Just this past May I had a tad bit of a physical and mental health collapse. Dizzy spells, severe rosacea acne, crippling exhaustion, and all the moods a person can feel. I literally woke up in my hallway after a fainting spell and said to myself: “Self. Enough. Something has got to change.”

So off I trotted to the doctor and also to my naturopath and they told me all the things that are typical for women my age to hear: iron levels low, cortisol levels flatlined, issues with my digestive system, hormones way out of whack, adrenal fatigue. You know, the usual.

Loaded up with vitamins, antibiotics, Kombucha and a new personal trainer, I began the slow journey back to health. Which for the record, made me feel quite a bit worse before I felt better. I think women should know this.

But the real question I want to address in this post is “ HOW ? ” How does a smart, capable, intelligent, HELPING PROFESSIONAL (i.e. should know better) burn herself to the ground?

I’ve got a few thoughts on this…

There’s the usual stuff: I said “yes” when I should have said “no.” I skipped meals in lieu of Venti Starbucks. I’m a regular woman, juggling the relentless demands of parenthood, career, and relationships. I put myself last on the priority list. Yada yada yada…

All these things are true… yet, something happened to me during a personal training session recently that highlighted a stressor I had not considered: the weight of the stories we carry when we are helpers . Now don’t get me wrong, I love people’s stories, I am so deeply honored to be invited in to these stories. I believe all of us carry stories that are meant to be shared, as they join us in our humanity. Yet they do carry weight; there’s no denying it. I wouldn’t be the therapist I am if I didn’t feel deeply the injustice, grief, and anger of people's experiences.

My trainer Sarrah, who is an angel of a human, had me hitting a heavy bag as part of my workout. I’m not much of a fighter so this was new to me. During this particular pounding session, seemingly out of nowhere, I started crying. At first I was quite embarrassed, but she was having none of my shame. She stopped correcting my form and told me just to hit the darn bag as hard and as long as I needed. So I did.

And out of nowhere, this rage and grief started pouring out of me, punch after punch- all the tragedy and impossibly painful stories I hear in my practice. And it wasn’t just my counselling work, it was also the news stories of shootings, and children dying and overdose crisis and all the heaviness and wrongness and unfairness of the world that I carry in my big ol’ compassionate heart. It was the people who show up in my space imploring me to “fix” situations to which there is no solution, and it was the pressure I carry around trying to be good enough for these folks, to be useful to them.

And for all of my self-awareness, I literally had no idea that I was packing around that much pain and pressure. I always thought: “I’m good. I’ve got good boundaries. I’ve got a supervisor I process stuff with.”

Here’s a trauma truth from Dr. Bessel Van Der Kolk: trauma lives in our bodies. If we want to take care of ourselves, talk processing is not enough. We have got to get our bodies moving. I have now been converted to the truth that there is no other way to stay healthy in the work besides getting physical.

So here is my challenge to you helpers- and I mean you teachers, parents, nurses, social workers, youth care workers, best friends and spouses, and everyone else (you know who you are). As we enter back to our fall routines, I implore you to sign yourself up for a yoga class, a fitness class, HIIT class, or a running group. Anything! Just get your body moving so that you can keep on caring for your people. The world needs people like us to keep showing up.

I’m happy to report I’m feeling much better these days.

Big love to you all,

Christina