Little boxes

I like to compartmentalise things. I’ve always done it, it makes my life easier to manage if things stay in the boxes they’re supposed to. I can choose to share those boxes with different people – some have access to all of them, some just have access to a single specific box. Some people earn my trust and are allowed to open new boxes along the way. Some people are never allowed in because it’s easier that way.

Apparently my therapist tells me that’s not an entirely healthy way to be. Pfft.

So I’m working on it. I’m working on a lot of things actually. I don’t think I’ve ever been quite this vulnerable before and it’s terrifying. My safety net of closed boxes are having to be opened one by one. Sometimes I find that the thing I was expecting to find in the box isn’t quite as scary as I thought – the thing I thought was a monster is actually just a scared little kitten. Sometimes I want to shut the lid back on the box as hard as possible and never open it again. So obviously they’re the ones I have to open up and deal with. And I don’t like it. Pfft.

But while I don’t like it. While it’s uncomfortable. While it’s hard. While it hurts. While all of those things, it’s working. I’m slowly healing cracks that I didn’t even know needed healing, I’m finding pieces I didn’t know were lost, and all those boxes are starting to come together like parts of a puzzle. I’m not whole yet, and there might always be a missing piece here and there, but I’m a work in progress. And that’s a powerful thing to be.

A tangled spider’s web

Well I’ve been looking for the inspiration to write for a while now, and I think this might just be the not so subtle slap in the face I was looking for!

I started seeing a new therapist a couple of months ago. She’s Irish, and says things like “hmm, interesting, we’ll come back to that”, and I scowl, knowing she’s picked up on the one thing I was hoping she wouldn’t notice. She’s either perceptive or a witch. My money’s on the latter. And I mean that in a complimentary way. But after a few sessions of figuring each other out, we talked about boundaries and whether I have them. Unsurprisingly, I don’t have many. The only boundaries I ever set are the ones that I throw up when I shut down from the world completely. Not entirely healthy either. So we’re working on it, and any part of working on it for me is to put it down in words to try and make sense of the tangled mess that is my head sometimes.

So here we are.

My mood can switch in an instant. On a really good day, I can go from being on top of the world to a pit of despair in about three seconds flat, which you have to admit, is impressive in itself. But all it takes is one intruding thought, one flippant comment from someone, one unpleasant memory, and boom, my mind has flipped 180. And it’s exhausting, both for me and for those around me I expect, never knowing what’s coming next or how long each mood will last. The upside is that just as my emotions can plummet suddenly, they can shoot back up just as quickly, and I’m learning to counteract that one intrusive thought with a positive one or that one unpleasant memory with one of the million more pleasant memories available to me. But it’s hard damn work, and it would be so much easier if my emotions didn’t depend so much on perceived outside influences, and instead were happily independent and able to make their own decisions! Because aged 32, I should not still be upset because I see someone prettier than me, or I don’t hear back from someone I wanted to talk to. But sadly, as of yet, no one seems to have convinced my inner teenage mind, which I swear is still stuck somewhere around 17, that it should have grown up by now.

And here’s where it gets interesting. I had some pretty unpleasant experiences around that age, during my “influential years” as my therapist calls them. And while I’ve grown up in so many ways and am capable of dealing with a lot of what life throws at me these days, it seems there is a part of my brain that got stuck, that never quite left behind my 17 year old self, and consequently is prone to teenage self defence mechanisms that I probably should have long since left behind.

But, on the flip side (because I will always take the wins where I can), I have moments of the absolute assured self image that only a teenager can have. I had a remarkably good sense of who I was at 17 and I’m pleased to say I’ve never lost that, I’ve only come to be more and more confident with it over time. And those moments are awesome. In those moments I can, and do, take on the world. Admittedly, sometimes that translates into impulsive, not so sensible ideas, but I like to think I take 5 out of 6.

And so I have to learn to find the elusive balance somewhere. Crazy highs are only a good thing when they can’t be brought crashing down by one single moment of negativity, or equally carried away by impulsive, irrational decision making. Both of which have a knock on effect in the aftermath, be it crippling self doubt and an absolute loss of motivation for anything or anyone, or the regret of having done something so stupid, and usually irresponsible, that I will probably regret.

Acknowledging it is the first step, that’s what they always say right? So now we just have to figure out how to tame the wild little girl inside my head.

Find your tribe and let them in

I didn’t want to leave this for days, weeks, months on end after my last post. I’m not sure how many words I can find, but I want to give it a go.

I cried. A lot. That’s the first thing to say, and oh god it was such a relief. It was also messy, and scary, and uncomfortable, and happened at about 1am, because of course it did. And you know what set it off? People being nice! I realised that maybe I’d been doing it wrong – watching all the sad puppy videos was never going to work, I needed to watch the happy puppy videos! You guys were the happy puppies, so to speak. I was so overwhelmed with the love and support I received in response to my post that I just lost it, in a good way. So thank you! You made this scared, sad, lost, girl, feel again, and I am so grateful.

Secondly, I spoke to my therapist and we have a plan of action. Just having that makes me feel a little safer and more hopeful. We started this last week by working to double my meds. I have to hope to god this works, because any higher and we’ll be out of baby safe range. So far so good. I also have emergency meds to take if and when it gets quite so bad again. So I feel like I have a bit of a net there to catch me if needed, and I’m hopeful these steps should help balance me out a bit.

Thirdly, I’ve been meaning to write about what creating and being part of a Tribe means to me for a long time now. I never quite get round to putting it into words, but if there’s one thing this last week or so has taught me, it’s the importance of having those people around. It’s about the people who come into your life and make you want to be a better person, help you grow, help you understand yourself and others around you. I am so lucky to have people in my life that do that. That I can spend time with and not just feel better in terms of being consoled, but feel better by being made to feel strong, by remembering I have people who will fight with me, whatever the universe (or my own mind) throws at me.

And I don’t just want that for me. It was a huge part in finally feeling brave enough to have children (or child actually, to be more specific, but “have child” sounds awkward!). I never believed that I could be strong enough mentally or physically to raise a child, but I came to realise that I wouldn’t be doing this on my own. I wouldn’t even be doing this just with Jon. I have the most amazing support, both practically and emotionally, that if I was willing to ask for what I need and let those people help, then I could do this. I’ve always loved the old stories where the children are raised by the village, or where there are a hundred cousins and a million different aunts and uncles. Those aren’t realistic options for me, or indeed for most people these days, but that doesn’t mean I can’t create my own tribe, and that tribe can look however we choose to make it look. Families no longer look like the traditional Mum, Dad, and 2.4 children these days at the best of times, and I have never been traditional in the way I look at the world, and actually for the first time in my life, I’m excited and proud of that. I have so many incredible people around me, some who are close, some who are far away, some I see once a year, some I see almost every day, some I’ve known for my whole life, some have come crashing into my world in the last few months, but one way or another, I want each and every one of those people to be part of helping shape and influence my life and hopefully my child’s life too. I want them know, like I do, that there are so many different people to support them and guide them through life, because honestly, that freedom and that strength is invaluable 💛

“I am because you were”

I think it’s safe to say that on the surface at least, most of my tattoos are not deep and meaningful. Those who know me a bit better know that the placement of my wrist tattoo is significant, that the words on my arm are lyrics to my favourite song, and that everything else is a nod to my pagan beliefs, while being pretty in the process. But today, along with my amazing mum who got her very first tattoo for her 70th birthday, I also got my first tattoo with a real meaning.

“I am because you were”. A short and simple phrase which holds a lot of meaning, in particular to remember my Dad. I have toyed with the idea of getting something for Dad for a long time, but I didn’t want something overt, his name or his birthday for example, nor did I want to get something silly, like a snail (he was called Brian, therefore Brian the snail), so when I came across these words, they seemed perfect. Even more so in the last few weeks, as I’ve been talking to my therapist, telling them about myself, my life, and my parents. It makes me incredibly proud of who I am because of both my parents, and actually because of who I once was too. These words encompass all of that – I am because of my Dad, I am because of my Mum, and I am because of who I was and who I’ve grown to be.

And so this is for all of those things, for all of those people, but most significantly, for my lovely Dad, who (for better or worse!) played such a big part in making me who I am today. 

The Anxiety Monster

This afternoon is Session 1 with my new therapist. Husband jokes that I have so many doctors now that he needs a reminder list every now and again of what they all do. He’s got a point to be fair, it feels like that sometimes.

So this afternoon is Marie Claire (that’s her name, not the magazine, that confused Husband). She was recommended by my Psychiatrist, who in his own words, described her as perfect for me. I swear he had a glint in his eye when he said it, which both worries me and makes me hopeful at the same time. This afternoon will involve talking, not that the sessions with my psychiatrist didn’t, but he, by his own admission, is more about the drugs than the talking, and we’ve focused so much on baby plans that I haven’t had to delve too deeply into the realm of “so how does that make you feel?” yet. 

First battle though is leaving the house. As in physically putting my hand on the door handle, opening the door, and leaving. I’m working from home today, due to sniffles and snot and ickiness, that I don’t really want to share with the office, and that, for some reason, psychologically makes going out very hard. I have yet to figure out what is so hard about it, or why, when I happily leave the house for work every morning, should it become difficult now. Because it’s not the seeing Marie Claire that’s bothering me (nervous though I may be), nor is it the driving there (driving relaxes me). It’s cold outside, which obviously I don’t enjoy, but that doesn’t scare me. So it’s irrational for sure, but I’d like to know what exactly I’m being irrational about.

So that’s today’s first battle. Putting on my shoes and my coat, grabbing my bag, picking up my keys, and standing at the front door for a good ten minutes convincing myself to just leave (while the dog tries to decipher whether this means she’s coming or not. She’s not). On the plus side, it makes the thought of talking about my deep and innermost feelings seem a positive delight in comparison. There’s always a silver lining. 

Things are looking up lizard

Where to start…. As usual, when things are going well I tend to forget to blog. And things are going pretty well. Not always easy, but well.

So first things first – the gluten free diet is still going strong, I’m missing virtually nothing (I’ve even stopped dreaming about warm white baguettes) and most importantly I’m feeling much better from a pain perspective. I’m sure it’s not all completely gluten related, I’m sure some of it is merely eating healthier in general as it’s considerably harder to nip to tesco for shit in the evening, but whatever it is, I love it 🙂

I’ve finally got back to the gym and I’m thoroughly enjoying it. It took a lot of work to motivate myself to go sign up (more about that later), but now I’ve done it I’m going 2-3 times a week and I’m really starting to feel (and see) the benefits. There have been some comedy moments, like my pathetically weak muscles when doing resistance exercises, but it’s getting easier with every session.

I’m in a pretty good place at work. My current role is coming to an end, which I’m pretty ready for now (if US UK relations are still in tact by Sept, it’ll be a miracle), and I’ve got a new project to get my teeth into full time come October. It’ll be challenging, but fun I hope, not to mention that it will include a trip or two to Ireland which is a nice bonus. My health is still something I’m aware of when it comes to work, but it is by no means a barrier to getting what I want 🙂

And finally, I have a bloody amazing pain therapist at the moment who is helping me address things that I really already knew, but didn’t know how to deal with. Some of it is practical – pacing, setting goals, being realistic about what I do, and some of it is delving into things that I’ve never been able to talk about before. Addressing my anxiety and my headspace has been…. hard, but something that I’ve probably needed to do for a long time. I don’t think I really realised quite how much of an issue anxiety has been for me over the last few years. If you’d have asked, I’d have said I was fine, but in reality it’s been slowly stopping me from doing the simplest things. And actually it’s been a relief to even acknowledge it, let alone talk about it. Bear in mind that I was first referred for counselling when I was 17 and it never materialised and I’m now 28. I’ve got quite a lot to catch up on it seems.

So there we go, it feels pretty good to be able to say things are not just ok at the moment, but actually good. For the most part nothing has gone away or disappeared, I’m just learning new ways to deal with all things lupus and life related 🙂