On one of those weeks and butternut squash tortellini soup
And a timely extract from Katherine May's Wintering
“I love the inconvenience the same way that I can sneakingly love a bad cold: the irresistible disruption to mundane life, forcing you to stop for a while and step outside of your normal habits.” —
, Wintering.
There are some Sundays you prep to do everything right. You neatly note your schedule for the upcoming week in your daily diary. you get an early night, preparing your body to be at the absolute optimum. You are busy so you have to take care of yourself. You mentally prepare, deep breath in, for the weeks, where everything is happening simultaneously.
Then Tuesday comes along and it’s 2 am and you’ve sweated through your bedsheets. You wake up with an awful cold and all the ducks you had in line are now feral. This wasn’t how the week was supposed to go.
The to-do list is thrown the wayside and replaced with your multiple half-empty containers of Vicks and where is the lemsip again? You feel sorry for yourself, this is frankly ruining the plan you had in mind. It was all meant to be under control, you say. The Woman In You Is Tired.
So you open up wintering by
and she informs you of what you need to be told.
I wrote that passage above in October 2024. Yet I seemed to be going through the same motions this week. The difference was that I fell badly down the stairs (I’m okay, don’t worry) which halted a well-controlled week ahead.
Burnout seems to be a twisted cycle for me; it does not matter how many sound baths I listen to, the number of hot saunas or the career changes I make, burnt out makes an appearance periodically.
The question within is always the same: why only when my body physically cannot do it any more do I allow myself real rest?
“After a couple of lessons, we fell into conversation about how I really use my voice. I was talking all day: buffeting along my family in the morning, and then, at work, spending all day using my voice to stake my claim in this world.
In the times between those moments, I was endeavouring to appear cheerful and friendly in the corridors and canteens, never allowed to nod and wave mutely as I dearly wanted to. Even in my silent moments, I was pounding through miles of email correspondence, usually with my teeth clamped together in an effort to remain clear, helpful and polite. I was like a lightbulb, always on. I was using my voice like a bludgeon, trying to force everyone else to listen.” — Katherine May, Wintering
It is not that wellness cannot work. The sound baths turn my brain off in what can only feel like ecstasy; the saunas make me pause after a day at my desk and the career changes are a matter of reshuffling priorities. It’s the anger that occurs when realising that real wellness is based in community — of having your close friends live a walk away and doing nothing with your favourite people. It’s a conscious infrastructure that cannot be saved solely by one.
Although life recently feels similar to the days pre-Covid, I believe a part of me becomes confused when I get worn down easily these days. I am in awe because I am not physically running from one fashion show to another anymore or living off five cups of coffee in a newsroom. Life, in fact, in a myriad of ways has slowed down.
In May’s echoes, I am always using my voice. I am always thinking, always writing, if not on here, in a journal, in my notes app, for journalism, in both work and personal emails. In love letters. Pouring always in my love letters. I am always using my voice and I forget how much energy my body needs for that in which to happen. I take it for granted often because it feels so natural for me to use my voice. I don’t necessarily suffer from imposter syndrome but what do they call it when you feel as though you have to always be your best?
“I suddenly saw my voice as a funnel, into which I was cramming all this weight, and asking it to create a measured stream of words that somehow mended everything.” — Katherine May, Wintering
While feeling sorry for myself and realising, that change is ultimately a long game, I turned any internal disharmony into a pasta soup. Something cosy and soothing while attempting to not obsess and ruminate when I do not have the answers.
I’m praying for our collective wellness during the Holy Month.
May we get there, our duas be answered and may we flourish. Keep me in your prayers, Lovies.
And an Early Ramadan Mubarak.
With aram and afiya,
Tahmina
A warm soup to heat the soul recipe
You will need:
stuffed tortellini
fresh soup - usually carrot, butternut squash
ginger, chilli, jeera, turmeric, salt, pepper
sourdough
spinach
a dollop of butter
Instructions:
Butter the pan
Add one to two cloves of garlic
A teaspoon of chilli powder
Teaspoon of turmeric
Half a teaspoon of jeera
As the spices cover the pan, pour in your chosen soup
I like the New Covent Garden Soup Co Carrot & Coriander Soup or the
or this Co’op Squash, Chilli and Coconut Soup. *If you use the latter, add more chilli to get more heat into your body
Stir but don’t let it boil
Pop in a handful of tortelloni shells. I prefer mine stuffed with spinach and ricotta
Put a lid on the top and allow the shells to boil in the soup
After 3-4 minutes, add two handfuls of spinach
Season with pepper, salt and chilli flakes to taste
Plate up and add a dollop of butter
If you like — cut up some fresh ginger to eat aside
