What’s your soul food?

Posted on August 22, 2011 by Katherine Baldwin

Dancing is good for my soul. Especially salsa dancing or any other form of Latin dancing.

I’m not quite sure why I have an inner Latina – my parents assured me I’m 100 percent British – but I definitely have one. Maybe it’s because we holidayed a lot in Spain when I was small or because my Mum had pondered calling me Juanita (‘Juanita Baldwin’ – not quite sure that works). Or perhaps because as soon as I started to learn Spanish, it seemed to roll off my tongue. Of course, it’s probably got more to do with the year I spent living in Spain at 21 and the five years I spent living in Mexico in my late 20s. They were significant years of my life, formative years even – more formative, it seems, than my teenage years. But my inner Latina feels part of me and it feels like she’s been around from the start.

So when I ended up dancing salsa and speaking Spanish on Friday night and into the early hours of Saturday, my inner Latina came alive and my years of Latin living came flooding back to me. It’s been a while since I’ve been salsa dancing and Friday night made me wonder why. Why do we or why do I (you may be better at this than me) not set time aside to do the things I truly love?

I often have good intentions to go salsa dancing but my sensible head tells me it’s not a good idea – I don’t have any good friends who go, the men can be a little leery and it’s a late night activity that will leave me feeling tired the next day. Oh yes, and my dodgy ankle will play up and will have a knock-on effect on my lower back. Despite all those potential reasons for not going dancing, however, I’m almost always pleased when I make the effort and I’m often the last to leave. So I was quite happy to get home at 3 am on Saturday morning. I felt very youthful rolling home in the early hours at my age (that’s 40 in case you’d forgotten), although not quite so youthful when I hobbled out of bed late on Saturday morning. But it was worth it.

As I was writing this post, I was wondering if this topic was in anyway linked to my previous post on perfectionism, When is it ever good enough?, and I’ve been thinking maybe it is. There are many reasons why I love salsa but one of them is because I feel so free when I’m dancing. I’m not perfect at it and never will be. I don’t know all the steps and I sometimes twirl the wrong way or step on my partner’s toes. But I really don’t care that I don’t get it right. There’s something so liberating about just having a go, especially when everyone else is just having a go too. And there’s something about that music that makes me want to dance. I proved this on Saturday – I’d downloaded some salsa music onto my iPhone after all the fun I’d had on Friday night and I couldn’t stop myself from dancing, in my own little salsa world, on the tube platform (to a few stares from fellow passengers).

The whole experience reminded me that, for whatever reason, I seem to have some sangue latina (Latin blood) and it’s a side of me I don’t want to ignore. It also triggered a large wave of nostalgia for those years in Mexico: for the friendships, the parties, my battered old VW Golf that I bought with cash and sold for cash, the weekends at the beach and the love of some very special people.

I’ve written often on this blog about the negative elements of my former years: the overdoing it with food, drink, men, work, exercise etc. But in the interest of balance, I deserve to celebrate the good times: waterskiing on the lagoon near Acapulco, eating fresh chilli prawns, dancing till dawn, playing in the crashing waves of the Pacific, snorkelling in the Caribbean. I can see the colours as I write.

And continuing on the topic of balance, I realised soon after I posted it that my last blog on perfectionism was probably a little black and white. I remember writing that I’d never really enjoyed the trappings of my “successful” career. That’s not entirely true. It’s probably more accurate to say I never truly appreciated what my career enabled me to do. I never truly appreciated what I had, because I was always focusing on what I didn’t have. And I often still do.

So I deserve to remember that I live in one of the trappings of my career – a beautiful flat in a nice area of London – and I’m writing this blog on another – a MacBook – and I get around town on another – my pistachio green Vespa. And there are plenty of expensive dresses in my wardrobe and I’ve been fortunate to travel to many amazing places. I think it’s just about stopping to appreciate what’s around me and being grateful for what I do have or have done so far.

Before I sign off and on a separate topic, a special thank you to Sue at Beautiful Magazine for featuring a post I wrote on body image for her magazine’s blog. In Inside Out, not Outside In, I talk about my Lent experiment to give up negative body thoughts and offer some other musings on self-esteem.

Posted in Body Image, Eating disorders, Fun, Self-Acceptance, Uncategorized, Women | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

When is it ever good enough?

Posted on August 17, 2011 by Katherine Baldwin

I’ve been doing a bit of research into perfectionism after finishing a magazine feature on Friday and feeling totally incapable of enjoying the fact that I’d been commissioned in the first place, that I’d handed in the story on time and that it had been well received. Why’s that, then? Well, needless to say, in my eyes it wasn’t good enough. 

Now, if this wasn’t a sad state of affairs, it’d be funny. But, the truth is, it’s a sad state of affairs. Fortunately, it seems, I’m not alone. I’ve been chatting to some other creative types over the past few days and many share my feelings. I’ve spoken to theatre directors who cringe at the thought of anyone seeing their plays or would-be authors who are terrified their books will see the light of day. And then there’s me, who, despite my friends’ excitement at my soon-to-be-published article, would rather hide under the bed when it comes out.

This has got me pondering the other “successes” of my career thus far and whether I’ve been able to enjoy them. Did I ever pat myself on the back after those exhausting reporting trips to Iraq and Afghanistan with Tony Blair? Did I bask in the glory of my boss’ praise over my Brazilian feature on plastic surgery? As far as I can remember, I was always too busy wishing I’d found a different quote, written a snappier headline or taken a different angle.

And did I enjoy the trappings that came with many years in a well-paid job at Reuters? Did I buy something I’d always wanted or go on that amazing holiday I’d always dreamt of? The answer, unfortunately, is no. This doesn’t mean it was all doom and gloom but there was a notable absence of any real ability to appreciate the fruits of my labours or enjoy my achievements – which begs the question why did I try so hard to achieve (and still do)?

It's somehow different seeing your name in print

Well, when it comes to writing, it seems I have a compulsion to do it. I didn’t realise this until I tried to stop. I was getting so frustrated seeing other people’s stories appearing in papers or magazines or their books being published that I had to do something about it, even if the thought of having my work publicly scrutinised horrifies me. Of course, I’ve been publishing stories for 16 years but at least 12 of those were via international news agencies and those stories – despite probably having more impact – never quite seemed real. They got filed electronically into a black hole and you had no idea who was reading them, until they’d show up in print in The Washington Post or Sydney Morning Herald and you’d get sent a cutting by a friendly local correspondent – months after the fact.

This fear of public scrutiny and this sense of our work never being good enough seems to be the case for many “creatives”, as I’ll call the body of writers, actors, directors, painters, illustrators etc. We can’t stop doing it but we want to run a mile when it’s judgement day – when the audience takes their seat, the reader opens our book or someone stumbles on our magazine article in the hairdressers.

So, back to the research. I was particularly interested to read about ‘maladaptive perfectionists’ who, according to Wikipedia’s entry on perfectionism, believe that work or output that is anything less than perfect is unacceptable. It goes on to quote Don E. Hamachek, who’s written a number of books on psychology. He said normal perfectionists “derive a very real sense of pleasure from the labours of a painstaking effort” while neurotic perfectionists are “unable to feel satisfaction because in their own eyes they never seem to do things [well] enough to warrant that feeling of satisfaction.” Oh dear – lots of bells are ringing!

Psychology Today describes perfectionism as a one-way ticket to unhappiness and says it’s typically accompanied by depression and eating disorders. It’s also linked to procrastination, according to this article, ‘What flavour of perfectionist are you? It matters!’ More bells!

All that said, I can’t be all that bad as at least I’m out there writing stuff. I’m not actually hiding under my bed, even if I might do that the day my story comes out. And maybe next time a story comes out, I’ll just stay in my room and sit on top of the bed. And the next time maybe I’ll actually leave the house. And finally, one day, some day, I’ll be inviting all my friends round to drink pink fizzy stuff and to celebrate!

I’m also remembering that the feelings of inadequacy that are so strong in the first days after I’ve finished a piece of work diminish over time. It was the same when I refurbished my flat. For the first few months, all I could focus on were the bits I’d got “wrong” – the radiator I’d chosen that was too small or the ill-informed decisions I’d made over kitchen cupboards or the small holes in the newly laid floor. Now I turn a blind eye to the imperfections and just look at the lovely, big picture. (It has been a few years though!)

In the meantime, I’ve decided I want my next big feature to be on perfectionism. After all, who better to write it? And I’ve also started taking some action to fight back. I finished a piece of work today that’s not due until Friday and I’d considered asking for an extension on to give myself more time. And I’ve written this blog entry very quickly and am about to post it, despite the potential for grammar and spelling mistakes!

And I’ve also decided – as foolish as this might sound given what I’ve just said about the torment that comes with publishing my work – that I really want to write a book. I even set out some chapter ideas last night and actually got excited at the prospect. Yes, it’ll likely be a torturous process but, somehow, I feel compelled to do it. I’m sure some of you can relate.

Posted in Creativity, Eating disorders, Perfectionism, Self-Acceptance, Uncategorized, Women | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

Holding on to joy

Posted on August 12, 2011 by Katherine Baldwin

It’s become apparent in the last week or so that it’s much easier to feel joy on holiday or immediately after a holiday than it is in the midst of a busy work week – particularly if, like me, you’re a perfectionist with extremely high standards and a rather obsessive way of working.

Perfectionism is probably one of the main things that robs me of joy. It can stop me from having a go, from trying in case I fail. Or, once I’ve decided to have a go, it can make the process so torturous that I wonder whether I’m up to it.

This week I’ve been working on my first commission for a magazine I really want to write for and while I’m delighted to have the opportunity, it’s definitely awakened my perfectionism and my fear of being judged. I heard the actress and writer Maureen Lipman on the Chris Evans’ Breakfast Show on Radio 2 this morning talking about writing. “No one loves to write,” she said. “But I love having written.” That’s probably not true for everyone but it really got me thinking.

There are types of writing I really love – writing on this blog, for example. There’s something so freeing about writing from the heart. It doesn’t involve interviewing lots of experts and then coming to a decision about which quotes to use or which points to make. It doesn’t involve choosing who or what to leave out. Of course, there’ll always be scope for judgement – people might be judging me right now – but no one can argue with how I feel. They might tell me I’m nuts or to get a grip but there’s no point writing a letter to the editor (if I had a blog editor) saying my reasoning was spurious, my argument unsubstantiated or my experience invalid. My feelings are as they are. Or, said in another way, it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to.

Don’t worry, I’ve no intention of crying. Things are still going relatively well but I have concluded this week that some of us have to make a conscious effort to hold on to joy on a daily basis, lest it slip through our fingers, dragged away by fear, anxiety and all the other trials and tribulations of life.

Which brings me back to balance. Balance seems to go out of the window when I’m doing a piece of work I’m really passionate about and particularly interested in getting right. When my perfectionism takes hold, my good intentions to get to the gym, to go to Pilates or yoga (despite my blog on yoga a few weeks back, my core is still mush) or to have lots of fun alongside my work remain just that – good intentions. But I’ve decided to go easy on myself. I’m a lot better than I ever used to be and it’s progress that matters, not perfection! I did read a book a while back, though, that had some great ideas for those of us who are struggling with our behaviours around work.  It’s called The Way We’re Working Isn’t Working and it made a lot of sense to me when I read it. Its suggestions include working in blocks of 90-minutes at the most and taking a good break in between, exercising in the middle of the day, playing a game of pool in the office during work hours and even having a nap at your desk. I guess we all know that we’re more alert and work more efficiently when we take regular breaks but so many of us just plough on through.

But I do believe we can all learn a new way of working. And I also believe we can challenge our perfectionism or whatever else robs us of joy. It seems with me, the more I challenge my fears of being judged, the less control they have over me. There was a point a few years back when I really felt I wanted to give up writing and journalism and do something completely different. But now I see I was probably running from my fears and would have just transferred them to my next career. Better to face them where I’m at.

These days, I’m drawn to writing more than ever and I know I still need to be doing this, both the blogging and the journalism, and maybe a book some day. There are just too many things – both from my own life experience and other people’s – that I want to put down on paper.

Right now, there’s plenty more I want to write about. There are the London riots and how I’ve felt both anxious and sad about what was going on and wondered how I could use my own experience or skills to make a tiny difference. There are the numerous stories of heartache I’ve come across this week, particularly involving IVF treatment, that have really made me wonder if I’d ever put my body through that. And there’s the fact that I feel passionately that we need to be talking and writing more about women’s choices around careers and motherhood. But these are all topics for another day. There’s no point writing about balance if I don’t put it into practice.

Posted in Self-Acceptance, Uncategorized, Work | Tagged , | 2 Comments

Waiting joyfully

Posted on August 1, 2011 by Katherine Baldwin

It’s been a while since I’ve posted (apologies to anyone who was wondering where I was). I’ve been on a short holiday to the English seaside and I’ve had so many lovely experiences and heard so many great words of wisdom in the past week or so that I wasn’t sure what to blog about first.

But I’ve finally settled on the concept of waiting joyfully or joyfully waiting – whatever it is we might be waiting or wishing for. Easier said than done, I realise, but definitely worth giving a go.

Let me begin by saying I feel I’m entering or have entered a season of joy. I don’t want to speak too soon but I’m feeling quite uplifted these days. Maybe life really does begin at 40 after all. If anyone has read much of my writing since I began blogging in March, you’ll have realised I haven’t always felt this way – that I’ve had many joyful times in my life and a lot of “fun”, but I’ve also done a fair amount of struggling and striving. And some of the “fun” I had actually wasn’t that much fun and was driven by extreme behaviours and a general lack of peace and contentment. Well, I feel like I’m finally starting to experience a sense of peace and contentment, a sense that everything, in fact, will be OK. Not that everything necessarily will be great or that life will be rosy all the time, but that everything will be OK – whatever happens.

This new season definitely feels different to the highs of lows of how I used to live. I’d liken it more to a slow walk on a quiet beach rather than a roller coaster ride. In the past, a slow walk on a quiet beach wouldn’t have been anywhere near as appealing as the thrill and adrenalin rush of a fairground but today it’s much more attractive. And that’s a really pleasant feeling – not a thrilling one – but a calm, pleasant one. That said, there’s still space for the odd roller coaster in my life – in fact, I’m hoping to plan a girls’ day out to a theme park very soon – but I’m happy for the roller coaster to be an occasional treat.

I’m attributing this developing feeling of peace and contentment to what I sense is my growing faith and a deeper understanding and acceptance of that faith. And that’s come from dedicating a lot more time over the past month or so to prayer, meditation and generally going slow. To give you a potted history, I began my life with faith, a childish/childlike faith but a faith all the same, but then it left me, or rather I left it, as I chose other rather unhealthy means to cope with the ups and downs of life and discovered alternative outlets for my anxiety, worry, hyperactivity or thirst for adrenalin highs (eating or not eating, binge-drinking, partying extremely hard, excessive exercise, over-achievement etc).

Then, some three or so years ago, after I’d managed to give up a lot of those unhealthy behaviours, I rediscovered my faith or at least accepted that I needed it back following a period of existential crisis (pardon the cliché and the drama but that’s the only way I can describe it) in which I was looking for answers to life’s perennial questions: What am I doing here? Why am I here? What’s my purpose? Why bother? Those questions ultimately took me – rather reluctantly and with a fair degree of embarrassment at first (it just didn’t seem a very cool thing to do) – back to God and back to church.

Which brings me to today. I’ve just been away with my church and lots of other churches to Mablethorpe in Lincolnshire. It was a week of fellowship, friendship, fun, picnics, barbecues, walks on the beach, swims in the sea (complete with seals), lazy hours lying in the sand dunes, singing, disco-dancing and inspirational teaching. It was a week that taught me a lot about myself, brought me closer to God and gave me a greater sense of peace and a feeling that it’ll all be OK, in the end, whatever happens.

One of Nature's little miracles

Where I most felt a sense of peace and a connection to something greater than me was on the beach. I’ve always loved the outdoors but I especially love the beach and the sea, particularly on a sunny, breezy day. It was on the same beach last year that I had a close-up encounter with a seal in the sea (I blogged about this in May in my All will be well post). I had another encounter with a seal last week when swimming with a friend and I spotted another seal in the sea when I was walking on the beach. Both experiences made my heart leap. But I’m just as amazed by the shells, the starfish, the waves and the sand. Maybe it’s something to do with the fact I grew up close to the sea (in the exotic port of Liverpool), but I really feel at home on the beach and very free.

So, back to the title: waiting joyfully. I’ve noted before on this blog that there are some desires of my heart that haven’t yet been fulfilled – the desire for a partner, for children and to find the answer to that other perennial question: What should I do with my life? But I was reminded this week that a) there can be great joy in the waiting b) I might not get exactly what I’m waiting or hoping for and c) it’ll be OK if I don’t because there’ll be a purpose for it and God will have another plan.

The most powerful message along these lines came last week from Nick Vujicic, an Australian who was born with no arms and no legs and has become an inspirational speaker and globe-trotting encourager, challenging people to live joyfully whatever their circumstances and to be thankful for what they have rather than focusing on what they don’t. He had so much to say and I took reams of notes but I particularly liked these phrases: “What’s the point of being complete on the outside if we’re broken on the inside?”, “It’s not about what you’re going through it’s about what you learn when you’re going through it”, “When God gives you His dreams, don’t be worried about what you don’t have or can’t do” and “If God doesn’t change something, there’s a reason for it.” There are tonnes of YouTube videos of him if you’re curious or want to hear more or there’s his brilliantly named website Attitude is Altitude.

Now, I know not everyone is going to agree with these sentiments and it’s not always that easy to muster up gratitude for what we’re going through in the present or to have hope for the future, but Nick is certainly a testimony to living joyfully, independent of circumstances or limitations.

And I figure if I start cultivating acceptance and gratitude today, and every day going forward, I’ll be better equipped to accept whatever does come along. So for today, I’m feeling very grateful for what I do have: the freedom that comes with being 40, independent, childfree and single with a few months of summer ahead, my own beautiful flat in London, a mountain bike I love riding, an able body, friends, family, dinner invitations, work projects, ideas, visions and dreams. Plus the sun is out and I’ve a long weekend planned at the end of August at another beautiful British beach in Dorset. And even if I don’t feel this way tomorrow or the next day, I’ll have this blog to remind me that this is a season of joy.

I love the great British seaside - Mablethorpe beach

 

Posted in Faith, Fun, Leisure, Spirituality, Uncategorized, Women | Tagged , , , | 6 Comments

Seeking our own reassurance

Posted on July 22, 2011 by Katherine Baldwin

On the back of my last post, in which I reported some positive changes in some habitual, unhealthy behaviours, I thought I’d record a few more. It seems I’m on a roll so why not celebrate the good stuff for a change? After all, any victory, whatever its size or significance, is worth noting.

Well done me!

We spend so much time berating ourselves for the bad stuff, why not congratulate ourselves when things go well also? It’s common knowledge that focusing on what goes right and being grateful for it is good for our mood.

So, on a number of occasions in recent weeks, I’ve been on the verge of sending a text or making a phone call to a friend at a moment of doubt, indecision or when faced with a problem I didn’t know how to handle. I was going to use the word crisis but, on reflection, I think that would be over-egging it a bit. It may have felt like a crisis to me in the moment (I can be a drama queen at times), but, putting things in perspective, it really wasn’t.

As soon as a problem has hit in the past few weeks or I’ve been faced with a big decision to make, I’ve immediately started typing out a text or dialling a friend’s number, in search of support and guidance. But, contrary to my usual behaviour, I’ve actually stopped myself, paused for a moment, and realised exactly what I was doing. I was seeking reassurance. I was looking for someone to convince me it was going to be OK – whatever the situation was – and to help me to decide what to do. On some occasions, I was probably hoping someone would tell me what to do. I didn’t feel I could make a decision on my own and wanted someone else to solve things for me.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m a big fan of talking things through with friends, of giving and receiving support and of getting honest feedback. I think sharing our problems is a healthy thing to do – I do it all the time! But there’s a difference between running things by a friend, partner, relative or colleague for a bit of input and doubting our own abilities to make a decision. There’s a difference between testing out our ideas and trusting others opinions’ over our own.

This is something I’ve done quite a lot over the years. I’ve believed others knew best for me. I haven’t trusted myself. I haven’t had faith in my own abilities to solve my own problems. And I haven’t listened to my instinct. Often, of course, that instinct has been buried deep under distracting behaviours so it’s been quite hard to hear. I guess it’s now finding its voice.

I’m starting to believe that I can trust myself to make the right decision or to solve a ‘crisis’. And if I don’t make the right decision, I’ll learn from it anyway. I guess asking others to tell us what to do means we don’t have to take responsibility for ourselves and it also gives us someone to blame if things go wrong. But then we never learn from our mistakes. And if we’re practicing acceptance – of our mistakes, of our imperfections – then getting things wrong is just part of our growth.

As my previous post was rather long, I’m keeping this one short and sweet. But a quick reference before I go to the author, speaker and coach Steve Sisgold who wrote the book ‘What’s Your Body Telling You?’ I haven’t read his book, but given that was the title of my last post, it seems I’ve already taken some of its teachings on board.

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What’s your body telling you?

Posted on July 20, 2011 by Katherine Baldwin

So over the last week or so (apologies, it’s been a while since my last post), I’ve actually managed to listen to my body and respond to its needs. Now, I know this isn’t rocket science. In fact, it’s something that should come naturally to any woman, or man. But it’s something I’ve always struggled with. And I know, from talking to friends, there are many who share this struggle.

In the past, if I was tired, I’d fight the tiredness with food, particularly sugar and more specifically chocolate. It’s like there was a short circuit in my neural pathways. Whereas many would think ‘tiredness = go get some sleep’, I’d think ‘tiredness = go get some food’.

If I was fearful or anxious, I’d also push down the fear and anxiety with food. And if I felt hurt or angry, I’d smother those uncomfortable emotions with food too. Of course, I had other mechanisms for avoiding feelings, ranging from zoning out in front of the TV, to obsessing about a man, to binge-drinking in my earlier years or working to excess. But food, as I’ve said before on this blog, was always my first port of call. Overeating was a quick fix but one that came with painful consequences – self-loathing, shame, embarrassment, and a desire to hide away from the world.

Things have changed a lot over the years but I often still struggle to give my body what it needs and can resort to food. The good news is, however, on several occasions in recent days I’ve asked myself exactly what I need in a given moment and responded appropriately.

As a by-product of listening to my body, I’m a much happier, healthier and saner person but, as a consequence, I’ve achieved a lot less. Where in the past I’d have used a chocolate injection or sugar rush to help me sit at the computer longer or work harder, this past week I’ve actually paid attention when my body has said stop.

So on Thursday, I sat down at my laptop after lunch and felt that familiar mid-afternoon slump. My brain was telling me I needed to plough on, to get stuff done. Pretty soon, I’m sure it would have also told me that something sweet would help. But I had a brainwave. I’d packed my gym kit. So why not go and use it? I went and worked out and then came home with renewed energy to do a few more hours work. It sounds so simple. So why’s it so difficult to do?

I was struggling away in front of the screen again on Friday. I hadn’t had enough sleep after a fun evening out and a late-night chat with a friend who was staying over.

Chocolates!

As expected, the energy dip hit again around 4:30 pm. I willed myself to carry on working as I’d done very little in the morning but my body really didn’t want to. It took me into the kitchen where I spied the beautiful box of chocolates my friend had brought as a gift. ‘Of course, chocolate is the answer,’ I thought. I started to take the ribbon off the box and then, just in time, I experienced a moment of sanity. ‘Hang on a minute,’ I thought. ‘I’m tired. I’m not being very productive. Is this chocolate really going to help? Isn’t it just going to give me a sugar rush followed by an even bigger energy and mood dip? And am I really going to be able to stop after one or two? How about a lie down instead?’ So I did. I took myself into my room, closed the blackout blinds, set my alarm for an hour later and got into bed. Simple, yet so hard to do! Hard to do, I guess, because of the guilt – that voice that tells me I’m not working hard enough or achieving enough. But surely health and wellbeing come before achievement?

To some of you, these little victories might seem little more than common sense but for me they were a major coup. I was replacing my old, unhelpful formula with a new one: ‘tiredness = go and get some rest/sleep’.

I had another little coup on Monday night. I’d had my dinner and felt like eating more. But instead of getting out the organic natural yoghurt and rustic muesli (I’ve become such a healthy overeater in recent years), I asked myself what was really going on. I realised I was feeling anxious as I had a number of decisions to make in the next few days. So instead of following the age-old but flawed formula of ‘anxious = eat something’, I remembered an alternative formula: ‘anxious = pray and meditate about what’s worrying you’. I can safely say it worked much better than excess food would have done.

I also allowed myself a few extra hours in bed on Monday morning as the day before I could feel a tingling on my lip signalling an imminent cold sore after a fun but tiring weekend. With the extra sleep, I woke up refreshed and the cold sore never materialised.

I guess these are examples of ‘small wins’, to coin a term business consultant and author Peter Sims uses in his book ‘Little Bets’, which I’ve just read and reviewed for Mind Tools. These are the little victories that boost our confidence, in work or in life. They’re victories we can build on.

Of course, I’m aware not all of us have the luxury of resting or sleeping when we’re tired. That’s one of the upsides of a freelance career and self-employment (there are many downsides too). Even as a freelancer, sometimes I don’t either. On my recent work trip to Mozambique, there was no opportunity for an afternoon nap or a lie in – I had an all-day course to teach. Inevitably, though, by the end of the week, I was trying to boost my flagging body and mind with sugar (as I wrote in my Mixed Feelings post).

Now, I know a mid-afternoon chocolate bar is common practice for many and has limited repercussions, but after years of recovering from disordered eating, I’m so painfully aware when I’m eating on tiredness or my emotions that I feel really rubbish afterwards. So maybe it’s about finding the right balance – letting myself off the hook when I do slip but also trying to avoid putting myself in situations that lead me down that path.

Writing this post on the back of yesterday’s riveting news involving Rupert Murdoch, the UK parliament and a foam-throwing protester reminds me of the six years I spent as political correspondent for Reuters in the House of Commons. With all that’s going on right now, I’ve been pondering the job I left behind. During my time in the Commons, there were many adrenalin-fuelled breaking news days like yesterday, often linked to Tony Blair and the Iraq war.

Of course, part of me wishes I was back there, feeling the adrenalin, the excitement and that sense of being at the heart of a momentous, global news story – seeing history in the making, if that’s not too much of a cliché. But another part of me knows the toll that kind of high-pressure job and daily grind takes on my body, particularly working for a 24-hour news service. There were only ever a limited number of hours or days that I could work at such a frantic pace in such a stressful environment without resorting to food to keep me going.

My life is much slower and more balanced today and I do miss the adrenalin-fuelled highs. But I definitely don’t miss the lows.

Posted in Body Image, Eating disorders, Health, Self-Acceptance, Uncategorized, Women | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Our core is mush

Posted on July 12, 2011 by Katherine Baldwin

“Our core is mush.” That’s what my yoga teacher said to me the other day. Now, before I go on, I should just clarify something. The phrase ‘my yoga teacher’ suggests I have a regular yoga practice, and that is far from the truth. In fact, the class I took last Thursday was my first one in a number of years and I’ve only dabbled in yoga in the past.

This isn't me, but it could be

But I think it’s time. My body seems to be telling me it wants to do yoga – even if my mind is still telling me that if I’m not pounding the pavement or sweating buckets, then I’m not exercising. So I’m excited about trying to create a habit out of something that seems to benefit so many people. This is probably a huge generalisation but I’ve always found people who regularly practice yoga have a stillness and solidity about them – two qualities I’ve often felt I’m lacking. I’m hoping yoga will give me greater strength, balance, mindfulness, serenity and bodily awareness – in short, that it will help me feel more rooted.

So back to the “mush” comment. I was discussing with the yoga teacher the various types of yoga on offer to figure out which one would suit me best. I’d just done a Hatha class. I’d chosen it deliberately. I knew it was a slower, more meditative form of yoga compared to the more dynamic forms and I wanted to challenge my constant need for activity and that mindset that tells me that if my heart isn’t beating furiously, then there’s no point.

Whenever I’d tried yoga in the past, I’d always gone for the faster or hard-core varieties – Ashtanga or Bikram (in a hot room). Compulsive exercise was a big part of my eating disorder so I was naturally drawn to anything that promised a cardio workout and substantial calorie burn. But I always felt I should be able to master the most difficult yoga poses immediately and was very frustrated when I couldn’t. So, after a short while, I gave up. It seems I missed out on the gene of persistence and perseverance when it comes to certain areas of my life. I was always instantly good at sport – the kind of sport that involves running fast or catching and throwing a ball – and, since my youth, I’ve had little patience for any form of physical activity I’m not immediately brilliant at.

Also, in all my years of sport, I spent very little time bending or stretching – I used to think warming up or down was for wimps. I’d just get out there and run. I had great stamina but my muscles were really tight.

But now, at 40, my body is crying out for bending and stretching, my mind is crying out for stillness and my core is crying out for strength. Both physical and emotional strength. That was my yoga teacher’s point – that both our physical and emotional core is mush, that we run around, engaged in constant external activity, but our inner self is flimsy (which brings to mind the image of a very wobbly pea frittata I had for lunch last week – interestingly on the same day I did the yoga class).

This notion of a mushy centre certainly rang true for me. A weak physical core over the years has led to lower back trouble, poor posture and has hindered my recovery from a long-standing ankle injury. But my weak inner core has perhaps been more damaging.

Just like a tree with a rotten trunk, a weak inner core means I struggle to stand strong, to stand my ground. I wobble easily and can be toppled with a firm push. Over the past years, I’ve been working on strengthening my emotional core and there’s been great progress, but it’s a long, gradual journey. I know yoga isn’t going to come easy to me like running did. It’s going to take a while for my body to adapt to bending, stretching and holding poses and my mind is going to keep on telling me it’s a waste of an hour – where’s the sweat? But I know I’ll be building a different kind of strength and I’ll improve with time and consistent practice.

Similarly, my emotional core will strengthen as I exercise it and build up its muscles – the muscle that helps me to say ‘no’ when I mean ‘yes’, the muscle that helps me to state my truth even if I know the person listening won’t like it, the muscle that helps me walk away from work or relationships I know don’t value me and the muscle that helps me to battle negative, limited thinking and take risks with my life.

If anyone who’s reading can relate to the mushy core, I’d like to recommend Melody Beattie, an author who’s really helped me on this journey to strengthen my core. I particularly like her daily meditation book, The Language of Letting Go, which you can find via her site. And if anyone would like to sing the praises of yoga, feel free to comment, I’d love to hear from you!

Posted in codependency, Eating disorders, Health, Leisure, Uncategorized, Women, yoga | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

Strength in weakness

Posted on July 8, 2011 by Katherine Baldwin

I haven’t blogged for a while and have had a rather slow, quiet and pensive week following my exhausting trip to Maputo, Mozambique. I’ve been nursing my swollen, dry eyelids, catching up on sleep, watching a little too much TV and pondering what I learned while I was away, in the knowledge that every experience, good or bad, is an opportunity to grow.

In my last post, I was asking myself whether I felt emotionally and physically able to do many more of these tiring foreign work trips that usually leave me feeling run down and often trigger my overeating. After some consideration, I know the answer is yes but I have to make sure the conditions are right.

I’ve realised that flying ten hours overnight in economy class as part of a 16-hour journey isn’t how I want to travel if I’m on a work assignment. I’m aware that journalism and flying business class don’t exactly go hand-in-hand but there has to be a middle ground – upper economy, perhaps. For someone who rarely sleeps on planes, my return flight was torture. I’ve also realised that if I’m working away, I need to be staying in a place where I feel safe, comfortable and where the conditions are more or less equivalent to what I have at home. Holidays are one thing – I’d be happy sleeping in a beach hut if all I have to do is lie on the beach the next day – but business travel is a different kettle of fish.

And I’ve realised that if I continue to accept working conditions and a salary I know do not value my skills and experience then I am one who’ll suffer – the anger and resentment I feel (mainly towards myself for accepting the job in the first place) will find its way out somehow, often through overeating or other unhealthy behaviours. So in order to take good care of myself, I need to give myself what I deserve and make sure I don’t accept less than I deserve from others.

I’ve never been great at asking for what I need or standing my ground, particularly in the face of people I see as authority figures (a throw-back to my childhood) but the more I do it, the easier it becomes. The bottom line is I have a choice. It’s pretty simple. It might be scary for a while. I might find myself having to turn down work and therefore money but as someone mentioned to me a few weeks back, sometimes we have to let go of the mediocre to make way for the truly amazing.

I also spent some time this week wondering why my life doesn’t flow as smoothly as I’d like it to. I did actually start writing a blog post that began “If this page could talk, it’d scream ‘Arrrrgggghhhh!'” but I didn’t get very far with that one. Maybe because I allowed myself to process the thoughts and feelings and to come out the other side. No, my life doesn’t always flow as I’d like it to. I’d love to be able to return from Mozambique or all my other trips and tell my friends “Yes, it was fabulous!” rather than report a rather mixed experience of ups and downs. But I can see now that I often set myself up to fail, as it where. Often, I’ll have had a gut feeling about something – that it wasn’t the right time for the trip or that I needed to speak up about the conditions or whatever it is – but I’ll have kept quiet and not trusted my instinct. I then end up in a situation that is difficult to cope with and I fall back on old habits – overeating, obsessive thinking, insomnia. So I reap what I sow.

I guess the answer is to continue this journey of getting to know myself better, to continue to unburden myself of all the extra padding – of fear or hurt or past experience – that smothers and muffles my instinct and to build up my courage and trust in myself. As I was pondering all this, I came across a Bible verse that really spoke to me: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness”  (2 Corinthians 12 verse 9). I love the idea that God can take my weaknesses and transform them into something powerful, perhaps something that can help others. I also love the fact that we’re united in weakness. I feel particularly close to my friends or family when we are sharing our struggles and our weaknesses with each other.

On the topic of sharing our struggles and inspiring others, I wanted to point out a really moving blog post by Jody Day of Gateway Women, an organisation that aims to support, empower and inspire women without children. I found Jody’s post about the purported selfishness of childfree women really touching, particularly where she talks about grieving for the children she hasn’t had while also finding meaning and purpose in a childfree existence. This is all very relevant to me, given where I am in my life – 40, single and, to date, childfree. A number of my friends are also in a similar position to me, hoping they’ll have their own babies before it’s too late.

And finally, a big thank you to social entrepreneur and business consultant Sinead Mac Manus of 8fold, who I’ve mentioned before on this site, for reminding me yesterday that we need to turn things into habits in order to be able to stick with them. I’ve been struggling with incorporating regular exercise into my freelance journalism life. I start the day with grand plans to get to yoga at lunchtime or for a swim before 4 pm – the last entry under my off-peak gym membership – but so many times I just carry on working until it’s too late or I resolve to exercise the following day – but then I end up sitting too long at my desk and doing the same thing. The answer, as Sinead said, is to turn exercise into a habit. It’s about making a regular appointment with myself and ring fencing that time in my schedule. So, it’s now 3:27 pm and I was planning to get to the gym today before 4 pm – let’s see if I make it!

Posted in Eating disorders, Fertility, Health, Leisure, Self-Acceptance, Travel, Trust, Uncategorized, Women | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

Mixed feelings

Posted on July 2, 2011 by Katherine Baldwin

So, it’s been an interesting week here in Maputo and both sides of my split personality have been fully present.

The view from a Maputo beach

The side of me that comes alive in foreign climes and gets a buzz from the sights, sounds, smells, tastes, beautiful colours and idiosyncrasies of a different culture has had a really good dose of what she loves. Although I’ve been working all week – training African journalists – and haven’t had much time to explore, there have been many small, daily encounters with the local culture that have brought a smile to my face and reminded me how privileged I am to have so many opportunities to travel, to explore, to teach, to learn from others and to mix with people from around the world.

It’s been great fun trying to communicate in Portuguese all week – laughing at my own errors but also noticing the improvements that come with eight days of practice. It’s been amusing trying to navigate the broken pavements and chaotic traffic of Maputo on a 10-minute walk every morning to catch a minibus to work. And the locally caught shrimp has tasted great. I’ve also been blessed by the friendliness and hospitality of so many people and have chuckled at some of the peculiarities of the Mozambican way of life (a rather relaxed attitude to time keeping by some of my dear local friends, for example – this blog post was possible because a friend was over three hours late picking me up! – or not being able to leave the store without showing my receipt to the man on the door whose job it is to look at it intently, check I haven’t stolen anything and scribble his approval on it).

At the same time, however, I’ve struggled to sleep in unfamiliar beds, surrounded by unfamiliar noises and with light streaming in from outside (I have blackout blinds at home!). This lack of sleep has meant I’ve been in a permanent state of exhaustion. I’ve also missed being able to wander into my own kitchen and eat what I feel like – despite all the tasty food here – or make regular cups of peppermint tea. And over the last few days, I’ve suffered with eye irritation and woke up this morning to find one of my eyelids so swollen that I looked like one of those close-up images of a fly. While this could be a highly serious and life-threatening condition (according to my Internet research), it’s more likely to be a mild allergy that will soon go away. But when I looked at my puffy eyelids in the mirror this morning and felt rather distressed, I did wonder whether my body and mind are really up to any more of these exhausting weeks spent working away from home.

Petals in the swimming pool of my pretty little hotel

Of course, the worst thing for me about feeling exhausted is that it generally leads to overeating – I foolishly think that excess food and sugar in particular are the answers to tiredness and stress – and that has been the case this week. Of course, my intelligent self knows that the answers to tiredness and stress are sleep, rest and relaxation. A few more hours spent sitting in the sun on the tranquil terrace of my hotel would have helped. But when sleep isn’t possible and there’s no time for relaxation, my old habits kick in and I assume food will do the trick. And unfortunately, sugar has been readily available all week (in the form of cans of Coca Cola – I can’t remember the last time I drank a can of full-sugar coke – and sweets and cakes at morning and afternoon break during my journalism course). Of course, I wasn’t the only one indulging in the daily sweet treats that were on offer and I wasn’t the only one acknowledging that all the junk food wasn’t healthy or good for the figure. But given my history with overeating and my battles with negative body image, I know I’m not like other people when it comes to over-indulgence. It messes with my head, it affects my mood and I dwell on it for far too long. That said, I can also see my progress. In the past I would have over-indulged in much larger quantities and then found a way to continue to eat in private. At least this time I managed to moderate my food intake to a degree and while I feel a little larger, rather unhealthy and full of sugar, I can learn from the experience and get on with my day instead of beating myself up or continuing the cycle of self-harm.

Now, if I look back at what I’ve written, I can see there are more words about the negatives than the positives. I’m not sure that’s a fair representation. The jury is still out. I’ve met some wonderful people, laughed a lot and had the privilege of imparting what I’ve learned over 16 years in journalism to bright, willing and enthusiastic reporters from Mozambique, Angola and Cape Verde who haven’t had the opportunities to learn, train and travel that I have had. I think I know I don’t want to give up doing these foreign trips – it’s about finding a way to do them without ending up so exhausted and stressed. I know that I also tend to take life, and my work, too seriously. I’m not sure how to get the balance between being professional and maintaining high standards of work and chilling out, giving myself a break and taking it easy now and then. I’m hoping I’ll get there in the end but for today, I think I still take things too seriously and push myself too hard.

Even this battered old fishing boat is colourful

All that said, the world is too big and too colourful and there’s too much to see and experience to stop travelling. And work is definitely a cost-effective way to travel that brings me into contact with the local culture more than a short holiday might. I realise, though, that I deserve to find a good balance between travel for work and travel for pleasure and fun. Right now, it seems to be too much about work and not enough about fun. I hope that next time I come to Mozambique, I’ll have time to explore its beaches and enjoy more of its amazing colours, sights, sounds, music and culture – that it will be less work and more play.

Mozambique's extremely colourful national flag

Posted in Body Image, Eating disorders, Fun, Leisure, Travel, Uncategorized, Women | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Split personality

Posted on June 25, 2011 by Katherine Baldwin

There’s me, and then there’s me. There’s the me who doesn’t want to stray far from home, who likes to sleep in her own bed every night and who wants to be firmly ensconced in a regular routine for weeks on end – the kind of routine that brings a sense of stability and belonging. This side of me loves it when I can see a long stretch ahead without any travel and gets really excited (yes, really excited!) when I can do a good-sized supermarket shop to last more than a week, because I’ll know I’ll be around to eat it before it goes off. This is the side of me that is a little tired of foreign trips and the challenges that come with them – the tiredness following overnight flights, the feelings of loneliness and vulnerability that come with being a lone woman in a foreign place and the frustrations of dealing with a different culture. This is the side of me that loves having all my clothes and shoes to hand, instead of ending up half way around the world without enough warm stuff or a particular accessory. And this is the side of me that really just wants to explore the beauty of my own country and culture – its stunning coastlines and countryside, its rich history and tradition – after years of trotting the globe, living abroad and eschewing what in the past I felt to be the rather boring British Isles. This side of me has even come to accept the British weather as just right – not too hot, not too cold and with glorious seasons.

But then there’s the other side of me – the side of me that can’t believe I ever doubted taking a trip, the side of me that comes to life in foreign places, that gets a real buzz from communicating in another language and that loves being able to slip into a different culture with relative ease. This side of me loves the sunshine and the heat of foreign climes and revels in the adventure and opportunity that comes with travelling alone as well as the occasional adrenalin boost that comes with taking risks. I’ve always found that as a solo traveller, I meet more people, I’m more adventurous and I push the boundaries a little. I’m not the reckless woman I’ve been in the past but I can sometimes still throw caution to the wind. This side of me is an adventurer who just wants to explore and keep on exploring.

So which of these two sides is the real me? Well, I guess they both are and the key is to find a way to reconcile the two. I’m in Maputo, Mozambique, on a work trip and since I arrived yesterday the two sides of me have been present. Last night, as I recovered from an overnight flight that consisted of two movies and just a tiny bit of sleep, I felt exhausted, a little lonely and vulnerable. I was missing my bed, my friends at the end of the phone and my jeans and boots (the days are hot but the evenings are chilly). But I’d also felt the exhilaration of speaking Portuguese and of encountering a different culture and had chatted to a few interesting people on the journey over. So while some in the immigration queue huffed and puffed at the slowness of the officials, I took delight in the benevolent chaos and informality of their system. And I loved the fact that when I got a little lost yesterday evening trying to find my hotel in the dark, most of the people I asked were willing to go out of their way to walk or drive me around the streets until I found it.

The view from my breakfast table

And as I ate fresh papaya for breakfast in the sunshine with all the colours, sounds and smells of the city all around me, it felt good to be on foreign soil once again. That desire to explore has returned today. I want to walk along the beach, eat the locally caught shrimp, feel the heat of the sun and immerse myself in the culture (I’ll stop writing soon and get on with it!).

But for all the excitement and adventure of exploring alone, I guess I’ve reached the stage in my life where I’d give up the adrenalin and opportunity of solo travel for the companionship and fun that comes with sharing new experiences with somebody else. I don’t mind my own company, in fact I’ve learned to really enjoy it, but the highlights of life aren’t these solitary moments but the times when I’m enjoying the company of others.

That brings me on to something I was writing a few days ago but didn’t manage to finish before I left for Mozambique. I was pondering my last post, Perseverance pays off, and it occurred to me that perseverance is so much easier if you’re not on your own. It was easier for two of us to stand in a long queue in the rain at Wimbledon on Monday and it’s easier to get anything done if you’ve got someone cheering you on. It’s not so much safety in numbers but strength in numbers. No wonder so many people take on personal trainers, mentors and coaches. Only the most self-disciplined amongst us can get to the gym as often as we want to without someone encouraging us – or without the knowledge we’ve paid for something so we’d better do it! – and life and business coaching wouldn’t have exploded in recent years if it didn’t bring concrete benefits. Whether it’s physical, spiritual or emotional, we learn more, grow more, accomplish more, have more fun and generally live life more fully when we’re in company. I guess that’s the basis of church services and mid-week home groups, youth clubs, 12-step addiction recovery meetings, group therapy practices, exercise classes in gyms, trainers, coaches, mentors and, at the root of it all, partnership and family. In short, it’s the basis of relationship.

On that note, I’ll just share that as I watched two beautiful girls play around the hotel terrace this morning as their young mother worked on her laptop, I wondered if I’d ever be in that position. I wondered if all those years of pursuing adventure, excitement, solo travel and independent living had meant I’d left it too late to have my own family. But, once again, it comes back to trust and acceptance – what will be, will be.

I love these colours

Before I go off to explore some sights, sounds and colours of a tiny part of this beautiful country, a quote from English writer Aldous Huxley. I’m not sure why I think this is relevant to this post but I saw it on the Twitter feed of Psychologies Magazine (@PsychologiesMAG) and I liked it: “Happiness is not achieved by the conscious pursuit of happiness; it is generally the by-product of other activities.”

Posted in Fun, Leisure, Relationships, Spirituality, Travel, Uncategorized, Women | Tagged , , , , | 10 Comments