For the first time in months I'm starting to feel like myself again. I can only describe what has characterised this time, rather than trying to explain what actually happened. Even then it is not easy to say, as the characterisation is more a feeling than anything that can be put into words. Throughout this period I have often found myself unable to voice my unhappiness, a feeling of perhaps not being able to think freely (or at least being unable to think dispassionately). In my mind I could not separate out something that should be good from something that wasn't actually good (for me). But you cling onto the good you can see, and before you know it you've accepted a lot of things that aren't good as being ok. It creates a huge amount of inner turmoil when you want something to work out but this same thing is causing a great deal of worry and stress. I was finding that my anxiety levels would build to the point where I would just breakdown, and any joy for life was contained and subdued. On the face of it though life carried on as normal; I've been going to work, playing football, running and skinny dipping, and spending time with friends and family. But all of this was a mere shadow to what it had been, my mind was often elsewhere (pulled in a thousand directions) and the true, full experience of life seemed to be passing me by. One way or another a breaking point was coming, and even a week ago I was sure that the breaking point had broken me. When your greatest vulnerabilities are spoken against you, you perhaps naturally think that you'll never be able to trust anyone ever again. That for me was my humanity gone, and I really couldn't see any point in carrying on. What (now) seems entirely contradictory was that I was able to share those thoughts with a good friend and someone from my family. It wasn't a case of them having to 'talk me down', but in simply speaking to them I realised that I did trust, and could trust, and love. While I know that I will experience a whole range of mixed emotions for a while to come, there is a lightness and happiness again that has been a long time coming.
I was unsure how much if any of this to share, but I cannot write without that element of honesty. Not in a blog that is little more than a documentation of my experience of life anyway. I have lost track of the number of times I have started to try and write a blog post. But each time I started I found that the words were devoid of emotion. This is where my emotions were focused instead, and now this told, I can begin again to tell of other things.
I'm actually in Borrowdale at the moment - a change of scenery for my days off, sleeping in my van, & catching up with the folk here. A game of pitch and putt was organised for this morning, and even though Glen is away on holiday in Canada we thought it sensible to warn him to look out for stray balls. He was most grateful that we alerted him, as he wasn't sure that he was at the minimum safe distance. I drove Bianca into Keswick (she didn't want the worry of 'un-parking' at the other end), & Rhys and Clare joined us there. For once I had managed to organise a staff sporting activity in dry weather! This was mentioned more than once (it seems that no one has forgotten the torrential rain last time we played, nor the hail storm during our Quidditch match). The golf course was a little busier than when we played in winter, so it was probably a good job that Hanna and her 10 'practice' swings has gone off travelling! I really do miss not being offered a cup of tea made with out of date milk though! It was a fun morning, and pretty successful all round. Bianca didn't fall over, Rhys won, but Claire didn't have to buy Rhys a van (as he never got a hole in one), and I only lost 2 balls (they didn't quite reach Canada so Glen was safe). I'm back to Eskdale tomorrow, and all the ongoing craziness! It's not possible to fill in all the gaps and recount everything that has happened there since I last wrote a blog post, but it remains the most special of places with the most wonderful (mad) people.
