It has been too long since my last post and I apologise for the pause. It has been a difficult time with my moods low and anxiety high. My mind, of course, has been working overtime both day and night, but I am hoping that this—another chapter—is finally coming to an end. There have been many times when I should have put pen to paper, so to speak, but sadly have not managed to do so. The same goes for getting out with my camera: a no-go, and something that really irks me.
So, here we are, chewing the cud and thinking about the past few weeks and what to make of it all. Some may say that I shouldn’t analyse things too much, but I feel that sometimes it is necessary in order to learn for next time, if at all possible. I have known for some time now just how quickly I can go from feeling good to not so great. It can literally happen in seconds. This time was no exception: sitting at my computer, clicking a few keys, and then wham. I could almost feel it physically. A strange feeling—a light being switched off and those thoughts of doom and dread descending upon me. Horrible.
For me, I kind of go into survival mode and cocoon myself within my safe place, which is my house. The idea of going out is avoided and I try desperately to find myself a bucket of sand to stick my head in. This works for a while—a good while, actually—but this time I ended up seeking the help of my local mental health nurse. To be honest, I found this very disappointing, although it was good to talk for a bit. Nothing more came of it really; ideas were discussed and phone numbers and website addresses were given, but nothing really solid. In truth, I wasn’t expecting much; it was more a chance to contact someone in a professional sense and explain that I was struggling a bit.
A couple of years ago I had a counsellor who was, quite literally, the best. I have had a few, especially over the last fourteen years or so, but she was something really special, and when our time was finished, I was genuinely upset. I have tried to reach out to her this time, but she must have moved on, which I kind of expected. I haven’t totally given up hope though, and intend to contact where she worked to see if they are able to pass on a message for me. You never know, and I think she could be, again, an important cog in my quest to get on top of my problems. We genuinely got on well and she seemed to have an understanding of the complexities of dealing with my many nuances. She always had time and knew what to ask and when—I really hope that she would be willing and able to help again.
Certain words have been playing on my mind this time as well. Love, guilt, death are just three, and they usually lead to lengthy, sleepless nights. One leads to another or sometimes takes me down paths that bring up many memories, both happy and sad. Regret is another word my mind has played with, and one which causes me all sorts of problems. For as long as I can remember, I would always say I only had one true regret, but now I am not so sure. It, as are the other words, is a big word. To truly regret something, I think you must have some deep reason for doing so. It is not a word you should just throw out there; I think it is more meaningful than it is often given credit for. These words and the paths they lead me down create feelings and emotions that I need to work on. Sometimes I feel that I am just not ready to let go, and maybe that in itself is part of the problem.
So life trots on. The endless cycle. It tires me massively, but not in the sleep sense of the word. It is something deep within that doesn’t really have a name or description—you just know it’s there and desperate to rest. I wonder if it is your soul? I can feel a ramble coming on, and so I shall leave it at that and wish you well.