In and out of darkness

It has got to the point where I can write again. The stomach wrenching anxiety has settled into an exhausted sort of headachy weariness, from which I can face the words that describe what has been happening. So much anxiety. My sister asked me yesterday how do I measure my levels. I suppose there’s a scale of 1 to 10. I’m mostly at around 5 or 6, which is when I am aware there is something beautiful, but I can’t see it. Yesterday morning, I could see that there was a beautiful sunrise, I knew that the delicate gold light rippling through the emerald green of the trees was beautiful, but I couldn’t see it. Anxiety sort of clouds over every thought with a dull grey blanket of engulfing dread. You don’t breathe properly, can’t really talk, can’t cope with complex emails or loud noises… It is just crippling. I have had a few days on and off recently, with small breaks in the darkness where I can eat, smile and breathe properly, till it returns. And while I’m in the grey space, I understand why some people just can’t cope with life. If you were in a constant haze of anxiety or depression how could you even be polite to people, let alone proactively thoughtful and kind? It’s just not possible. When I’m anxious I have zero ability to care about others. I feel bad for wasting peoples time or making errors while I’m in a bad way, but I don’t have love or compassion, just a different flavour of fear and dread.

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I may have mentioned that we watch lovely Helm De Vegas perform three times a week on a Facebook livestream from the corner of his house on the piano. Following a Queen Night, Eagles Night, Boy Band night and a 90s night, among others, a lot of us regular viewers have asked him to do a Pink Floyd Night, which he has said he would love to do, but not sure it would be for everyone. So tonight he got out his guitar and said, ‘This is for all of those who would love a Pink Floyd Night. I know Mr M is one.’

Mr M next to me, waves excitedly at the screen.

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Thank you, Doctor

5.13pm. So grateful. Trembly. God I love the NHS. I phoned at about 2.50. Doctor called back for a phone appointment at 3.30. Explained chest pains and heart palpitations, she said you’d better come in then for a check. Real life appointment at 4.50. ECG was so quick, so brilliant, friendly lovely nurse, talked about the dilemma of what bra to wear for an ECG as she stuck stickers and wires on my chest and ankles.

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Fucking Anxiety: Update

So I tried to go for a walk. Made it as far as the churchyard and sat down. Tried to meditate/plan/visualise but just felt weak and dizzy. Tried to enjoy the warm evening breeze and the cool grass between my fingers, but was too exhausted to sit up anymore. I was also annoyed that all through Lockdown I hadn’t sat in the churchyard. There’s noone there and it’s so lovely. Not when you’re weighed down by a wierd worried sadness though. The walk back was slow and heavy. What has happened to my energy? Just feel totally wiped out.

Back at the flat I tried to write a report, but to provide some happy background noise I YouTubed Eddie Izzard, which led on to a string of comedy clips, so that now, at 11pm, I have the beginnings of a report on winter flowers but I have a brain that’s been pumped with three hours of comedy. And I feel better. Thank you. Instead of the nurturing nourishing advice about positive chakra cleansing, I have Sarah Millican asking me if ‘severed cock was champion was it?’ and ‘bit of a slag are we, pet?’

I’m going to fall asleep to her gorgeous giggly northern tones instead of Paul Mckenna’s soporific sleep CD.

5.50am. I slept through the night! Thank you so much. And I just woke up smiling. Still feel punched in the chest exhausted, but the heavy sadness has gone. Hold on to this please, and maybe add a daily dose of comedy to your wellness routine.

Dr Strange – Open your mind

We’ve been on a Marvel Comic Universe journey during lockdown, and last night we reached Dr Strange. It’s a movie all about harnessing the power of the universe for good (or bad) and mastery of energy for healing. And how a negative incident – his car crash for example – is an opportunity to discover new strengths and skills. The mystic one says to Dr Strange, ‘I know how to reorient the spirit to better heal the body.’ and shows him diagrams of chakras, acupressure and other studies, which he immediately dismisses as giftshop fairy nonsense.

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Day two

What a surprise. It’s not going well. Yesterday I didn’t manage my six Miracle Morning tasks by 10am when I started work. Started off great with fifteen minutes jogging silently on the spot in the patch of early morning sunshine in the kitchen at 6am so as not to wake my love. ‘Meditation’ was alright – half an hour sitting with my eyes closed watching my mind wander all over the place – and then I went a little over budget and spent a whole 73 minutes (instead of 5) working on my affirmations. It’s a colourcoded scribbly few pages trying to whittle down the entire purpose of my life into a few neat little soundbites. It will take a while.

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30 days

I have spent the whole day reading The Miracle Morning book – interspersed with yoga, snacks and a National Theatre Live screening – and I am so happy about starting my 30 days tomorrow, for the rest of May why not. There’s a Miracle Morning facebook group full of people sharing their Miracle journeys and I am their newest excited member.

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