This is another story from our book Mindfulness for Transformation. The stories are written by members of our community.

By - Annabel Deans

The death of my beloved mum in 2007 had a massive impact on me. I watched as she battled courageously against the rare, painful autoimmune disease that would eventually consume her at just 67. She had been a nurse in our local hospital for 45 years, where she devoted her life to caring for others. So, the tables had turned: she was in a nursing home, where she was in need of constant care herself. It was so hard to watch her deteriorate and feel unable to make her better.

At the time, I had a toddler and a baby. I was exhausted from sleepless nights and the constant demands on my time and attention. I lived on autopilot. I suppose deep down I knew what was coming, but I couldn’t comprehend it. I was being pulled mindlessly forward, edging slowly towards the abyss. I felt a huge array of emotions. There was frustration and anger: why was this happening to her? Guilt: was I visiting her enough, while also trying to be with my young family? Was I being a good enough mother to my children? Could they detect my frame of mind and deep-rooted sadness? I felt jealous of my friends enjoying family life with their own mothers, when I couldn’t. I didn’t like the feelings that were arising within me and I often felt lonely, yet my coping strategies were limited. Wasn’t it best just to sweep it all under the carpet? Wouldn’t I be happier if I didn’t think about any of it and just got on with being a busy young mum?

After the initial grief of Mum’s death, which blindsided me, that’s exactly what I did. I packed all my natural emotions away in a small cupboard in the back of my mind. But my body hadn’t forgotten, and that emotional pain found a way to present itself. The next decade was a whirlwind. I felt like I was in a permanent hurry, with my stress levels sky-high. I talked fast, I sped everywhere and I was quick to anger because I felt overwhelmed. I went to see a coach, who told me in no uncertain terms to slow down if I wanted to achieve my goals. Those words struck like an arrow deep in my heart: there was so much truth in them.

Physically, my digestion was bad, my stomach was bloated and I had developed an allergic reaction to random foods that left my face swollen and my legs covered in hives. I visited a nutritionist who helped me, and this sparked an interest within me: I wanted to know how to have as healthy a body as possible. This was inpart fuelled by a fear that what had happened to Mum could happen to me. I started to change my diet, but a part of the puzzle was still missing.

I attended a vision board workshop run by a friend who was a health coach. Sitting with a group of strangers, I stuck pictures onto a whiteboard of things I wanted to manifest in my life that year. To be honest, I was a bit sceptical. Towards the end of the workshop, I asked where she had studied,and that night I looked up the course. This was it! A sudden decisiveness overtook me and two days later I had enrolled.

The course took a holistic view of health: it considered the personas a whole as well as nutrition. I was introduced to the mind-body connection for the first time. It was a lightbulb moment. I’d practised yoga for many years, so I was aware of the power of the breath, but the lectures on the science behind mindfulness and its myriad benefits were eye-opening. I listened to many different teachers and began reading more about mindfulness. The changes in me were subtle at first: I hadn’t reacted to a certain situation in the way I would normally; I was more patient and less stressed. If I just paused, I could respond rather than react. Wow! That was a revelation. I’d never realised there was a choice before!

Could my state of mind have a positive impact on my body? Well, the intense tension headaches were much less frequent. I could keep my endless ruminating in check. I was sleeping well and, if I did struggle, I would follow a breathing technique and it would help me to drift off. I began to radiate a new-found energy that people would often comment upon.

A wonderful by-product of my practice is that I have finally slowed down! I take the time to walk in nature and to really listen to the birds singing,the leaves rustling and the crunch of twigs under my feet. I pause to smell the roses in my garden and appreciate the lovely corner of England in which I live: all the things I had been just too busy to pay attention to before. My mind feels clearer, and there’s more room for creativity. Perhaps it was my freshly acquired focus that helped all the things on my vision board to come true in the end!

But the best thing of all is that I’ve realised it’s okay to feel negative emotions. I can open that dusty cupboard in the back of my mind and take a look inside. I can accept what’s there with kindness and just let those emotions be present. And when I acknowledge them in this way, their power over me fades. I feel so blessed to be starting on this new career in mindfulness in my late forties and to have discovered a new way of approaching life. It really feels like a gift from above: I like to think my mum had something to do with it, and I love passing this gift on to others.

Mindfulness is about the journey, not the destination, and I have come to accept that my path has been a long and meandering one.I’m still travelling along it daily, but with a lot more awareness than before. I now know how to greet whatever I find on this path with an open heart and with a lot more compassion.

I am so grateful for this new understanding of the connection between my mind and my body, each one working more in harmony with the other through my mindfulness practice. Overtime, small changes can make a big impact on your life.Remember: every journey starts with a single step, and I am proof that it is never too late to start. The best moment is the present moment!

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