Are the voices in my head too loud for you?

Diagnostic Test On-line

I have just completed an on-line Bi-polar Diagnostic test.  They said at the end of the test that if you have ticked a lot of boxes to print the list out and take it to a professional.  I ticked all but three boxes oops.

Up, up and Away!!!!

Last week I was selective mute and spent most of the inside of a week glued to the sofa accompanied by a variety of dogs and cats.  Friday, my CPN was round, and I was trying a new drug regime.  He managed in the space of an hour to do what I had failed to do in the previous days - get me out of bed, running around after the dog - and then outside!  Not running - but delighting in it nevertheless and making a new furry friend.

 

The new medication - an older antipsychotic - turned out giving me an immediate allergic reaction.  Within 12 hours I had sores appearing on the roof of my mouth; was perspiring heavily - and not just the odd power surge; not to mention twitchy with blurred, flashing in my left eye and nausea.  The emergency CPN was great 24 hours into the new drug regime and decided I should stop the new medication and give my system a few days for the drug to clear through.

 

By the following morning, although symptoms were still about my mood had changed dramatically.  I shifted from being in the deepest pit to feeling I was 'free' again and back in touch with the most positive aspects of myself.  Most startling, as always happens on these highs, I lost all anxiety and felt as though I could do absolutely anything - not in any grandiose sense - but confident within my own ability and with insurmountable energy.

 

Until Monday I hadn't been out for weeks - not even to the doctor.  I'd been struggling with the idea of being sociable and petrified of being outside and/or going to the shopping mall or into the city.  I am a reluctant shopper (apart from online) at the best of times - but in recent months this has got beyond an issue of preference - I could not go out.  It was too much like hard work and too full of anxiety.

 

Therefore it was doubly surprising to see myself in the middle of M & S in Inverness charging round like a woman possessed buying presents and foodie bits for the festivities.  What's more I felt entirely present and I was utterly taken up and fascinated by the whole experience.  Looking at all the merchandise was an Aladdin's cave or an extraordinarily rich choice.  I was non-plussed but not defeated!!!  I haven't been shopping since the new rules about carrier bags - so I felt the country bumkin when I had to actually buy plastic - but that lesson has been learnt!

 

Not content with that we went on to Simpson's for lunch.  I resisted the recommended Christmas lunch but tried the Lumpy Bumpy Cake which does demand complete adoration of chocolate - and I am ashamed to admit it defeated me.  Sparklies and a Christmas tree chosen - on to the Post Office to post cards.

 

Weirdly I was still going strong in my head if flagging in my body so ening was spent arranging Christmas cards and searching for the nativity scene - which was seriously elusive.  Eventually after my partner had made several sorties over to the old chapel in the garden to look for it there - I went over and sadly it was there - but not in the cardboard box I remembered.

Found though and ready to be set up.  Didn't even feel guilty about sending my partner back and forth.  Much more interested in arranging the figures.

 

I haven't been in the chapel for well over a year - so it was a strange experience going in there.  I had a powerful experience of belonging and felt as though I was seeing it for the first time,  I was caught for the first time by the art on the wall;  and then about the full implications of deciding to close The Sanctuary for the whole of 2009.  I wished I could guarentee my health and keep it open - but I know in my heart I need this year for me.  This is the time to fulfill my desires not meet other people's.

 

We did decide as we sat in the chapel that we would keep the smaller room as meditation space.  It seemed right and would keep positive vibes in the space.

 

Back to the sitting room and to arranging the nativity scene on the mantlepiece.  Very interesting how my partner rearranged it one I had finished!!!!  I've added a deer, dog and two extra angels with bare bottoms to the scene.  I guess it may offend some people.  It makes me smile - very broadly,  I have no great commitment to the nativity narratives they are one of the least plausible stories in the Gospels - but they are a great metaphor for specialness and difference.

 

More cards and a letter written; e mails and some surfing before I finally went to bed - and slept for an hour or so - and then listened to a lot of the World Service before sleeping more fully at around 7am.

 

Yesterday followed a similar heightened pattern.  Colours, smells and my ebullience all feel hugely enhanced, it's like visiting a foriegn country.  I sat in a cafe yesterday simply realising that I did not know it was possible to feel this happy and at one with myself.  I walked around grinning and wouldn't even be put off by a shop that was so full of gifts etc... that I found it hard to differentiate between what I was actually looking at (beware Brodies if you are visually-impaired).  Lunch out again and also a trip to Logie Steading to raid the bookshop - a must for book lovers - then home to get decorations down from the loft (partner) and sorted (me).

 

Slept about three hours and read.

 

Today - same again except physically I am getting tireder and my brain is fighting my body a bit.  Saw my new dietician this morning and I wasn't nervous at all.  Actually very much looking forward to seeing her.  She gave down to earth advice which I hope I can follow.  I liked her a lot immediately.

 

Talked to CPN and realised just how high I still am.  I am pretty impulsive just now.  When he rang I was on a website and was about to spend £175 - more than I would spend on a normal Wednesday morning!!!!  I can't even say it was Christmas shopping.  He has suggested i give my debit card to my partner.  Fortunately my partner has a poor memory and hasn't remembered!!!

 

This afternoon has been decorating the tree and sorting yet more things out ready for our son's holiday.  In a minute I will start to wrap presents.

 

My body is aching.  My lower back is killing me and my knees - but my head won't even slow down.  I tried watching some of the Royal Variety Show in the hope it might calm me.  I was there - singing along - ending with "I am what I am" at the top of my voice.  Sometimes I think the respite for carer should involve them having a few days at a really comfy B & B away from the cared for.

 

I want to slow down, but at the moment I don't have a choice.  In this heightened state as I get physically tired all I can do is hold onto my board and try and use the high time as purposefully and creatively as possible.  At this height I am aware these feelings may last another hour, another day or the rest of my life - but none of these options concern me or worry me - I am NOW!  It is all that matters.

 

I am more impulsive and risk taking than I would be when well.  I guess this making me vulnerable in that I see the best in everything and therefore become easily hurt in this mode.  I am still aware for example, that I am confused and hurt that a member of our family isn't over his anger and talking to us again, but I also recognise in this mood, I am extraordinarily hopeful that all this will be resolved with real healing and inner movement on all sides.  It doesn't even feel cheesy writing that.  It feels real.  Like looking around and seeing colours looking incredibly vibrant and smelling things as though they are incredibly rich and powerful.  The only downside to that is when Humphrey forgets himself in the house!

 

Enough for now - 2am.

The Answer is Blowing in the Wind

I read the previous blog out loud to my partner before posting it and we talked about how I had realised I was angry and needed to work on the feeling.  When I told him - he said I should write it up - so here goes...

I have never been brilliant about sorting out and naming different levels of anger.  Yesterday was challenging because intially my agitation presented as though I was scared; frightened rather than angry.  Fight or flight was warranted - so I chose flight and avoided the anger by sleeping and staying in bed watching films of a dubious quality on C5. 

As the day progressed and my energy levels were higher I realised I was experiencing anger not fear.  The tell-tale sign for me is that sleep often alleviates fear as when I waken I can usually re-frame fear.  If it's anger I feel just as ill-at-ease with myself on waking as I did before I slept.

I decided to create my own visualisation.  One of my greatest fears is uncontrollable anger.  I have seen it in others and been the victim of it - so I tend to supress anger in myself.  It was time to face this fear.  I was feeling angry - the worst that could happen would be that the anger would get out of control.  I am in a safe place - and surrounded by love - uncontrollable anger is the easiest of all angers to spot in another - so nothing would happen.

I visualised my heart as a huge bellows; the sort used to fan an open fire.  I asked my feelings to fan the anger and see just how hot they could make it.  The gentle waves of air caught and ignited my indignation but to my surprise instead of becoming a huge, surging furnice of unbearable intense heat, it caught into a small fire, contained in a grate.  My anger was no more, in reality than indignation and disappointment, but a part of my emotional self had tried to persuade me I was trying to contain a volcano which is about to erupt.

Kim McMillen:

When I loved myself enough I started feeling all my feelings, not analyzing them - really feeling them.  When I do, something amazing happens.  Try it.  You will see.

Therapy of the Unexpected

Yesterday was not a good day.  I was agitated beyond belief and needed to spend time cocooning.  If there was a sleeping event at the Olympics I would be a gold medal contender.

I had a bad day;  I was annoyed with myself for not handling the cause better.  However it was a timely reminder that once in a while I will experience a day which really can't be re-framed as even a partial success in the moment and I will have to go through time honoured anxiety attacks etc... until I can find the strength to remember how to re-frame rather more rationally and positively! 

I can't say I am worried about this - just hugely thankful that the 'bouncing back' time appears to be getting shorter and shorter.

I have been avoiding going to Art Therapy for weeks.  Each time a Friday session came up I would either be a nervous wreck beforehand and cancel or I would be relieved beyond measure that I had an excuse not to attend!  This isn't like me in the sense that even when I have been very ill I haven't been slow at naming my 'dragons' and even occasionally, having a jolly good go at throttling them.  Therapy has been a life raft throughout.

From the very first moment I met the Art Therapist something wasn't right in me.  It is very important that I emphasize that it wasn't comfortable for me rather than there being anything particularly pervasive about the therapist.  It was my reactions to a perfectly reasonable set of circumstances that caught me out.  I found I was terribly uncomfortable - with the room; with aspects of the therapist; with myself in that position.

The room we were to work in set me on edge.  It felt very personalised and I felt like I was meeting someone in their den rather than in a neutral space where we were both going to be working.  The therapist's own art work was on the wall - and although it was beautiful - I found myself quickly slipping into admiring an artist rather than listening to the therapist and my own inner needs. 

During my first session I was rather overwhelmed by just how much could be packed into such a small space and tried to work out how more than one person could work with her in there without feeling terribly claustrophobic.  I've just caught in my head what some of the 'interference' is about; she reminded me, in the manner she had organised the room of an art teacher I had when I first went to secondary school.  She was an excellent artist too but she guarded her supplies like a lioness her cubs! 

I can remember sitting at the session suddenly concerned that my guide dog would shed hair and leave a mess - and that I would have to ask to use things.  At that time I just wanted to explore and do my own thing and not be in the spotlight in any sense.  Time in a studio away from home should have felt like I'd arrived in a sweet shop with unlimited money - instead I felt oddly confined and scrutinised.  I was already setting boundaries and limitations on myself and we hadn't even started yet!  I had gone into the session hoping I could do quite the opposite over time.

I remember I became deeply disconcerted when the therapist wanted me to name my qualifications and skills.  I hate all that - and always have done.  I am firmly of the rather old fashioned school these days that if you've got it - you have absolutely no need to flaunt it - and if you haven't then it is better to defer to those with more experience and insight.  This approach made me edgy.  I was out of my comfort zone and struggling to work out what possible relevance having qualifications had to landing at out patients in a psychiatric hospital for art therapy.

We then moved on to self-esteem issues.  I brush up good with a touch of pancake (makeup) when I choose to - but most of the time I love the honesty of my face with clear blue eyes and a ruddy complexion (well very rosey cheeks) as it speaks to me of me.  I go pink when I am thrilled and excited and pale green when I am frightened and anxious - I have an easy face to read - and it shows I have lived. 

We had a long converstation about makeup and I was asked to wear some next time I came.  That meant I didn't go back for weeks - until last Friday when I felt well-enough to go without make-up and face the consequences.

The day before yesterday's session felt odd to me.  I am much stronger - so I went prepared with a sketchbook and an idea of what I wished to work on - the front cover of The Sharing Space.  I had this over-whelming sense that I wasn't living up to expectations, again this is almost certainly my projection - but it put me into a slightly vigilant state of mind.  My therapist, in retrospect, was, I think, eager to coax me out of what she may have perceived was my introversion (but is actually my natural predisposition) so she began to talk about her life as a singer; competitions; grades; the Episcopalian Cathedral and a recent debacle there.  I kept my head down and got on with the design, trying to answer such questiosn as I could - but immediately back in professional mode because I cannot be drawn into gossip or hearsay or confirm or deny other clergy's actions.  I didn't rise to what felt like the bait of a good gossip - and I struggled to work out what the point of the session had been.

For most of Friday I was able to see it is as essentially positive in that I had a chance to test out what I was like in a 'carer' role once more - and then I woke in the night - and had a 'hang on a minute' discussion with myself that lasted all the next day.  I was angry (no one's fault but my own - I choose to let people get to me)  I had felt cheated from having an art therapy session because the therapist was seeing me ostensibly as another caring professional - at least that is how I felt I was being cast.  I also felt I was being pumped as a source of inside knowledge about topics and people that interested the therapist - at a time when I could have been a lot more vulnerable than I actually felt - and may well have inadvertently compromised myself along the way if I hadn't stayed very controlled.  Fortunately I worked professionally, whilst resenting I had to I guess.

In reality I learnt a lot from these sessions - particularly Friday's.  My therapist has needs and I felt I was subconsciously being invited to meet them - to provide answers to questions and incidents in her own life that had hurt her and underminded her faith in organised religion.  I am delighted with myself that in the moment I saw what was coming and acted better than appropriately, I remained emotionally detached and let her take her own journey rather than attempt to make it better or become a pint-sized alternative saviour.  I was glad to see I still had the ability.

I learnt that I still haven't found good ways of expelling my own anger and frustration - and so 'lost' a day imploding yesterday in a surprisingly aggitated state.  This was anger not expressed healthily.

So I am stating, in this blog, my right to not just be understanding but to also feel a sense of grievance that my needs did not feel as though they were being met in the therapeutic sessions I attended.  I am angry about this - as I was so looking forward to the sessions and perhaps even finding ways of dissipating my anger through art.  I am proud that I am expressing annoyance - years of care particularly for others who express anger easily and directly has taught me to sublimate these healthy, real and appropriate feelings.  Thank God I can at least write about them!

Ironically out of the session came a possible beginning of a book cover design - so while the left brain was busy the right brain did her thing - or perhaps it's the other way round.

All in all no harm done.  I have discovered I need to work on expelling my anger and I have rehearsed what I need to say to my therapist - and I have something to cogitate on as a book design.  Just a shame I had such a strong nervous reaction to the session.  The mind has extraordinary ways of protecting itself - and mine decided agitation and sleep were the order for yesterday.  I've no sense of slipping back healthwise - just a blip in learning how to be emotionally healthy.

Today is Palm Sunday and as the daughter of a professional magician it took me years to realise that palm had more than one meaning - and didn't always mean to secretly hide something away without the audience seeing - there's a sermon in that!

Kim McMillen:

When I loved myself enough I learnt to meet my own needs and not call it selfish.

When I loved myself enough I quit ignoring or tolerating my pain.

Becoming a Listener Once More

I have just woken up after crashing late in this afternoon.  I went to my first 'proper' art therapy session this afternoon and it was a pretty intense, verbally 'busy' session.  I enjoyed hearing about my therapist's 'other' life as a singer and her views about recent episodes in the life of our Episcopal Cathedral.  It was an interesting challenge to me as I was being talked to and my views sought, I wasn't passive or the subject directly.  I had a chance to explore how well I could remain emotionally detached and avoid moving into an overly empathetic and intuitive response.  I was able to do this which is the great news - but I found I needed to sleep - deep - afterwards.

While I was listening, I started experimenting with a design for the front cover of The Sharing Space.  I suspect it may not be anything like good enough for a professionally produced book cover, but I thought I would give it a bash and submit it anyway.  Apart from anything else it was fun working up my thoughts.  I don't consider myself particularly strong on graphic design - but I am glad I had a go.  I will now have to translate the idea onto canvas; will the fun never end?

Kim McMillen:

When I loved myself enough I gave up the belief that life is hard.

Well Enough

Morning in town buying acrylics and a large folio bag for sketches.  (This is getting serious).  I also checked out the kinds of print compositions which are selling and prices - which vary hugely.

I very much want to get together a set of perhaps six or seven canvases and sketches to take round and show at galleries.

My partner and I met for a leisurely cuppa in Marks and Spencer before descending on Simpsons for lunch.  Then home to the computer.  I began by opening mail and burst out laughing at a wonderful magazine that had been sent over by a friend containing an interview with one of my hearthrobs - Martin Sheen.  I couldn't resist sending an e-mail which assured her both my intellectual needs and lustful thoughts were suitably fulfilled!!!  Such a shame Martin Sheen can't run for President of the USA.  I'd consider emigrating!!

The pre-conference pack is through for the conference in July and I have some super books to read and DVDs to watch - and a Bible study and a paper to prepare.  I feel invigorated and full of ideas.  I know going on a theological conference isn't everybody's idea of a relaxing break but I am effectively a pig in clover at the thought of it.  The reading list looks super and none of the books are on my shelves - so that is a bonus.

I had a smashing conversation with our foster daughter last night who is getting married in a short while.  We talked about her guests and plans - it was such a joy to hear her excitement and all about some of the choices she is making.  I called our son later in the evening and he is as excited as we are at the prospect of the wedding.  It will be a small-ish gathering and he will need a new suit, shoes - the works - so he rather chuffed with this.  I am looking forward to a smashing day - and a chance to get to know our grandson too!

I feel well.  It has come upon me all of a sudden - just as becoming ill seemed to overtake and envelope me.  I am content in myself and looking forward with energy and imagination.  I love living in the moment, it is incredibly liberating and enabling.  I am not 'counting my chickens before they are hatched' but I am not waiting for a catastrophe to happen either.  It is hard to put my finger on what has relatively suddenly made me feel so much better.  There seemed to be a moment when, quite literally overnight, my anxiety diminshed demonstrably and my motivated self woke up from hibernation.  Consciously, it had a lot to do with the realisation that I am now able to achieve what I want out of life - the opportunity is at last there after so many years focused on the care and nurture of others.  Unconsciously - the arrival of Spring; the lightening of grief; the discovery of now; not taking myself seriously in ways that retard rather the encourage my emerging self have all played their role.

Kate McMillen writes:

When I loved myself enough I redefined success and life became simple.  Oh, the pleasure of that.

When I loved myself enough

I began to see I didn't have to chase after life.  If I am quiet and hold still, life comes to me.

Enjoyment and Relaxation

I completed my first painting since my mum's death yesterday and now feel back in my painterly stride, intending to go into town later and spend some gift tokens on some more acrylics. 

I chose to paint a coastal scene, as a 'gift' for my mum and as a way of laying her to rest on her birthday today.  It is a very tranquil and simple painting which reminds me of the meditation read as her commendation in the funeral service - Imagine.  It took just under four hours which surprised me. 

I am so relieved to be back with a brush in my hand.  I feel very much at home and it takes me away from words and into the moment.  Paintings are as much technical operations as they are a combination of design and luck.  I hadn't realised how often I had painted this picture in my imagination - but I clearly had because it literally fell off my brush. 

I've had a similar experience when I'm writing.  Sometimes an idea for a novel, poem or article can be in gestation for several months and then I can sit down, then first and second draft it very swiftly.  Final drafts and tightening the finished product have to be done at a distance...  Popped in a drawer and then examined cold and with an 'acid' eye to excess, indulgence and deviation.  (Thank goodness for blogging).

I've decided to go ahead with the publication of The Sharing Space which is a book about disability and the socio-psychological and theological attitudes towards it.  This will hopefully see the light of day later in the year.  I need to chase the God of Edges book I contributed to as I have heard nothing about that this year. 

I am able to think about academic writing at the moment, but my pressing concern is to finish a novel and that is eluding me still.  Again, I may need to just - start - rather like the painting - but for now it is the painting I want to work with.

I am well on the mend.  Coming up to surface can be as quick as going down and wallowing in the depths.  I've cracked the worst of the symproms and am now easing back into LIFE.  There's still a degree of trial and error in what I can and cannot do - but at least I am able to explore and decide what works for me and what doesn't - rather than reeling from one bout of catastrophising to the next.

I have booked myself on a conference in July which I can't wait to go on - and that feels brilliant too.  It will be ten days away and a chance to really discern my new intellectual and creative 'weight' in collaboration with others.  It's awfully entertaining when you take yourself absolutely seriously...

My brother joined us after his working day yesterday for supper and further stimulating conversation and reminiscing.  It remains an immensely diverse and enjoyable evolving friendship.  He also has a reputation for 'having ideas' apparently, so I'm not the only one!  I am delighted that we seem to have so much in common whilst there are enough differences to reassure me that we won't be tempted to collude with each other! 

I am so looking forward to him coming again, apart from anything else it looks as though we will be setting up a cottage industry archiving the Wallman family history and writing my father's biography!

McMillen, K., When I loved myself enough, 2008 PanMacMillan: USA:

When I loved myself enough I began feeling such a relief.

When I loved myself enough I came to see I am not special but I am unique.

When I Loved Myself Enough

Yesterday lunchtime resembled act one of Waiting for Godot  as I sat, psyched and ready for a visit from my OT and she did not show.  My partner tried to phone but alas, reply was there none.  I was stranded, waiting and wondering if I could see movement in the distance.  "Gogo, is that you?"

I put my readiness to do a session to good work though and went to a local bookshop by myself.  I had an hour or more which I spent browsing, buying and sitting reading - waiting - but this time in a slightly different frame - to picked up by car when my partner had finished shopping.  I bought a couple of novels - one I am devouring at speed because it is a joy - and the latest by the same author - more about those in due course.  A card:

It took a lot of will power, but I finally gave up dieting.

The book that lept off the shelf at me is called When I loved myself enough.  I am not a great fan of self-help books - but as I am thinking of beginning researching one on BPD, I thought, as I was there, it was worth checking out the self-help style that sells these days.  Most of the books were unintentionally depressing because they dwelt so much on feeding the slip stream in most of us that believes we are fundamentally inadequate.  The one I purchased caught my eye because it was rather at odds with the surrounding volumes.  It wasn't about fixing yourself - but accepting youself as you are.  The book is a smashing buy because it is simplicity itself - just one sentence per page - ideal material, properly attributed, for future t-shirt slogans too!!!!

Kim McMillen in When I loved myself enough writes by way of an introduction:

For many years I lived with a guarded heart.  I did not know how to extend love and compassion to myself.  In my fortieth year that began changing.

As I grow to love all I am, life started changing in beautiful and mysterious ways.  My heart softened and I began to see through very different eyes...

...For the past twelve years I have been learning to recognise and accept this gift.  Cultivating love and compassion for myself made it possible.

The first reflection sentence of the book is:

When I loved myself enough I quit settling for too little.

The more I have reflected on this, the more powerful it has become.  I've made some tough decisions recently which did lie heavily on my heart because of the importance of other peoples' feelings and hopes.  It is impossibly hard to explain why on a particular day it is possible to spend time with one person and not another.  It wasn't easy to turn round to long-standing friends and say no to a proposed visit to The Sanctuary and a chance to spend time catching up.  It has been terribly hard to say no to a longer home visit for our son.  Not to mention, no, at the last minute, to friends wanting no more than to share a coffee and have a blether.  And of course, no to my own critical voice and anxiety levels.

Saying no has enabled some fundamental affirmations to be heard.  I am scrutinising my motivations thoroughly and being highly selective in my choices.  The effect is that my confidence and energy levels are flowing pretty well.  I have a sense of worth returning and with that the confidence I have always had at a base level as to my intrinsic value - the perspective which is the first to go when I relapse.

Most importantly I am learning to live the moment.  Yesterday was a delightful example of the mindfulness practice with a morning spent at the computer, having some preliminary discussions with people setting up some appointments which I now feel well enough to keep!  An afternoon in a bookshop - that has to be very close to heaven - and the evening with my brother and my partner.  The lasagne was sensational; kindly provided by a brilliant friend who I know is there caring.  The company was just right; stimulating intellectually and emotionally.  Covering important ground at a level that left much to reflect upon - open and full of possibilities.

It was an evening of feeling fed and feeling able to nurture others - but at no personal cost.  My brother looked through old photos and we listened to tapes of my father performing - and talked - comparing our experiences - past and present.  It is an extraordinary gift to have the opportunity to meet and spend time adult to adult with my brother.  I am very grateful that, all things being equal, we will have time to create a relationship and friendship which is based on who we are rather than the nebulus fact that we share DNA.  Having said that, it was also hugely reassuring to see how many things we value in common - and those were, for the most part, either genetic inheritence or early nurture.  Discuss.

My brother is back this evening - and although I expected to wake up knackered and needing to sleep the day away - instead I am up, blogging, and very much looking forward to seeing him later.  He is a very undemanding guest - and I can't think when we last sat down and talked without the thousands of interuptions of kids, phone, jobs to be done and all.  A very precious opportunity for me.

So, off to paint - but not without one more McMillen gobbit:

When I loved myself enough

I quite trying to banish the critical voices from my head.  Now I say, "Thank you for your views" and they feel heard.  End of discussion.

Although my crticial voices are not so easily satisfied - I will work with the core focus because it is healthy and life-giving.

In the post have come yoghurty raisins and a card from another very special friend.  I have the confidence now to be in relationship - local friends had better start filling their diaries pdq - if they want to avoid a close encounter!!!  Don't say I haven't warned you.

Make Something Happen

A heady mix of anticipation and apprehension greeted me as I woke this morning.  I have an OT session today which I am feeling excited about (my OT has bought a puppy).  I am more than ready to engage with her as I have bounced two sessions with acute anxiety.

I am also anticipating a visit from my brother.  We haven't seen each other since my mum's funeral - so it is difficult to predict how I will feel in the moment.  I can't say I am hugely worried.  If I get faffed, I get faffed.  Families are such complex and intricate organisms at the best of times - so I'll just have to see how I go...  It should be OK as we don't know each other well and my curiosity about my brother at the moment is outweighing my anxiety about just how much of a nutter I suspect he might think I am.

I am genuinely excited about the chance to get to know him.  He left home when I was still young - so there is a great sense of possibility and potential - which is only tempered by the fear that like a toddler at a birthday party - I will overdo it and then repent at leisure.  I hope this will not happen - but I will certainly be tired afterwards - handling other people's emotions alongside my own is taking much more effort than it has done in the past.  This is because I am putting healthier strategies into play - but it is taking time to feel skilled and confident at using them.  At the moment I would describe myself as an enthusiastic amateur actor 'marking' her lines.  It will be a wee while before they are as second nature as sublimating my own needs used to be!

We have finalised the Easter Break for our son and although we 'offered' that he come home for a week it has been decided that a shorter stay would be best.  I think, on balance, although he dislikes the transitions backwards and forwards from school, this is probably very shrewd.  As he is practising his newly developing social skills - so I will be looking at more effective ways of meeting my own needs.  (An assertive mother - woaw!  Feel the G-force.)

I listened to Diane Reeves who was being showcased last night on Radio Five Live's jazz programme.  She has a wonderful voice and I must splash out on her latest album (treat).  They played a track which had a reprise which expressed the sentiment that whatever the day brought I could choose to make it a good day.  I think I will learn this and have it as my signature tune!

Today is the first day I have felt like painting in months - and I may well try later as a way of changing gear.  I am getting pretty good (touch wood) at distracting myself in the early stages of anxiety.  I have resurrected story tapes (a big thank you to an out-of-hours CPN); found my old Gameboy and games; and requisitioned from my mum's possessions a relaxation CD.  I also grab dogs - usually my own.  As I move into a few minutes distraction, I seem able to realise pretty rapidly what is going on and re-frame.  I use my mantras:

Fear is courage waiting to happen.  Go for it.

And:

Use the fear for positive action - make something happen!

They may sound trite or as though they should be an opening line for an Australian soap but they work for me.  I am getting much better at not 'wasting' my energy by feeding my own misplaced negativity.  As a consequence the energy to paint; to enjoy my surroundings; to play with the dogs - is very much alive and well.

So I wonder what I will make happen today... It's rather fun - I feel like a naughty house elf.

Back To The Present

Ok, so it has been a long while since my last blog.  Apologies - but sometimes a girl has got to learn to live reality rather than simply reflect upon it.  With finite energy just now I have to make decisions on how to use time so as not to bruise my emotions.

I've taken a few weeks to live in the moment and it has felt, at times like being pulled through a hedge backwards, and at others as though I am utterly content.  I am getting better - but in doing so I am slowing down on the self-anaylsis and speeding up my appreciation of the moment.  The art of mindfulness.

As a result the necessarily analytical and reflective process of blogging has felt out of place and so I have dropped it until now.  I have more energy to do more - so I feel excited to be blogging once more.  There was a time when it was either walk to the sitting room or write a blog.  Now it's both - making a cup of tea on the way!

Day to day I am feeling much more balanced and actually have periods when I feel well.  This is however within distinct perameters and I am only just regaining the confidence to do things I have always taken for granted.  Just how difficult is it to cook a simple meal?  It is early days, but the motivation is slowly returning which kicks some of my anxiety into touch.

I have made up a joke:

How many people with Borderline Personality Disorder does it take to change a light bulb?

Two.

One to have an anxiety attack about whether or not she has the right to interfer in the bulb's existence and the other to tell the light bulb she is never ever going to be good enough to be recycled.

I am busy gently clearing my mum's study bedroom and settling her estate after her death at the end of November.  So many memories have flooded back.  It has been a good time and there is a certain sense of drawing a line in the sand of life. 

Once her room is reorganised, I intend to redecorate - which I quite enjoy - and then utilise the space as my own 'cave'.  I found a lovely notice to go over a door handle in my mum's things which shows a picture of Pooh sitting and says "Please do not disturb, thinking in progress".  I think my mum would have very much approved of this evolving use of her space - and many of her things.

I had a wonderful treat a day or so after Mothering Sunday when my first ever Mother's Day card arrived from our son.  I was very, very thrilled.  I have put it up on the wall!