After all this time

Biometrics always felt unnecessary to me. Do I want to see a chart of my stress responses? Will a sleep grade after a restless night help? It’s always been a no. But perimenopause humbled me. Wild and unpredictable symptoms that ranged from heart palpitations to worry loops left me desperate. Was there a “good” reason to be anxious, or was my body just riding estrogen and cortisol waves?

When I started wondering if I could trust my own experience, I broke down and bought an Oura ring and a glucose monitor. I found myself glued to my phone, checking how lunch affected my blood sugar, how I slept, what day of my cycle I was on, how close I was to hitting my activity targets, and whatever else Oura wanted to show me. This fixation unearthed some useful data.

When my body temperature increases, so does my glucose sensitivity. Suddenly it made sense when I’d be sitting on the couch reading, supposedly at rest, while my heart felt like it might beat out of my chest. Glucose spikes feel like anxiety. Understanding the difference between emotional and physiological stress is life changing. Sometimes there’s nothing to fix, and only a body to soothe.

Oura also tracked the time my body spent in stress and restoration each day. Was it healthy that I began trying to make the blue restorative bar greater than the pink stress bar? I think so. Apparently, my body’s stressed when I’m on social media, getting ready to leave the house, or exercising. On the other hand, when I was journaling, it tended to be in a restorative state. Of course, this was also true of meditation, but journaling was interesting because I reach for it when I’m anxious.

This insight arrived as permission. I’ve felt guilty about journaling for most of my life. Mostly, I snuck it in at 5:00 a.m. while my family was sleeping and before work began dinging on all of my devices. Journaling felt self-indulgent. A luxury. It wasn’t productive because it wasn’t real writing.

While I’m grateful for my Oura ring experience, I’m not planning to keep wearing it around the clock. My personality tilts toward self-criticism. When I woke up vowing to do better because I hadn’t slept well or was more stressed than usual, it was time to put it in a drawer. Stress is part of experience. It’s unavoidable. I can avoid blaming myself for my stress and keep reminding myself of the second arrow. Self-blame for being shot with an arrow is like shooting yourself with another one.

But I’m keeping the journaling. After all this time, I’m laying down lots of ink.

From my journal, here’s my list of what journaling is for:
Figuring things out
Trying things out
Seeing what’s here, giving it form
Not having to be good or perfect or edited or polished
Being messy
Being real
Being curious
Being
Not knowing
Beginning. Again. Again. Again.
Witnessing
Playing without performing
Restoration
Refuge
Planting seeds for art and life