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Care

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Trauma

18 October 2024

2 min read

Rushing recovery and failing the marshmallow test

I simply didn’t like being told ‘no’ even by my own body.

Mica Gray

Mica Gray is a wellbeing practitioner working in adult mental health. She is training to be a counselling psychologist.

A crutch is held in the hand of someone in pyjamas.

Towfiqu Barbhuiya on Unsplash.

For most of my life, I’ve identified as someone who would fail the marshmallow test—the famous experiment testing delayed gratification in children. In this test kids are presented with a marshmallow and told that if they don’t eat it and wait for ten minutes, they can have a second one. Like those kids who couldn’t wait for the second marshmallow, I rarely want to wait for things in life. And this desire for immediacy has been amplified by our culture of microwave meals and next-day deliveries. Within our convenience culture, this desire for immediacy finds itself at home. However, when recovering from recent surgery I found myself frustrated with the idea of waiting to heal. I wanted my recovery delivered quickly, like an Amazon package, so I could return to normal life.

But rushing through healing can come at a high cost. Studies show that athletes who return too soon after injury face a 60 per cent higher risk of further issues, and patients who resume normal activities before their bodies are ready suffer more complications, anxiety, and delayed healing. Though I was fortunate enough not to feel external pressure to rush back to work, I realised the real force pushing me to get back into normal life was pride. I simply didn’t like being told ‘no’ even by my own body. Furthermore, I didn’t like the feeling of being helpless and not in control of my own life - the feeling of appearing weak in the world.

Surgery humbled me, forcing me to admit that I am in fact weak and not in control. It invited me to surrender—to doctors, to my body, to friends, family and to the process as a whole. As I meditated on an ancient wisdom, from the Bible, “Patience is better than pride,” I found truth in it. Patience helped me recognize what pride didn’t; the strength of my body and the abundance of love and support around me.

In trying to rush back into normal life I was forcing my body beyond its capability and falling into the trap of believing that weakness is a shameful thing - rather than just part of our natural human experience. In waiting, I’ve experienced a deeper appreciation for my body, my community, and the gifts of rest and healing. These things are as sweet as a second marshmallow. If life is asking you to slow down and make space for recovery, lean into it. Set the boundaries you need and trust the process. From someone coming out on the other side, I can say it’s worth it.

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General Election 24

Morality

Politics

3 June 2024

3 min read

The morality of defection

Why I respect 'traitors'.

James Sampson-Foster

James is training to be a priest in the Church of England.

A man sits in a TV interview, below him is a captions stating 'Mark Lognan. Former Conservative MP

Mark Logan explains his move.

BBC.

Defection is a dirty word.

It evokes feelings of treachery. Betrayal. Backstabbing.

All in all it leaves a bad taste in the mouth.

Defectors always carry with them a whiff of suspicion.

Are they genuine, or are they just opportunists?

Who do they really work for?

What do they get out of it?

Have they truly renounced their old ways?

There has been a lot of defecting going on in UK Politics over the last few weeks. For good or ill, a number of political parties have members who, up until recently, wore rosettes of a different colour.

The defections have been dramatic – and public.

Think of the recent defections from the Conservatives to Labour. Two in a fortnight.

First Dan Poulter and then Nathalie Elphicke crossing the Commons floor with moments to spare before Prime Minister’s Questions. Then Mark Logan last week.

Perhaps one encouraged the other. Defections and resignations in politics always seem to arrive like buses.

And each of these defections was accompanied by a public story about why they’ve changed their minds. A testimony, if you will.

It was these stories which drew the most fire, from both former friends and new allies. In most cases, it hasn’t taken a lot of digging to find statements made when these people had a different allegiance which call into question the truth of their supposed conversion.

Conversion, though, is just the right word.

And this service to a higher power is often experienced by others as a betrayal.

Christianity knows a lot about defection.

Right at the heart of the Jesus story is a moment of betrayal.

Judas turns Jesus over to be crucified.

The price to betray the saviour of the world? A few silver coins.

But in Christianity, defection is not always a bad thing.

If defection is a dirty word, repentance and conversion are a positive counterpart.

Saying Jesus is Lord in a world where Caesar is Lord is an act of subversion.

It is a recognition that the authority of Caesar, of any government, has its limits.

Christians are called to serve and love their communities and nations – but they only ever have a provisional allegiance to any earthly power or government.

And this makes Christians untrustworthy.

On a deep level, to be a Christian is to have defected from an allegiance to a world which values power and money to service of the God of love.

And this service to a higher power is often experienced by others as a betrayal.

It is little surprise then that from time to time, governments across the world have treated Christians with that same whiff of suspicion reserved for defectors.

But in the United Kingdom, religious freedoms afford believers with the same luxuries afforded to MPs. They can defect publicly – they can tell their stories. They can encourage others to cross the floor.

Can a bird change its feathers, or a leopard change its spots?

The Christian story says yes.

As the election campaign draws on and as people defect from one party or another and as people ask those questions of defectors

Perhaps it is time to focus less on others, and instead ask those questions of yourself.

Are you genuine?

Who do you really work for?

What do you get out of it?

Have you truly renounced your old ways?

Defection can be a good thing.

Will you tell your story?