"Sit up straight or you'll get round shouldered," said dad repeatedly throughout my teens. Another one of those boring things parents say. A bit like "You use this house as a hotel.". I didn't really know what round shoulders looked like. What effect they would have on my appearance and health. So after an instant of reflexively obeying dad's order, I'd slump back into my bored "up yours" teen slouch.
The first time I experienced pain from my poor posture was in in my mid 30s. The morning after a wine-fuelled and unsuccessful attempt to learn Ciroc from my friend Nick, I woke up in such severe pain that it took me 20 minutes to get out of bed. The impact of poor posture on my appearance I didn't notice until a couple of years ago when someone videoed me doing a reading at my cousin Lewis's wedding. Afterwards, when I saw myself bent anxiously over that piece of paper, I finally understood what rounded shoulders were. I'd turned into a human cashew nut.
"Why me?", I used to think as I suffered bout after agonising bout of back pain and tried remedy after costly remedy. On the surface of it, you could put it down to ergonomics. When the Ciroc incident occurred, I had 30 years worth of days (if you count school) of sitting at a desk under my belt. Too much sitting is never good. But it was the way I was sitting that was the key. I frequently found my shoulders around my ears because I was stressing about being "not good enough". And at Lewis and Sheena's wedding, this pose was exaggerated because I was both anxious to get the reading right and emotional (in a happy way!).
After mum (aged 84) had her heart valve replacement operation, I accompanied her on her daily physio-prescribed walks. I was shocked to see that she had apparently become an old woman overnight. In fact, famously, she was back on the tennis court 16 weeks later, but at the time she looked hunched and elderly. It was nothing to do with sudden ageing. It was worry over protecting her wound (a cut right down her breastbone). Anxiety had turned her into a human cashew.
Right now we're living in the ideal conditions for propagating a whole society of human cashews. There are two reasons for this...
1. We are doing far too much sitting. "STAY HOME", we are told at every turn. So we spend hours hunched over our phones and laptops, gaming, trawling social media, having get-togethers on Zoom. And when we're not doing that, we're watching TV news bulletins and box sets. Many people's homes are not set up for working at home. So they are sitting in awkward positions at ergonomically unsuitable dining tables and breakfast bars.
2. We are anxious. About catching Covid-19. About there not being enough ventilators. About our loved ones who we can't see face-to-face. About being cooped up in a very small space. About being alone. About spending time with a partner we find we don't really like much. About the kids yelling in the background when we're on a conference call. Even with running, if I'm anxious, I can feel my human cashew taking over - neck tense, shoulders raised, head pushed forwards, straining to get to the end.
I've found that there are some things that can mitigate this effect. I've started doing yoga - a 30 day course on YouTube by an excellent instructor called Adriane. Great for aligning your body and relaxing your mind. I use a foam roller (for those who haven't used one, this may sound soft and cuddly but it's an instrument of torture). One exercise (demonstrated here by Matt who coined the phrase "human cashew") I find especially helpful. It resembles being crucified. But it works. You can get a foam roller on Amazon (if you can get a delivery slot). I try to get up from my desk regularly and stretch. I'm not that good at this (I've just realised I've been sat here for three hours without moving).
I know that my posture has changed for the better since that wedding video of two years ago. And I know that it is because I'm less anxious. If you've read my previous blogs you'll know that I've thrown out quite a lot of fears and insecurities that I didn't even know I had in my counselling sessions with Julia. That doesn't mean I'm not anxious now. But having a professional to talk to about it means I'm a lot less anxious than I would have been. And I look a lot less like a human cashew nut.