PEACE

1: a state of tranquility or quiet
2: freedom from disquieting or oppressive thoughts or emotions
3: harmony in personal relations
4: in a state of concord or tranquility

Is that how peace feels for you? It sounds pretty good huh?!

It is something I’ve rarely experienced for some time. I’ve been afraid to feel peaceful, for fear the next hammer blow will fall. When you live in constant fear of things going wrong, you don’t feel any peace. But today – today I did feel peaceful. Climbing a beautiful cape and looking at the stunning views and hanging with a good friend and eating good food and just generally enjoying life. Which is rare – but awesome as well. Rare, not because there isn’t a lot to enjoy in my life – there most certainly is – but because in recent years it’s been too hard to relax enough to let peace flood in.

It’s a tricky thing, peace.

In order to have a sense of peace you have to be in a good head space. In order to have a good head space, you have to have a sense of peace. Catch 22.  But with time – time heals all wounds. Apparently. I read that somewhere.

While I have had some stressful days recently – a whole stressful week in fact – I feel like I bounce back a lot quicker than I did in previous months – years. Stress is normal. Shit is normal. Dealing with normal stressful shit is not my strength – it is indeed my nemesis and has been my downfall. But I’m learning. See – old dogs can learn new tricks. Woof 🙂

I have to confess I am enjoying this peace business. It’s pretty good. I know it isn’t something  to expect to feel day in and day out – I’m not completely silly. But knowing there are moments of peace that may be attainable in the days to come is a little peace-inspiring in and of itself.

Having a peaceful spirit is terribly healing. The turmoil subsides, perspective is gained, hope is possible. As a teacher I know success breeds success, but I also believe hope breeds and hope, and peace breeds peace. The more we  experience positives in life, the more positive life becomes. It is often all too easy to see the things that go wrong, with their neon flashing signs saying, Look at me! Look at me!

Whereas quiet peaceful times just gently fade in and never shout out at all.

I also wonder if finding peace is a lot about doing things you love. I love being in the bush. I love being by the sea. I love hiking, and nature, and being with friends. I love cheese and gin and daylight savings. And I love that I love all these things.

I also know tomorrow I’ll return to my real life where my house has no skirting boards and the cat tears all his fur out. The dishes will need doing and I won’t bother cooking. It’s okay though, because I’m grateful I have a house and a cat. I have dishes and I choose not to cook – these trivialities do not shatter my peace. It is fear that shatters my peace. Fear – anxiety – whatever you wish to call it. Fear that bad things will happen. Anxiety I’m not good enough and I’m going to make a million mistakes and everyone will know and deem me inadequate. Fear and anxiety and inadequacy are incompatible with peace.

What I am incredibly grateful for, is the reprieve. It is cathartic and offers hope. And with hope, all things are possible.

WHOOPS!

I ran out of medication last week. Turns out this was a bit of an oversight on my behalf, and not the most fun way to spend my week.
I don’t mean I ran out of vitamin tablets either (although I ran out of them too), but rather I had to trudge through the week without my anti-depressant. Which also doubles as an anti-anxiety and is one really useful pharmaceutical aid.

Before anyone else wants to have a go at me for being so stupid as to run out of tablets (trust me – I was the first in a long line of people to hone in on my idiocy), can I just say – in my own defence – I knew I needed to fill the script, so on Monday I trotted down to the nice friendly pharmacy where all my scripts are kept on file, only to discover it was out of date. Now that was not something I had anticipated. I couldn’t get in to see my doctor until Friday afternoon, so girded my ample loins for the rough week ahead. And by jove, it was a really rough week. I needed much bigger loins.

Here’s a list of normal withdrawal side effects which start somewhere between 24-36 hours after the missed dose

• Anxiety • Brain zaps • Chills • Concentration problems • Confusion • Crying spells • Depression • Depersonalization • Dizziness • Fatigue • Flu-like symptoms • Headaches • Hopelessness • Insomnia • Irritability • Mood swings • Nausea • Panic attacks • Sensitivity • Sleep changes • Suicidal thinking • Sweating • Tingling • Vomiting

Does that sound like fun? Because if it does, I have some great ideas on how to suffer accordingly. By Wednesday afternoon I had most symptoms and by Friday the only box I hadn’t ticked was Vomiting.

My anxiety levels skyrocketed really quickly. At work I became so anxious about making mistakes, I had a full panic attack before I even had the opportunity to make a mistake. Luckily there’s a costume cupboard at work, so I hid in the racks of tulle and onesies and Alice in Wonderland frocks, working on slowing my breathing down (I also secretly hoped to discover Narnia at the back of the wardrobe). Once calm I returned to my desk and then I did make mistakes, and from there the week just got worse. I sobbed my way through most of the days. Sometimes I knew what I was crying about. Sometimes I had no idea.

Mood swings and a sense of hopelessness, coupled with extreme irritability, made me want to never talk to my husband again. Every time he looked sideways I’d swear he was doing it wrong. Normal parental worries left my world caving in so I denounced myself for being such a dreadful parent. Every day I visualised my family having catastrophic accidents and morbid deaths with great clarity. I came to the conclusion all my friends hate me because I’m such a dreadful person. And of course, the random lump in my arm had to be cancer (turns out it’s a hematoma – google was wrong).

I think I can sum up last week as: Perspective-Gone-Awry.

The one thing that got me through was my determination to keep repeating my age-old phrase, This too shall pass. This too shall pass. Followed by lots of reminders that one should never make permanent decisions based on temporary feelings. A very important rule I have usually managed to abide by.

Now for some time, part of me has wanted to go off the anti-depressants altogether, but missing those four doses (yes – just four!) made me realise a few things.

1. I need to be in a really good head space before even contemplating going off them.
2. Timing is everything – life needs to be calm and cruisey before I whiz up my own self-inflicted emotional storm. I should ideally be on holiday in fact – on a tropical beach. With a cocktail and a good book.
3. Going cold turkey is a dumb idea – consult my doctor when the time comes to ease off.
4. It’s very important lots of people know what’s happening as I’ll get super irrational and emotional, and will have even less care for my own safety than usual.
5. If I never go off the medication at all, that is also okay.

I have now had two doses and aside from still feeling really fatigued (I think I’ve reached the point where fatigue is just normal in my life… I just ignore it now), I’m feeling much more stable.

I’m no longer staring at cliffs with a great deal of longing.

There was one more lesson I learned from this week… When you’re feeling teary and weepy and despairing – when it feels like you’ll never be happy again and what’s the point of life and just fuck it, who cares – that is not the best time to book flights for a holiday you’ve been planning for five years.

The up side to this down week, is my husband and I will be flying to London in comfort next year. And my very lucky husband (who pissed me off every time he breathed last week) is flying back from Paris in first class – using ALL our frequent flyer points… I don’t have a return ticket yet (I’m meeting friends after he leaves and will fly home with them). But I suspect I’ll be flying economy on the cheapest airline with the worst layovers. Unless of course I run out of anti-depressants again. In which case I’ll stick a one-way first class ticket on the credit card and just be done with it.

I WANNA BE THIS DOG

Wanna know what my anxiety looks like?

I had an unpleasant moment at work today, then later realised I’d spent the entire day on edge as a result of that one moment. For the whole day, I was slightly teary, heart-pounding, wanting to punish or numb myself, and counting the minutes until I could get out of there. I felt frozen to the spot and terrified of opening my mouth – just hoping the earth would swallow me whole. This is a scenario I am all too familiar with.

If my anxiety levels are peaked – for whatever reason – little blips hit me hard. Today wasn’t a big deal – it really wasn’t. Most people would just call it a perfectly normal day – and on many occasions I would too – but when anxiety has come to roost in my hen house, things are different.

I don’t blow the issue out of proportion – I just feel like I’ve been felled by an emotional hammer, but instead of just getting up, looking around and realising everything is perfectly fine, I get up, look around, and wait in readiness for the next blow. Constantly waiting for another blow – like a cowering dog.

That’s how I felt all day – like a cowering dog.

That’s what anxiety does. It sucks.

Next week I could have the exact same day and I’ll come home and realise what a great day I had. But right now it isn’t next week so I’m ruminating on why I was so upset over nothing. And me being upset over nothing is upsetting in and of itself – because nobody likes a wuss (so I’ve been told). And I certainly don’t want to live in a world where people need to walk on eggshells around me for fearing of upsetting my delicate nature. I would hate that.

I want to be “normal” – whatever that means… I want to be able to challenge panic, distress, fear, obsession, and a cowering dog demeanour, with common sense and perspective. My enormous bag of tricks and tools and really great ways of dealing with stuff, is of no fricking use to me if I just keep collecting things and throwing them in the bag. Every now and then I need to fish a tool out and actually use it.

So I’m mentally going through my list of tools and wondering what I could have done differently today.

Although before I catalogue everything I’ve ever learned – just for your reading pleasure – let me say I did actually make a conscious decision not to let things blow even more out of proportion today. My immediate reaction was to self-harm – I didn’t. I didn’t even contemplate it for very long. My next reaction was to binge and purge. I purchased food for lunch I had not planned on eating, and I didn’t keep it down (if we’re being brutally honest here). However I didn’t binge – at all. So that’s a bonus – right?! Then I wanted to run away and hide and never speak to anybody for the rest of my life (I am the first to admit I am prone to moments of over-dramatisation).

I didn’t do that either.

Anyway – given the set of circumstances for today, in lieu of a desire for self-flagellation, I could have tried the awfully simple, “I’m having the thought that…”, followed by, “I notice I’m having the thought that…” which sounds so incredibly simple – because it is. But it does actually distance some of the fear and emotion from the thought processes.

I could also have done some of the grounding exercises I learned through ACT and DBT – using the five senses (what can I feel, hear, see, touch, taste). Another simple technique that again puts distance between the overwhelming emotion.

I’ve forked out a ton of money, time and energy learning all these things – wouldn’t it be lovely to apply the tools I’ve learned? The trouble with these tools though, is it’s very difficult to think of them when you’re in the midst of emotional turmoil – regardless of whether the turmoil is warranted. I’m also not entirely sure, how to practice the skills without emotional turmoil. Another problem to be solved – I’m sure I’ll think of something.

In the meantime, see that puppy? I want to be that puppy. Not a cowering, whimpering dog, afraid of it’s own shadow. I just want to feel relaxed and comfortable in life. And more importantly – loved and cared for and supported. I want somebody to stroke my fluffy ears and take me for a walk. And I want to know that no matter what, everything will be okay, and I can handle all the little bits of shit that life throws out. Because you know what? I can.

DISCOMFORT

I must be do something right. I’m feeling very uncomfortable. And I’ve been reassured again and again, that change is uncomfortable, so I guess this is change. Whether it’s short or long term change, is yet to be determined. In the meantime – I’m feeling very uncomfortable.

I haven’t been writing about my eating disorder struggles much of late. I’m trying to distance myself a little from the “normality” of having an ED. But then on the downside to that, not writing has left me obsessing more.

I recently made a commitment for more changes, so I’m working towards those at the moment. The biggest commitment, is eating regularly. Not a new decision – I’ve been doing this on and off for a while. But the more I eat regularly, the more I hate it, and the harder it becomes. Naturally, the more I eat regularly, the more my weight escalates as well. I am repeatedly reassured that over time I’ll stop wanting to binge and then my weight will definitely stabilise.

This I am promised.

So I’m trying to be positive, have a little faith and trust in my team, and I’m (reluctantly) eating regularly. A little alarm goes off on my phone every three hours and I consume something. Initially eating was accompanied by lots of purging (no surprises there) but today and yesterday I made a terribly concerted effort to not purge. So I’ve eaten five times each day and kept it all down.
I hate every minute of it.

The past week was emotionally difficult for a variety of reasons, and over the weekend I had a return of major fatigue, spending most of the weekend sleeping. I still feel really fatigued. I’m sure it will go – it usually does – but fatigue makes it hard to eat well. I think we all crave sugars and carbs and all things bad when we’re tired.

Anyway – my point is I’ve also had an escalation in anxiety and depression and that’s all tied into forcing myself to eat food and keep it down.

Can I just reiterate, I hate every minute of it.

With all the upheavals I also had my first slip in a long, long time with self-harm – it was the only way I could think of (at the time) to manage the anxiety of keeping food down. I know – in hindsight – that there are far more effective ways to deal with the anxiety. Old habits die hard. And naturally with the return of all the other nasties, has come a major increase in suicidal ideation. I am really safe – I absolutely promise! – but ideation is more about a desire than an intent. I have no intent.

My goal for now is to keep ploughing through the discomforts. I’ve been here before – eating regularly and doing the “right” things – before it all feels too distressing and I slip. Catch 22 – ’round and ’round we go.

I’m not sure how long I need to keep pushing at this – eating regularly and keeping the damn food down – but I’m sick to death of stopping and starting endlessly, so I’m going to really push ahead for a time. Part of me is putting caveats in there: “If I can’t fit into those pants I’ll stop. If I eat regularly I have to eat sparingly. Make rules, rules, rules. Exercise more to make up for the food intake. Drink more water. If I can’t fit into my pants…”

Endless caveats and signs that it’s time to “go back”.

Unless you’ve had an eating disorder (or other significant addiction) I imagine it’s very difficult to comprehend how much safety there is in the insanity. It feels safe. It feels controlled. It feels like home. It’s not easy to change – if it were easy, we would all make changes. It’s not just hard either – it’s foreign. Unfamiliar. Horrifying. There’s not many positives to be found and experienced in the early days of recovery. All the benefits are in “the future”. Wherever, whatever, whenever that is. So putting myself through major levels of anxiety and depression and unfamiliarity and fear and self-loathing for the sake of a possibly improved future that I don’t even want, is not an easy or comfortable path.

The fact I’m feeling very uneasy and uncomfortable, is apparently a good sign. Practice makes perfect. Success breeds success. So many little sayings – none of which make it any easier. I wonder how long this phase lasts? This too shall pass – like a kidney stone.

SHAME, SHAME, SHAME

Apparently I’m a shame magnet. Not sure if I struggle with shame because I’m super sensitive to humiliation, or if I’m super sensitive to humiliation because I struggle with shame.

I am quite sure that absolutely nobody is comfortable with public humiliation.

Are they? Anyone comfortable with humiliation must have a problem – in my expert opinion… So if I can just assume normal people don’t like being humiliated, why do normal people want to humiliate me?! I can only assume they are oblivious to the effect their words and actions have on the recipient of their ire.

I grew up with a mother that for reasons known only to herself, always felt it necessary to publicly criticise. Then I married a man who has many fine qualities, but didn’t hesitate to let me know every mistake I made in no uncertain terms, regardless of who might be listening (he doesn’t do it anymore – otherwise we would no longer be married). In the workplace I’ve had shreds torn off me in front of all and sundry more times than I care to count. And now apparently, people I barely know – and who know nothing about me – feel it appropriate to publicly air all their grievances with me.

Why? I would never do that to anybody else.

I find humiliation to be a very poor teaching tool. Sure – it makes the lesson memorable, but it doesn’t necessarily teach the intended lesson. Each time I’m humiliated, I take it harder than the last. You’d think I’d become more inured to it, but I don’t. It’s kind of like having a big bruise on your shin. It hurts when you bump it. And then each time it gets bumped, it actually feels worse – the bruise gets bigger and spreads more and tiny little bumps can become more painful than the original cause of the bruise. So it is with humiliation – for me. I don’t become more resilient with more shaming – I become more sensitive and less capable of dealing with it.

So why am I mentioning this now? I’ve had a rough couple of days as a direct result of feeling humiliated. My initial response is intense shame. And I mean really intense shame. I immediately look inwards and try to find all the things that are wrong with me – the running internal dialogue is all about what a dreadful person I am, how I shouldn’t speak up, I need to stay small and get back in my box.

I blame myself for everything – the things I get wrong, and the things other people get wrong.

But what I’m learning (it’s taking decades but I’m getting there!) is I’m not responsible for everything. Sure I make mistakes (and nobody ever lets my mistakes go unnoticed) but not everything is my responsibility.

More importantly, what I’m learning (and I’m getting quite good at this) is silence = shame. Staying silent and saying nothing about things that happen, makes me feel worse. It allows me to ruminate and blow things out of proportion. It doesn’t allow me to work through my ownership in the conflict, and to establish what is someone else’s problem. So I am very pleased to say that while my initial response yesterday was to shut my mouth and never let anybody know about the entire incident, I did eventually talk to a few close friends and to my psychologist. Those discussions are incredibly cathartic and have enabled me to work through the shame and humiliation and I am feeling a thousand per cent better tonight than yesterday.

After the shocker of a morning yesterday, I struggled. A lot. And ended up with a shocker of a migraine which – despite a large quantity of pharmaceutical intervention – continued until this evening.

It will come as no surprise to anyone who knows me, that I also reacted with punishing behaviours, by wanting to self-harm and to stop eating altogether. I’ve been wobbly for 24 hours but I feel back on track. My little alarm will go off every three hours reminding me to eat, and I’m prepared to do just that. Six months ago I could not have bounced back this quickly. Sure – I could have managed my reactions and my stress significantly better yesterday, but this is a long process of growth and change. I can’t undo yesterday, but I can reflect and keep working towards even better responses to the shit that life throws out to all of us.

And you know what else? I will take on board the “get back in your box” message and stop trying to be all things to all people. I’m just setting myself up to fail and I don’t want to do that any more. I want to keep my world fairly small – I love my job, I love my family and friends, I love gym and writing. I’m planning for our big trip next year. I don’t need more than that. It is enough.

No more shame. Please universe… No more shame. It’s not fair. I’ve had enough.

ETERNITY

I’ve been watching a few TED talks lately – because I can 🙂 I watched one by the inimitable Sir Ken Robinson about passion, and a particular quote jumped out and grabbed me.

If you’re doing something you love, an hour feels like five minutes. If you’re doing something that doesn’t resonate with your spirit, five minutes feels like an hour

How true is that? It’s not really rocket science – we all know how painful and tedious it is to sit through something you hate. And the sweetest moments in life most definitely fly by at a rate of knots. But it was a lovely reminder to me that if I don’t figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life, it’s going to go on for an eternity.

The sweetest moments of my life are history. I know that. I accept that. The sweetest moments of everyone’s lives – so far – are also history. What I really need to figure out now, is how to create new moments.

It’s easy to find the temporary joy and excitement of leisure and travel and entertainment. Those things are all lovely, but they don’t define a life. I am not in a financial position to become a lady of leisure, sailing the seven seas and doing as I please. And even if I were? I wouldn’t want to. I have a need to be purposeful and to serve and to care. I do those things because I choose to. I just don’t currently have tremendously exciting purposeful things to do. Don’t get me wrong – I can fill my time. And I do. I have things to do. Lots of things. I don’t do half of them because I don’t make the time, but if they were important enough I’d do it.

My house looks like a derelict wino is in charge of the cleaning.

My great foray into writing ceased the day I finished my online course.

I procrastinate like a pro with my psychological therapy courses.

I’ve even recently been offered the opportunity to do some paid copy editing work and I’m struggling to get excited about it. I will definitely do the work – perhaps I’ll be excited tomorrow.

So my question – completely rhetorical question – is how do I find that one golden ticket, that will lead me to find the thing I love? Not the things I loved – I can’t go back – but new things to love. Not toys and trinkets. Not people and places. But purpose and fulfillment.

I don’t know the answer, but I do know I need to keep looking. To keep doing what I do. To keeping meeting people – those I know, and those I’ve yet to meet. I need to try things old and new.

The recent copy-editing gig I’ve picked up came about through a series of unexpected and unrelated incidents. I’ve been assisting a friend run a women’s retreat, and as part of that retreat we put together gift bags for the participants, and in those gift bags we wanted some handmade chocolates, so I visited my local chocolatier, and while there was asked to assist his Italian friend with a letter, and when I returned to collect the chocolates the chocolatier asked if he could pass his number on to his friend who designs websites, and now his friend is employing me to do copy editing for the websites he designs as English is not his first language. So now I have a copy editing gig because I asked my chocolatier for free chocolates (and jolly good chocolates they are too).

So my point is, by continuing to engage in the opportunities that cross my path, I hope to one day find the very thing that will make time fly. Because if there’s one thing my deepening wrinkles and saggy knees have taught me, it’s that if I stay inward-focused and stop looking for new opportunities, I will have a lot of time, and I won’t enjoy a minute of it. But if I keep on keeping on, picking myself up each time I fall, and accepting every little opportunity that comes my way, then one day, my new sweet moments will start to appear. I don’t want to miss those moments.