Alternative title: When the arse end falls out of your world you sometimes just need to take a bit of time out to regroup, reassess and start again …
While I apologise for falling off the face of the earth without leaving a trail of breadcrumbs (in fairness I would probably have eaten them as I went), I did need the time away to get my shit together and to give my melancholy soul a swift kick up the jacksy. I’m hoping this post will signal my return to LHB HQ but I can’t say for certain as I don’t want to promise a schedule that I then can’t commit to in case I suddenly relapse into a grief breakdown and find myself bawling uncontrollably in a heap in the biscuit aisle at my local Tesco while shoveling custard creams into my mush as a group of old dears shake their heads and tut at my attire (usually a pair of boxers that have seen better days and a thread-bare t-shirt).
I had reached a point where I had managed to stop functioning … Physically and mentally, it was as though all motivation I had to carry on a normal life had just upped and disappeared like a fart in the wind. I had stopped eating (oh yeah, that happened early), sleeping (except for an hour or two as an afternoon nap), drinking (I’m talking water, juice, coffee here! Yep, even tea!), exercising (yoga was the first to go), showering (oh gods I was disgusting!) and, when I finally completely broke, I stopped going to work (my GP signed me off on the advice of a counsellor).
I was existing … Though I use that term rather loosely (I started watching TOWIE marathons ffs! I know the shit has royally hit the fan when I start watching reality twoddle on the telly box … Still have no clue what the heck it’s all about).
I had become one with the sofa.
I’m still not entirely sure where the voice of reason came from, it could very well have been prompted by K (my amazing counsellor!), M (my equally amazing other half) or even my mum (who is, quite frankly, the strongest woman I have ever known) … But from the depths of my grey matter something eventually shrieked “oi, asshat, this rather freaky symbiotic relationship you’ve got going on with this leather monstrosity has to stop as I’m pretty sure your arse is becoming an arm rest”.
Couldn’t fault it’s logic really … Our sofa is a leather monstrosity which actually came with our house. The old owners ‘donated’ it (read as : they couldn’t be bothered to shift it when they left). Not just that, but I’m pretty sure the not-so-little voice in my noggin was right about my backside morphing into a part of this disgusting piece of furniture in some weird Frankenstein-esque way.
I started with a shower … Oh. My. Word. I’m not going to frighten you with that description but needless to say, my body was pretty much a biohazard risk! I accepted my GP’s help re: lack of sleep (a couple of nights of sleeping pill induced kip to kick start a routine), I opened up more to my counsellor and actually took on board more of her advice (especially that on self-care), I turned down my Psych Doc’s offer of medication in favour of focusing on my talking therapy (obviously this is a personal decision and unique to everyone with a Mental Health issue – this just seems right for me at the moment), I handed my notice in with my current employer (and I accepted a new job!), I started re-learning a language I first encountered at school, I tempted my body with green tea and crumpets slathered in butter (until it could stomach regular tea and actual meals), I took a step back from the blog and social media, I spent more time with my mum and with friends, I started leaving the house simply to enjoy being outside (we went to Grasmere at the weekend and it was a definite soul booster – also, their gingerbread is just amazeballs!) … And as recently as this week, I got my ass back to Yoga class and conquered an asana which has been a frustrating turd for months – Marichyasana III.
Granted I still have a long way to go and I do still bawl my eyes out at random times … For no other reason other than I just feel overwhelmingly sad. I miss my dad, I will always miss my dad. But he’d be totally pissed at me if I squandered the life he gave me.
This whole experience has allowed me to achieve something I have struggled with in the past, I now take each day as it comes as to even consider the future has seemed such a painful thing to do recently. I don’t like to form too many plans as I don’t know how I’ll be on the day … But I also don’t give myself a hard time about missing social occasions or exercise classes or even work anymore. Without that additional pressure I’m finding that I’m more present and in the moment when I do attend them, they don’t feel like a chore (well, work will always feel like a chore but I’m not taking it home with me now).
Sometimes you have to do what is right for you … Especially when you’re healing.
It’s not selfish, it’s self-care … And it’s the most important thing you can do for yourself.
Bet you’ve all missed my inane whitterings ain’t ya?! Aren’t you glad I bobbed by with an update!
PS – If you (or someone you know) has been (or is being) affected by Cancer, then I can highly recommend Macmillan – they are amazing folks!
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