There's a familiar tightness in my chest, and an inability to take a full breath at the moment, and I'm not sure why. Am I doing too much? Not enough? Mad? Scared? Afraid, of what?
All I know is that my way to get through it is to write. It doesn't matter what I write, no premeditation, it usually just comes out, whatever it may be. Which is nice, it means that I've learned to accept and be patient with this feeling of anxiety, knowing it too will pass... somehow.
Ironically, I came across two remarkable things today. This post on instagram, and a photo of my journal entry from last year. I was suffering from PTSD from a tragic and untimely death in the family, and post natal depression (because I thought all woman who stop working and start nurturing feel that way??) Let me tell you, I went low. I was kind to myself, to a degree, and a beautiful friend and psychologist said "you do whatever you need to, to get by." So I did. I drank wine every night, I wallowed, I slothed, I loathed, I flarbed, I cried, and then I drank more wine. I became a pro a numbing my feelings; good ones, bad ones, and every excuse in between. I didn't know how I would pull myself out of it, I had tried (and failed) to 'schedule' in my grieving, what more could I do?? At which point, a voice in my head said,
"It's okay to sit in it... just don't get stuck in it."
The funk, the wallow, the low, the dark. Sit; but don't get stuck.
And just like that I started to feel better. I don't know what it was; maybe the light bulb that I really did NOT want to be like this forever, I'm not sure. But day by day I started climbing out of it, and here I am.
So when tension like today's arises, I am much better at acknowledging how far I've come. I'm not scared to face the feeling of it (of course I want it gone) and I'm not reaching for the wine to numb it all away. I'm writing instead. And it feels so good. Along with the thought of curling up in bed with Netflix or a book and letting myself chill. Being kind, and breathing, is all I can do until the realisation of 'why' I'm feeling this way or what triggered me, arises. Until then all I can do is love myself unconditionally, so that's what I'm going to do.
K x
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