Unfortunately these kinds of things tend to happen at night and during the weekend so had to I deal with it- and deal with it I did.
My first action was to put the kettle on, naturally.
After two cups of tea and 5mg of diazepam the fear remained. I needed to break out plan B.
Not long after I met my (wonderful, fantastic, life-saving) CPN she introduced the concept of mindfulness. Being a horribly sceptical, cynical kind of girl I scoffed at her handouts but over time I have become a big fan.
Last night, after tea and diazepam I got out my mindful marbles- about 100 marbles in a plastic mesh bag. My mindful marbles are probably my favourite mindfulness tool (not least because I can have the occasional snigger to myself about losing them). They feel nice, they are all different sizes, I can count them, they make a lovely noise, they are cold but can be warmed up and they look great.
I 'totally get' mindfulness now I see my discovery of it as one of the upsides of becoming mentally ill.
My discovery of mindfulness brings me to something else I’ve discovered on my journey- quite appropriate for a Sunday blog post too.
I am not a religious person, have no belief in a god or gods and trust myself sufficiently to create a moral code of my own that is not dictated by any one dogma. My children are raised in a truly atheist house (though we do celebrate the Christian festivals that include gifts and chocolate) and I take a factual intellectual approach to discussions on religion, usually using them as an opportunity to discuss tolerance and acceptance. Since becoming ill I have realised we also live in a house that sadly has no spiritual dimension.
We are a very matter of fact kind of family- well most of us.
One of our family walks takes us past a Willow tree. I comment on the tree “oh that Willow tree is lovely”, my daughter comments on the tree “it’s a great colour”; my eldest son doesn’t notice the tree as he is in a huff having been dragged out for a walk but my youngest child comments on the tree “that tree is sad”. The tree does look sad, weeping, as Willows do.
Now the tree probably isn’t sad, it looks healthy enough and appears to have everything it needs. My youngest sons observation however jolted me into realising that being spiritual doesn’t have to mean being religious.
I struggle to define spirituality and I’m not really sure that it needs explaining- it is whatever you need it to be. For me it’s a kind of ‘stopping to smell the flowers’ kind of approach. It’s about stopping and thinking about situations, it’s about being grateful for who and what you have and are. It’s about seeing things differently and trusting your own, wise mind to do the right thing.
It’s not about wearing tie-dye, doing yoga or becoming a vegan, it’s about being a whole person.
Looking after your spirit is an essential tool in the pursuit of good mental health. The very fact that no-nonsense, matter-of-fact, considers the Periodic Table and a world map as legitimate works of art me is saying that is testament to how important it is.
So there are upsides to mental illness and my realisation that I need to stop and think a bit more is an upside. The rest of it still sucks though!
So today I am grateful for mindfulness and glad that I haven’t lost my marbles.