I am sorry I haven't blogged for a while. I have been through a tough patch. Anxiety through the roof and quite unable to 'see the wood for the trees'; 9/10 on the W-G Anxiety Scale. Nothing for it but to retreat to bed. One of my 'benchmarks' for how ill I am is to see if I can actually sit through Diagnosis Murder and enjoy the storyline. If I can I know I am ill. Dick Van Dyke is such an amiable actor it is a shame the production values for this show are so excrutiatingly naff. Great for depression and anxiety though.
I fell ill - or lost my fotting on the treadmill of life on Saturday night. I realised symptoms had returned very suddenly and with incredible intensity. I physically hurt. The timing was, as these things always are, impeccable. Our son was home for a short holiday from school and I had coped for barely twenty four hours before I was feeling wrung out and distraught. I was extremely angry with myself - which is just about the most counter-productive place I could choose to be. I had hoped I would be well enough to spend time doing things with our son.
In reality that was probably my motherly Waltons fantasy rather than reality. Our son is passionate about his games and peripherals - when he is at home - his eyes lock like lasers on familiar games and apart from eating, drinking and sleeping - that is pretty much all he seems to want right now. I had been bracing myself for a trip over to Ullapool; another to the cinema; a third into town - and it quickly became apparent this wasn't appropriate or what was needed by our son. Somewhere between realising we were going to be home for almost all the holiday watching him play games and my huge, overbearing expectations of myself and our son - my stitching came undone again and the stuffing popped ouy. Bother.
I have spent the last five days in bed - literally. My level of aggitation was high over the weekend and I could feel myself slipping into believing that the whole process wasn't worth it. At moments like this the critical voices in my head become very strong and goad me arguing that I have no quality of life and am a thorough nuisance to everyone. Fortunately these days the thoughts last hours rather than days but I am left feeling wasted and ill at ease in my skin for a while until some sense of genuine perspective is restored.
My sense of purpose returned as suddenly as it departed yesterday evening. I was watching something uninteresting on TV and as my mind wandered I caught myself day-dreaming a different sort of way of organising the space we have here. At the moment I paint in our sitting room; I was imagining a studio and gallery space. It wasn't about making such a thing a reality - so much as delighting in the fact that my head was full of future possibility and not simply inert with anxiety and pain. I knew I had turned the corner.
I didn't hurry to get up this morning because these next few days are almost bound to be a little shakey. I guess I now have a sense of what it might feel like for a person with bi-polar or an alcoholic who is coming to after a serious bender. It's starngely thrilling to still be here and in one piece.
I am not analysing why this incident happened yet - that forensic stuff can wait until I feel stronger - for now it is simply being up, about and smelling the roses that counts. Actually it is enjoying a fantastic display of daffodils just now in the front garden.
Talking of which did any of you see Poppy Shakespeare on Sunday night? I know I was pretty ill, but I was terribly disappointed with the drama. Set in a psychiatric day centre it tried to cover the concerns around for people living with mental health issues and the political changes that are around to the services provided for them. It was about as subtle as a brick through a window. The portryals of mental health professionals and their clients were excruciating sterotypical. Attempts at humour were at the expense of reality. Diasppointing. Such a gorgeous title. So not Channel 4.
Kim MacMillen:
When I loved myself enough I stopped blaming myself for choices I had made - which made me feel safe and I took responsibility for them
Hang on in there, these things take time and as you have so rightly said you have learnt to handle this and come out the other side quicker yet in a progessively gentler manner and this can only be good. I know I sound like a cracked record! But be gentle with yourself. You are You and loved as that person.Gwen.
Posted by: gwen | 04/04/2008 at 07:07 PM