According to my roommate, C, I should have run barefoot in the snow when I was a child.
Let me back up and explain that. Last week, the temperature dropped about 30 degrees overnight. It went from high 90's to 60s/70s really quickly, and I was NOT anticipating the change. I was perfectly happy in the un-air-conditioned apartment when it was almost 100 degrees out. I'm weird, I know! I was perfectly comfortable, not over-heated, just right in 100º heat. There's clearly something wrong with me.
I had decided to wear a nice tweed dress to my appointment with the Spanish bureaucrats (everything goes more smoothly when you dress like you mean it here), so I grabbed a light jacket and a scarf to help against the cold. They were not nearly enough. By the time I got home that evening, I was so cold, I felt like I was freezing from the inside (and maybe coming down with something).
So I pulled out the down comforter to warm myself up.
When C noticed this, she had a mild conniption. It's not nearly cold enough for the down! You'll die of heatstroke if you sleep in that! When winter comes, you won't have anything warmer to put on the bed!
And so we got to talking about sauna culture in Northern Europe and about her time growing up in Switzerland, where she had to run a footrace barefoot through the snow every January during elementary school. She maintains that exposing yourself to frigid temperatures bolsters the immune system and helps prevent allergies and gosh knows what other type of illness. I'm sure it does to some extent. My body just hates the trauma of anything colder than 98º.
I mention this because the need to be warm and cozy is one of the aspects of self-care that I have discovered during recovery from trichotillomania. If I notice that I'm cold, I can shiver (there are days where I have actually forced myself to stand in my office shivering in order to warm myself up. It actually works wonders.) I can get up and walk around, shake out my hands and feet to get my circulation moving and my blood pumping. Or alternatively, I can meditate and notice how the stillness helps my pulse even out throughout the body. But the most important thing is to notice. To bring discomfort into awareness and either sit with it and accept it or take productive action to heal it, rather than numb it.
Let me back up and explain that. Last week, the temperature dropped about 30 degrees overnight. It went from high 90's to 60s/70s really quickly, and I was NOT anticipating the change. I was perfectly happy in the un-air-conditioned apartment when it was almost 100 degrees out. I'm weird, I know! I was perfectly comfortable, not over-heated, just right in 100º heat. There's clearly something wrong with me.
I had decided to wear a nice tweed dress to my appointment with the Spanish bureaucrats (everything goes more smoothly when you dress like you mean it here), so I grabbed a light jacket and a scarf to help against the cold. They were not nearly enough. By the time I got home that evening, I was so cold, I felt like I was freezing from the inside (and maybe coming down with something).
So I pulled out the down comforter to warm myself up.
When C noticed this, she had a mild conniption. It's not nearly cold enough for the down! You'll die of heatstroke if you sleep in that! When winter comes, you won't have anything warmer to put on the bed!
And so we got to talking about sauna culture in Northern Europe and about her time growing up in Switzerland, where she had to run a footrace barefoot through the snow every January during elementary school. She maintains that exposing yourself to frigid temperatures bolsters the immune system and helps prevent allergies and gosh knows what other type of illness. I'm sure it does to some extent. My body just hates the trauma of anything colder than 98º.
I mention this because the need to be warm and cozy is one of the aspects of self-care that I have discovered during recovery from trichotillomania. If I notice that I'm cold, I can shiver (there are days where I have actually forced myself to stand in my office shivering in order to warm myself up. It actually works wonders.) I can get up and walk around, shake out my hands and feet to get my circulation moving and my blood pumping. Or alternatively, I can meditate and notice how the stillness helps my pulse even out throughout the body. But the most important thing is to notice. To bring discomfort into awareness and either sit with it and accept it or take productive action to heal it, rather than numb it.
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