Losing the death hold of my inner Scrooge

As someone who does not believe in New Year’s resolutions but firmly trusts in the momentum of end-of-year sprints, I was delighted when I came across Anne-Laure Le Cuff’s article The Practice of Self-Curiosity. She describes with great clarity how curiosity can counteract our natural drift and nudge us toward becoming a slightly better version of ourselves. Her words stayed with me.

They made me realise that this is exactly what I have been doing these last months, almost without noticing. Feeling resistance rise in me, then quietly asking what loosening it might look like. If the journey on the ship taught me anything, it was how marvellous it feels to rediscover and reinvent parts of oneself that had been dormant for years.

I have already written about how, after a lifetime of busy-ness, I’ve discovered the wonder of doing nothing. Or, to put it more specifically, giving myself time to think. Looking out at sea, or now out of my living room window, letting my mind wander. This invariably presents a bundle of coloured threads for me to choose from, and then I begin to untangle the one thought from the knotted mess. I am learning to loosen some of the knots. To deal with the frustration and tightness that appear when I have to double back. To rejoice when a thread finally releases itself. This time to think is becoming a new habit of mine. Not every day, but more and more present.

The next belief I have been questioning is my fear of illness and distrust of doctors. Our general practitioner, whom I went to for over twenty years, once told me when I was in my fifties that if I hoped to have the gift of a long life, I needed to change my relationship to illness. She pointed out, bluntly but kindly, that there will come a time when our bodies break down. Some quickly, others more slowly. The only thing we can do, and not everyone has this privilege, is to take care of ourselves as best we can and seek medical help when needed.

Even though she told me this nearly twenty years ago, I have remained a reluctant patient. The annual checkups my age requires are made like a pouting child refusing a spoonful of cod liver oil. My daughter has a different perspective. She believes that receiving a difficult diagnosis is easier to bear if one has done regular checkups, which might catch illnesses at an early stage. She also reminds me how fortunate we are that our social medical system functions reasonably well. We are allowed to see specialists and have access to preventative measures.

Since returning from the ship, I have received a diagnosis for a chronic autoimmune disease, thankfully at an early stage.

The process of getting the diagnosis has been surprisingly a positive experience. The doctors have been both competent and deeply humane, answering all my questions with care. Their confidence gives me confidence. Medicine helps, but my daughter and research have also helped me understand the condition better. Adjusting my diet and increasing physical activity can only be beneficial. Instead of fear, I find myself leaning on the doctors for guidance and focusing on optimism by living a sound daily routine.

The last sprint or habit I am tackling is one I have nurtured faithfully for most of my adult life: my dislike of Christmas. My inner Scrooge. I have justified this fault to family and friends by explaining that I am not religious, I don’t know if Jesus ever lived, I despise the commercialism of the season, and I do not enjoy making a fuss for tradition’s sake. Bah humbug.

In her article, Anne-Laure Le Cuff’s five-step process for questioning one’s beliefs has helped me understand that the point is not to analyse why I dislike Christmas, but to imagine what it would feel like to take part in the celebrations willingly. That small shift in thinking has already changed how I’m feeling about the coming weeks. I may still roll my eyes at certain rituals, but perhaps this year I will roll them with a touch more generosity. Change, after all, often begins with the smallest experiment. And I am curious to see where this one leads.