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The Pace of a Human Life

A person wearing a big hat sits looking out to some mountains with a washing line in front of them

This piece is part of my wider work supporting parents through pregnancy, early parenthood and beyond. Much of this writing is made possible by the support of The Baby Village and the Growing Together Village — communities of parents who value honest conversations, reflection and mutual support as they navigate family life. This post comes out of the Regulation Challenge, where this week we are exploring what it means to actively choose the pace we engage in our lives at. It’s written for those inside the challenge — but really, it’s for anyone living in a culture that quietly expects us to operate at full capacity all the time.


This morning I’ve had a flare-up of back pain. This is an annoying health issue I’ve lived with since I was a teenager, and it has caused me so much suffering.

Not only in the actual pain and limitations it causes me, but even more relevantly, in the ways I’ve struggled to accept it as part of my reality.

I have berated myself, been angry at the unfairness of it, blamed myself, pushed through when I needed to rest, felt it was a personal failing, felt overwhelmed with guilt about letting people down, felt ashamed, and much more.

This kind of suffering can be understood as a separate layer of suffering that we cause ourselves through an inability to accept the reality of things that are out of our control. In the example of health or energy restrictions, it is also exacerbated by grind culture and the expectation to be working at full capacity at all times — otherwise our sense of self-worth is threatened. We both do this to ourselves, and it is done unto us.

There is another blog post here about the mindfulness concept of the second arrow — the second layer of suffering we add ourselves in moments of struggle. You can read that here (subscribers only access).

We will all be sick sometimes.

We will all need to rest.

This is simply part of our humanity, not a moral failing.

A person tucked under a blanket


Yes, it is inconvenient. Yes, it is annoying. Yes, it can be difficult to navigate for ourselves and for anyone who relies on us. But it is pretty much non-negotiable.

You cannot think yourself into not experiencing bad health.

The amount of rest we need can be very individual, wildly differing and life-stage specific.

And if you do not find or make time to rest (whatever that means for you), there will be a cost. Perhaps your patience is the cost. Perhaps it is your creativity. Perhaps it is your ability to enjoy parts of your life. Perhaps it is your ability to make good decisions, feel connected to others, or your health.

In fact, there is a growing body of research linking chronic stress and lack of rest to long-term health issues — including cardiovascular disease, immune dysfunction and mental health difficulties¹.

Finding how we navigate this form of choosing our pace is a key part of long-term nervous system regulation. In a world that does not value this, or allow much space for it, it can take years — even decades — to figure out how to make this happen. And it can be impossible to make it happen in a simple or straightforward way.

Because of course, not adhering to grind culture also has a cost: money, career progression, time, and sometimes a loss of respect from those who do not want to challenge the status quo. Each of us must grapple with the choices available to us and the choices we make in this respect — and the role our individual circumstances and privilege play in what is realistically available to us.

The crunch points that expose our pace

When our health falters, this is a crunch point for noticing the wider pace of our lives.

Having children provides another crunch point.

Two parents look lovingly at a baby

In this intense time of life, when we need rest and support in ways we may never have before, we feel the reality of the cost of both the pace expected of us and the pace we expect of ourselves being out of balance. Most of us feel the overwhelm — the impossibility of how we are meant to hold and do so much.

Perimenopause is another crunch point.

This is one of the reasons so many women and people reaching this stage of life struggle. The system isn’t set up for us to rest and regulate in the way we need to, while still valuing the experience and contribution we bring to the world. And with the changing hormonal cocktail on top of that, we are furious.

Perimenopausal rage is often spoken about as if it exists in isolation from the real and valid things we are angry about. The same is true of motherhood rage. If we are regularly feeling rage or anger, it is always worth investigating with a curious and open mind: What if we assume the emotion is valid? What are we really angry about? Where does that anger stem from beyond the surface? But that’s a different blog post.

In this week of the Regulation Challenge where we are exploring the pace of our lives, it’s worth thinking about the wider picture too.

I find one of the simplest ways to think about this wider pace is to aim to live life at no more than 90% capacity. Leave 10% wiggle room in your life for the inevitable moments of sickness (yours or your children’s), hormonal fluctuations (yours or others in your family), and moments of heightened work or family stress or conflict.

This stuff is not unpredictable — it is totally inevitable — so plan it into your capacity.

In times of lowered capacity, such as periods of heavy grief, ongoing physical or mental health issues, trauma processing, or increased caring responsibilities, maybe aim to pace your life at 80%.

That extra 10–20% isn’t “free time”. It isn’t doing nothing. It is valuable time for rest and regulation. It is immensely productive — just not in the way we usually think about productivity.

Two people sit on a bench looking out to sea. Others walk along a path in the background


Having time to go for walks, do tasks slowly, stare out of the window daydreaming, lie in the arms of loved ones (children or adults), take to bed and cry, absorb art through books or music, find solitude, move our bodies through dance, yoga or sport, engage in creative practices such as craft or music, hang out with friends and family and spend time in nature.

I wonder what else belongs on this list for you?

A group of friends  sit and stand around a table laughing and smiling at each other


Those of you in the Regulation Challenge may notice that all the tools and practices we’re exploring belong on this list too. It’s one thing to learn regulation tools in theory, but if your life is so full that there is no space to actually use them, it becomes incredibly difficult to integrate them in any meaningful way.

You might be reading this and feeling that this is simply not possible. Not now. Maybe not ever. You might feel resistance. You might feel frustration. Your internalised grind culture might be telling you this is unrealistic or naïve.

I really get that.

One of the fundamental ideas that runs through my teaching and therapy work is this: If you keep doing what you’re doing, you will keep getting what you get.

Part of the reason our culture doesn’t change is that we hold it up by believing it cannot change.

I could not find ways to do this when my children were very little. But because of my health, I had to keep thinking about it. Over many years, I am slowly starting to make this more real in my life — not because it was easy, but because I kept it in mind.

I am not saying this is easy. I am not saying it will be possible for everyone. I am not saying you should make the same choices I make.

What I am saying is this: Let yourself think about it. Keep your eyes open to the culture that shapes you and the cost of the pace you live your life at. Make active, informed decisions about what you want for your life — because this is the only one you get.

As Mary Oliver wrote:

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?


A hand holds a cup of tea over a blanket. there is a book on the blanket too.

And this brings me back to this morning.

I have chosen to take the morning off work and cancel my classes. My back is not so bad that I cannot move. I probably could push through and teach my baby yoga class. In previous years, I would have done exactly that.

But I know the cost of pushing through. It makes it far more likely that this flare-up will last much longer, that I will spend more days unable to do things, rather than allowing it to settle within 24 hours.

I also know the familiar pull of the second-arrow suffering: I’m letting people down. I should push through. It’s lazy to rest unless you’re completely broken.

Today, I am choosing not to enact grind culture on myself.

I am choosing to rest.

It is still an uncomfortable decision. But after years of practising this, I know it is the right one for me. ¹ Research on chronic stress and long-term health outcomes

Harvard Health Publishing — Understanding the stress responsehttps://www.health.harvard.edu/staying-healthy/understanding-the-stress-response

PubMed Central — Neurobiological and systemic effects of chronic stresshttps://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC5573220/

If this piece has been helpful, you might like to know that The Baby Village offers access to further resources, community discussions and ongoing support for parents who want to keep exploring these themes together.

Subscribers are also invited to take part in the three Community Practice Challenges I run each year — Regulation (January), Mindfulness (March) and Compassion (September) — gentle, supported spaces to learn, reflect and practise alongside other parents.

Subscriber support helps sustain this work and makes it possible to continue offering reflective, accessible content for parents. If you’d like to be part of the community, you can find out more about The Baby Village here.

 
 
 

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