It turns out that my little experiment of moving around slowly, writing slowly, breathing slowly, trying to slow down my racing thoughts, worked well as a way to calm myself over the last week. A little too well perhaps; a lot of time was spent napping. To be fair, after the mad mental exhaustion of the previous week, I should have known to expect a bit of a dip. Hell, I must be one of the few people capable of burnout just by having more than one thought in my head. Mind you, I did have to sit up.
To be honest, it’s taken me a few weeks to become comfortable with a regular routine involving more than one activity – filling up the bird feeders and a wander around the garden, a bit of morning meditation and then a couple of hours writing . Even then, the routine only occupies me until lunchtime. After that, if I need to, either because I’m feeling anxious or I just can’t keep my eyes open, I officially allow myself to go with the flow of whatever I can handle; reading, playing a game, watching a film, curling up and taking that nap…But at least in the mornings, imagining that I’m a human going to work, I’ve made sure that I stick to my plan. I might even dare to say I’ve tricked myself into believing it’s boosted my self-esteem.
I don’t think many people would be impressed by my progress. To all intents and purposes I still appear to be just sitting in the same chair, doing not very much of anything. I’m sure Jonny Apron, recently home from working away, would prefer it if I cleaned the kitchen floor. But others might recognise the difficulty I’ve been having adjusting to the change.
For a long time I had no routine in my life at all. Having things to do now, even though they are my own goals and have not been imposed upon me by others, still makes me feel anxious. I know it makes no sense but from the moment I get up my old heart starts banging away in my chest, I find I’m holding my breath and my mind goes blank. I feel like giving up and going back to bed. But I haven’t given up, not yet anyway.
No matter what anyone might say, I am giving myself a gentle little pat on the back for finally putting a bit of order back into my life. For a couple of months or so I’ve been writing something everyday, but it’s only over the last couple of weeks that I’ve been able to do so without leaving my other morning activities by the wayside. That is definitely an achievement for me. I am learning to do what I’ve said I’ll do, even if only to myself. If I can’t do that, no one will ever be able to rely on me, and I will never be of any use. Not in the way I want to be. It takes me a step closer to becoming the person I want to be.
When it comes to my problem leaving the house though, no progress has been made. This is partly because I feel such a sense of urgency (that pesky anxiety causing problems again) to write that I feel guilty if I’m not doing it when I’ve said I would. I’m still not comfortable enough with the routine, or trusting enough of myself to be able to handle too much at once. Going out involves a lot of preparation, takes up too much time, and is fraught with dangers; noises bother me, crowds disorientate me, being looked at worries me, I’m afraid I’ll say or do something stupid.
My list of excuses for not going out reaches to the sky, and it is only going to get more difficult if I don’t get a grip. I know how important human contact is, particularly when people find safety and shared experience amongst others. And even though I’m not exactly breaking down the door to get out there and actually join in with the world, that is the aim. But come on, the weather has been completely miserable, hasn’t it? Here we’ve woken up daily to pouring rain and gusty winds, or else a dreary, dripping suspicious-looking mist. You have to admit, it hasn’t exactly been conducive to getting out there and embracing a tree.
Dear people, if you, or someone you know, is suffering from anxiety, depression or another mental health issue, if you recognise the feelings that I’ve described here, then take heart; things can change, be it ever so slowly. Each gain, no matter how minor it may seem to the outside world, should be a reason for celebration. It take an enormous amount of energy. No one has the right to denigrate your progress, and there is no reason why you should compare yourself to others. Most importantly, don’t be hard on yourself if progress takes longer than you’d like. I’m beginning to realise that my ‘illness’ is an integral part of me, something that I need to learn to work with, not against. One small step…let’s go take it.