THINGS I LEARNED WHEN TRAVELLING
None-the-less, while sitting bored witless at one of the most boring airports gracing this fine earth, I felt inspired to share some hard-earned wisdom.
None-the-less, while sitting bored witless at one of the most boring airports gracing this fine earth, I felt inspired to share some hard-earned wisdom.
I have consulted the technology fairies and the pixie dust has been waived, the credit card swiped, and I’m back in the land of the cyber living. Phew!
I’m also in the land of man flu so nothing of any significance will be gracing my page for a day or two, but I just wanted to say don’t give up on me. There are good things to come this year. Really good things. I can feel it in my waters!
For me – I feel good about 2019. I choose to believe the worst of my grief and issues are behind me and my journey forward is now much closer to everyone else – ie I’m sure I won’t get everything right but I’ll try not to make a royal fuck up every time a little snag comes my way. I’m calling resolutions ‘goals’ this year.
The past two years have shown that no matter the depths I sink to, I claw my way out. And as far as mental health recovery goes, I’m a long way along the path now.
It’s Christmas Eve. All the food preparation is done. The leaves swept up outside. The tree is decorated, santa hats unpacked and cheesy tunes uploaded to my playlist.
In order to successfully publish my memoir next year (hopefully next year) I need to have people to tell about it. So in a desperate and shameless act of self promotion, I’ve created an author page on Facebook and I’d be very chuffed if you liked it.
Until today, I’d never heard the phrase abuse by omission. But now I’ve heard it, I feel like I’ve come home.
If you’d told me three years ago that my poor, long suffering psychologist would still be listening to my woes at the end of 2018, I would have said, No way! (Possibly in much stronger language.) But here we are, 42 months later, and I still grace her couch on a regular basis. And not just for the lols.
Decades of maladaptive coping mechanisms crashed down around my ears, and the words severe depression and chronic anxiety were bandied about – in relation to me. I was in the depths of self-induced starvation, self-harming, highly suicidal, too depressed to function, and suffering the physical misery of high anxiety – pounding heart, shaking hands, internal catastrophising, panic attacks. I’d become one of “those people”.
After spending three years working on mental health improvement, it really is very galling to accept a slip back into insanity Yet […]
Hypervigilance – it’s been around forever, of that I have no doubt. But it’s not a word I ever heard mentioned in all my many years of formal education. For a more thorough definition, have a look here, but whether or not it’s something you personally have experience with, doesn’t negate the fact there are a lot of people out there standing on guard, waiting for the next blow to fall. I’m one of those persons. It’s a bit unfun. For me personally, it’s not related to PTSD – I haven’t been subjected to military combat or sexual assault, and for that I’m very grateful. But for one reason or another my nature and nurture cooked up a little concoction that makes me hypervigilant – all the time. What does that mean? It means I’m always on guard.
It’s 35 days since I touched down on terra firma. Jet lag’s done and dusted, the big adventure receding into once upon a time status, and I’m settled back into normality – taking for granted the luxuries of my pillow, my car, and our pristine drinking water. Yet for most of those 35 days, my mental health has been really shit.
It’s a delusion to think anybody genuinely knows us, and when faced with evidence telling a tale different to the one we believe, the ramifications can be genuinely distressing.
There are moments – hours, days – when I feel overwhelmed with anxiety. Not nervousness. Not stress. Not worry. Not even depression. Just anxiety, with all its accompanying physical misery. Five years ago I didn’t have anxiety at all – so I believed. I certainly didn’t seem to experience the effects of anxiety. In fact I didn’t really experience emotions at all. Which is why, I realise, that girl is never coming back.
It’s the unfun bit of travel – going home. And after three months, it’s the bit to look forward to – going home.