Hibernation

Several years ago, the proverbial “all hell broke loose” experience happened to me. My second marriage, an established career, relationships with my adult children, finances – they all imploded. The ecosystem of my life tumbled head over heels. My ‘successful’ life, as I knew it, ground to a halt, enveloped in a wreckage of chaos. Overnight, it seemed, I went from representing the standard societal norms of success, to being a ‘big loser.’ Overwhelmed with anxiety and stress, I was immobilized, incoherent and bereft. My former cheery, positive thinking orientation packed and left the building. Putting this experience in ecological terms, it was as though I had been razed and clear-cut, and everything that I had grounded myself in, (my personal narratives), disappeared, due to personal deforestation. I was a brownfield, desperately in need of renewal.

It’s one thing to feel dead, and even to long for, the experience of death – to rid oneself of living as a shell, a mere caricature of oneself. It’s another thing entirely to rebuild from the ground floor up, to move torturously through the debris of a former life, scanning intently for any signs of life and turning away from what was clearly dead. This is called resilience and perhaps this was ultimately what emerged, albeit unconsciously. It was clear to everyone including myself, that foundationally, I was starting over. With what resources? What narratives? Thankfully, I had already immersed myself in the study of ecopsychology, and the path through the thicket seemed obvious.

When does nature shut down? Hibernation, according to an internet search, “is an adaptive move by animals in winter. It is a survival strategy when the environment is harsh, and food is scarce. It is a state of inactivity, where animals conserve energy.” These conditions were clearly present in the winter of my discontent and hibernation presented not only as the natural choice, but also as my only option. It felt like an act of self preservation to give in, sit still and shut down, conserving any residue of remaining energy. In effect, the only active act I can recall from that time, was giving myself permission to shut down, go into hibernation, however long, and wait for some spark of renewal (if indeed, this renewal would come), and experience what nature did, all on its own, as one waited, frozen into place by the chaos that was my life. What resonates with me now, as I have moved gradually out of hibernation, is that it’s commonly a long-term state, where metabolism slows drastically and is a coma-like condition which takes some time to recover from! How apt that imagery! And, how interesting that my thinking while in hibernation was so impacted by the harsh judgment of myself for this long-term season, and thinking it was pathology that kept me sitting still so long! Once one starts looking, the cultural norms are so abundantly obvious.

What emerged in this ‘as yet’ reluctant, sitting-still place? So much. The first guest to show up on a regular and unremitting timetable was all-consuming fear, when you realize for the first time ever, that there is no savior, including yourself. That life happens, and those seasons of loss are part of the journey. Ecologically, it was simple but so helpful, to lean into the reality of seasons. To understand and accept that there are seasons, which have the potential to pulverize you and, in those seasons, counting on your energy to propel you is out of the question. Bone-chilling winter had arrived! That sometimes, in such a winter of life, there is no hero or heroine, alive in yourself. All is still, except for incessant mind-chattering. In those moments, there is nothing but quagmire, a despair beyond knowing. Energy, or the lack of it, is uppermost in this place. The acceptance of the necessity of a season of hibernation begin to grow.

The next happening to emerge in the ‘unbecoming’ stage of slothful hibernation, was the rapid arrival of the well-meaning with their platitudes. The biblical experience of Job had arrived at my doorstep, along with the friends. Sloth does not find easy acceptance in the suburbs of Canada. It seems that the accepted antidote for recovery from the slings and arrows of life is a bit of ‘elbow grease’, and a ‘roll up the sleeves’ attitude. Everything happens for a reason apparently, and behind the horrific happenings is a benevolent reason! Apparently, recovery is based on getting up and getting on with it, combined with a heavy dose of positive thinking. Life will become immeasurably better, I am assured as soon as I embrace the fact that, just around the corner is a better place, one where I will be grateful for the experience of the current trauma. Hibernation, as a natural response to my harsh environment was alarming and filled with pathology. A week or two, sure, but how long, would this be going on?

Here, nature and culture clashed. Hibernation, I learned is not supported as a long-term state, and humans are urged to get up, get going and get over it. Although, as I reflect more deeply on the thinking, I do believe it is a function of language which has hidden hibernation from humans as a viable and appropriate response to an overly harsh season in life. We call it depression, immobilization. Perhaps we fear that saying ‘yes’ to sitting still is too scary. Perhaps, this human response is rooted in an ecological force of self-preservation - survival did depend on resilience and activity. However, it is interesting that hibernation as a form of self-renewal, utterly dependent on forces other than human self-will, as a place of trusting something greater than our own efforts is not embraced broadly as a natural and healthy response to severely traumatic events. As a psychological attitude it can be envisioned as nature’s spiritual core, a place of “giving over to a power greater than oneself’. This is not a place of apathy or victimhood, but of giving up the belief that you, the human, are in control, that without you making things happen, nothing will. I gave up, in the stage of hibernation, the belief that I could make everything go well, if I only worked at it long enough or with enough effort. I also gave up the belief that everything will go badly if I’m not actively working at preventing it. When the world crashes, despite the mammoth effort expended, to hold it together, many unhealthy habits have a way of finally dying. Hibernation, especially a long-term season, teaches that renewal is possible, sometimes only when we play a small supporting role, including slowing down our breathing and yielding to rest.

There is something else I find refreshing about an acceptance of the necessity from time to time of a season of hibernation. Life is ultimately messy, unpredictable, and chaotic. Bad things (if we want to keep calling them that), happen – to everyone. The walking wounded are everywhere, silent, and sometimes, not so silent, witnesses to the unpredictable nature of nature. Tornado’s, earthquakes, etc., all speak to the tumult that is present in nature. And yet, faced with this reality, humans focus predominately on their ability to “weather the storms’, to predict and fortify ourselves against the odds. There is little to support recovery through shutting down, to becoming coma-like, to letting our ecology take over in supporting renewal. Decolonizing this mythology through an awareness of the necessity of the cycle of hibernation, of yielding to the force of sleep, cocooning oneself, of active separation from energy-draining activities was a radical act of self-preservation, The experience of hibernation illuminates the way forward. What is extremely powerful, and transformative of much of our current mythologies about trauma, is that through the experience of hibernation, the work of letting go occurs naturally. All the excess fat of unnecessary beliefs slowly dissolve. Waking up after yielding yields a stripped-down belief system, ready to consume what is necessary for healthy renewal. My religion, if I want to use that word, now is the knowledge that our very ecology supports life- renewal. Such creative force exists in letting go.

Another thing to note about my hibernation cycle is that there were necessary supports in place. Animals make a den for shelter when hibernation is necessary, and they also need reserves of fat. In my circumstances, my immediate needs were supplied. I had a shelter and enough reserves of fat (economically), to weather a hibernation season. My reduced energy meant that funds were conserved from usual activities to be diverted to the most basic needs. Despite the fear, I had, what I needed in the moment. Without these resources, my energy could not have gone underground, and I could not have yielded to the necessity of hibernation. Ecologically it is interesting to notice that resources in nature are diverted to where they are most needed, when they are most needed. This speaks to the primary needs of shelter and enough (just enough) food, as predominant, in order to navigate the requirements of a season of hibernation, when it comes calling. As life demands that it should.

Hibernation is powerful in de-throning the ego. Especially an ego which was so solidly based in doing, in being active, a powerful problem-solver persona. All beliefs which crumble in a season of non-doing. Breathing and being deliberately slow do not fit easily in our fast-paced active culture. I find it ironic to pay attention now to all the information about slowing down, of mindfulness, of not multi-tasking. Despite the now common, acceptance of this necessity, for decreasing stress, western culture still allows this slowing down, to take place in increments of 10 minutes per day. We are advised to get up even earlier to find time to meditate for ten to fifteen minutes in order to be better able to manage our ever-busier days. In examining these mythologies for de-stressing, it does seem to me that building structure of minute increments for slowing down the pace of life, is not ecological.