Blog #22 – When the Week Gets Heavy

Some weeks just move along without much to say about them. Others feel heavier, like they have been carrying extra weight before they even begin. This one has felt like that, not dramatic, just gradually harder to keep up with. It started out fairly normal, but by the end of the week it had begun to catch up with me, and everything else seemed to follow suit.

It has been a typical mix of work and life on paper. A week of paramedic shifts with EMAS, a day of teaching ILS resuscitation training, and the usual family rhythm that keeps everything moving. But mentally, it has been a bit of a delicate one. There are reasons for that, and they can stay where they are. What matters more is what helps when things start to feel that way, the bits that keep you steady even when your head is not.

Taken a few weeks ago whilst 'hobbying'.

In mental health, we often talk about something called protective factors. It is a term used in UK mental health work to describe the personal and social supports that make someone more resilient to stress, depression, or burnout. They do not erase the challenges or make everything fine again, but they act like shock absorbers for the rougher parts of life. They are the reasons some people manage to keep balance during hard times, not because the pressure disappears, but because certain parts of their life quietly hold them up.

Protective factors can be things like strong relationships, hobbies that give you purpose, steady routines, physical activity, time outdoors, or just knowing when to rest. In the NHS and wider wellbeing frameworks, they are seen as the building blocks of resilience, not emergency fixes but habits and connections that stop the bad days from tipping too far. (Learn more about protective factors and resilience on the NHS Every Mind Matters site.)

Photography is up there for me, but not the only one. It gives me a reason to slow down and notice things, and that is often enough. It does not fix anything, but it is grounding.

Last weekend at Cattows Farm was a good reminder of that. They were running their Halloween Farm event and it turned into the perfect excuse to do some event photography, the kind with changing lights, busy crowds, and live music. I have always enjoyed that kind of work because it forces you to adapt. You are reacting to the moment, constantly adjusting, never in full control. It is not the quiet, deliberate kind of photography I usually lean toward, but it is rewarding in a different way. I came home with a full card and the sense that I had properly stretched myself again.

The following week was mostly work. Paramedic shifts came and went, some running smoother than others, and Thursday seemed to vanish without much to show for it. It was one of those days where time slipped away and I could not really explain where it went. I have stopped beating myself up over that sort of thing. Sometimes those slower days are a sign that your body is asking for a pause, even if your head has not caught up.

Drone photo from our recent Wales trip.

Friday brought a welcome change of pace. I spent the day delivering an ILS resuscitation course, and the group was brilliant, full of laughter, energy, and enthusiasm. There is something about teaching that always resets me. It is tiring, yes, but in the right way. You leave the classroom drained but uplifted, reminded that people do want to learn, to be better, to help others. That energy is contagious.

Halloween itself fell on Friday night, and with a four-year-old in the house, it went exactly as you would expect: costume decisions, excitement, and a mild sugar overload. Nothing carved this year, but plenty of fun and noise.

By Saturday the weight of the week had started to lift. We had a family day planned, and Bow had her first ever cross-country race in the morning. She came eighth, which was brilliant, and seeing her at the finish line, proud of herself, made the whole week feel lighter. Afterwards, we went for a walk around Foxton Locks. I only took one camera and one lens, partly as an experiment and partly to keep things simple. No pressure, no plan, just an hour of slow steps and casual photos.

The farm photos are already up online, but the ones from Foxton will make an appearance at some point. They are not dramatic, but they are calm, and that feels right for now.

Dinosaur attack at the Cattows Farm event.

Still, the end of the week brought something heavier. Without going into detail, a few unsavoury business decisions left me feeling particularly low. On Friday, I saw a friend who was directly affected by what had happened. When she saw me, she just looked at me and said, “Are you alright?” I simply replied, “No.” She hugged me, and that meant a lot. She would have had every reason to be angry, but in that moment she chose empathy instead. Sometimes that is all you need to start finding your footing again.

Days like that make me think more about what these protective factors really mean. They are not about pretending things are fine. They are about having enough threads of support, kindness, and connection to stop you from unravelling completely. Whether it is a friend, a walk, a quiet photograph, or time spent doing something useful, those things give shape to the recovery that follows.

I think we forget that too easily. We treat recovery or wellbeing as a thing you do after you break, when really it is built in the quiet habits you maintain when you are okay. The more you build those small anchors, family, creativity, connection, the more they are there when the week gets heavy.

Looking back, it has been a week of contrast. Busy work, quiet reflection, and a few small reminders that balance does not come from perfection, it comes from presence. The farm event, the laughter in the classroom, the hug at the end of the week, the walk at Foxton. None of it solved anything, but it helped. And that is the point.

Another 'hobbying' photo.

So if your week has felt a bit heavy too, maybe think about what holds you together when things start to fray. The protective factors might not be dramatic or even visible, but they are there. They are the reason the weight feels manageable rather than impossible.

Because when the week gets heavy, it is not about pretending it is not. It is about remembering what is holding you up.