhere is busy, and there are so many more demands on us as parents. So this might be a good time to do something just for yourself, even if it’s only a few minutes.

If you’d like to try, any short guided meditation will do. I’ve recorded one that’s less than five-minutes which you can access for free from here. And I’d love to hear whether stillness has ever caught you off guard like that too.