A few months ago I had high levels of anxiety which manifested in various ways.
I became highly stressed about my car, as I was having problems with the gears and I started to catastrophise about ‘worst case scenarios’, knowing the extent to which I need my car for daily walks with Lydia.
I pushed through on positives as best I could at the time, the worst-case scenario didn’t present itself and my car has been fine for a few months.
Recently, I’ve started having problems with the gears again.
In the intervening months I’ve taken a lot of time to rest and continue to practice meditation, yoga and Qigong.
I write my blog, in 28-day cycles. The process of writing is proving to be very therapeutic. I’ve written intermittently and irregularly for years but not in the same way as I do now.
My daily walks with Lydia have also been therapeutic, giving us both a good start to the day with regular exercise, fresh air and that all important connection with the natural world. In Lydia’s case a lot of her connection is through her nose; for me it is more a sense of the air around me and the ground under my feet; the slow steady movement of walking.
This time I haven’t experienced high levels of anxiety about my car problems. It’s been a minor inconvenience which Trev has helped me with by picking me up from the garage when I dropped it off this morning. It should be ready later this morning and may need a new clutch in the longer term.
Anxiety, I’m sure, arises from past experiences when we’ve needed to address a problem, and haven’t been able – for whatever reason – to find and implement a solution; where everything fell apart and we had no help in finding ways to put things back together. We’ve learnt to ‘not cope’ and to retreat instead of establishing ways of knowing what to do and how.
When I was younger, I had none of the personal resources and resilience that I have now. I wasn’t taught any coping strategies as any assertion on my part would have upset the status quo, however uneasy that status quo was (and it most certainly was uneasy, at best).
However, through experience and reflection I’ve done my best to learn and change, to take responsibility for the things that make up day-to-day life and to see and do things differently.
I still rely on a small dose of anti-depressant medication every day, but the main processes I use are the ones that are active not passive. Moving from passive to active has been the major achievement of my life. The mental effort it has taken has been enormous and sustained, which is why, at the moment, I need to rest a lot as well. Re-focusing and re-prioritising takes time and I need to continue to trust in the process, however frightening the prospect of uncertainty may seem. I’ve come a long way, just in the last few months. I’m not going back now.
I wake early, around 6am, relieved to know that there is no pressure for me to get up and out of bed for a few hours yet.
I set myself a target of 9.30 but rise before then, go downstairs and make a cup of tea. The important thing comes first though – giving Lydia a tummy and chest rub. Then I open the back door and do a few repeats of ‘Healing Form’ as Lydia welcomes the day in her own way. Sue, the Qigong teacher, reminded us of some of the details of the Healing Form movement in the class last night so I was able to reintroduce these to my practice.
It’s a quiet walk for Lydia and me this morning, with no passing cars, joggers, cyclists or dogs; just a tractor going to and fro’ across a field in the distance.
Back home and she has her breakfast from her breakfast ball as usual; she is an expert now at nudging it around with her nose so that the dried food pellets fall out; it’s a lot better for her than passively eating from a bowl.
I have a restful morning, doing nothing much more than loading and setting off the dishwasher, and putting away some clean laundry. I’m sure if I looked around the house I could – and would – find dust and cobwebs in various corners, but on the whole I’m up to date with what needs doing inside.
As it’s Tuesday I visit my friend who used to live in the village but now lives in a care home, a few miles away. Her personal carer, J is there too, and we have a lovely chat together outside in the sunshine while J does M’s nails, commenting on the wonderful weather we’ve had this summer and how we wish we could have weather like this every summer.
After J leaves, I read M a short story from a magazine I’ve brought with me. She lies on the bed and snoozes as I read. At 85, it’s good to see her relaxed and looking so much brighter than she did a few weeks ago. It’s amazing what a change of environment can do.
Arriving home, I have a supply of dental sticks that I ordered for Lydia, and proof copies of my latest books in paperback form waiting for me. I give Lydia a dental stick for a treat straight away and flick through the proofs. I’ll need to look at them in more detail before I approve them for publication, but am pleased on first sight.
Self-management rule no. 20 is a good one: enjoy the process. I have found in my life that it is enormously difficult to do this, but am working on it, and – I believe – getting better at it by the day, bit by bit, step by step.
Lydia and I did a double circuit of our woodland walk this morning. It was good walking weather, neither too warm nor cold, and she was doing really well with her “heel” work, tugging on the lead only a little but also at times pulling herself into the “heel” position, which I was quick to reinforce with the reward of a treat (or three). She’s not just a “good girl”, she’s the best girl (but then I’m biased).
I’m rewarding myself with the treats of a yoga class followed by a Qigong class this afternoon.
I keep to the routine of my ‘Mental Health Mondays’ most weeks, providing the classes are on. It makes for a great start to the week, working at deep levels which, combined with meditation, help me to push through on positives.
That doesn’t mean that I’m always ‘doing stuff’. It just means that I’m working on training my mind to not revert to the negative thought patterns that I grew up with, so that I can move forward in different ways, taking care of my body at the same time as I need it to carry me through.
I’ve taken a further positive step by applying to do some volunteering at the Buddhist Centre.
My offer is one afternoon a month for now, as I don’t want to over-commit on top of existing commitments, particularly since I’m still working through a phase of burnout. But being at the Centre yesterday helped to remind me how replenishing an atmosphere it is, and I have a lot of skills learned in my working life that could be put to good use.
It isn’t always easy, during retirement, to re-establish ourselves after the rigours of working life have taken their toll. I don’t want or need too many things going on but I do need to feel that there is some meaning and purpose in what I do and why I do it.
It was an early start for Lydia and me this morning.
I’d set the alarm for 6.15 but was awake and got up before then.
After a quick cup of tea I took Lydia out for a walk.
She is very amenable and adaptable to changes in routine. We normally have a slow start to the day and I take her out mid- to late morning. However, she took it in her stride – literally – as we walked together for about an hour before heading back for breakfast.
Leaving Lydia at home with Trev, I set off to go to a half-day course at the Buddhist Centre, about a 50-minute drive away.
It’s an easy drive and I arrived in good time for the start of the session: Finding the Hero Within.
I was relieved to find that it didn’t mean I had to be able to quickly don a cape and a vest with a big ‘S’ on it and whizz about in the sky.
The ‘hero’ or ‘heroine’ was defined as anyone who made the decision to train their mind to identify, reduce and eventually eliminate delusional thoughts. Delusional thoughts are those such as ignorance, desirous attachment and anger. These delusional thoughts lead us to believe that our happiness is dependant on external factors or other people rather than ourselves.
For me, an important aspect of the teaching this morning was the emphasis on meditation as the primary means for training the mind, and the acknowledgement that it was all about building things up, bit by bit. Making the commitment, and taking small steps towards achieving it, are the key, with the ultimate aim of building our capacity to be of benefit to others.
This brings me to self-management rule no. 26:Your brief case is an important tool. Use it well. Use it wisely. I’ve struggled with using my brief case – my life – well and wisely, largely because of the mental health complications that I developed as a child and young adult.
I’ve had to do a lot of unravelling, and that in itself has been debilitating and exhausting. Having said that, perhaps what I’ve done is the best that I could do in the circumstances that I was presented with, and now I can start to do things differently, in the circumstances I’m now in?
There is really only one answer to my question, so I’ll continue to meditate, read the dharma (teaching) books, go to classes and retreats and find whatever way that I can to be the best person I can be, for the benefit of others.
I have to confess I find it daunting – terrifying – but bit by bit, step by step, is the way.
Today I’m considering rule no. 3: Establish (and maintain) good relationships with other suppliers (providing the bases are reciprocal).
Not all friendship relationships are reciprocal. I like to think that I can and do reach out a hand of friendship and support to people without any expectation of return. I do, however, have friends where the relationship is one of mutual support. These relationships help to sustain me through difficult times and I do what I can to sustain my friends through any difficult times that they might be having.
Coming, as I am, through a period of emotional and psychological burnout, I don’t have a lot of giving energy available at the moment.
I am, however, gaining spiritual nourishment and sustenance from an increasing commitment to the Buddhist faith.
‘The Liberating Prayer’, composed by Venerable Geshe Kelsang Gyatso Rinpoche, includes the following two verses:
With folded hands I turn to you Supreme unchanging friend, I request from the depths of my heart
Please give me the light of your wisdom To dispel the darkness of my mind And to heal my mental continuum.
Basically, that’s what I’ve been working on for a long time without knowing it but – more recently, since I started reciting this prayer – with growing awareness of what I am doing and why I need to: to dispel the darkness of my mind and to heal my mental continuum.
To know that I can do this, using methods through meditation and putting the Buddhist teachings into practice in other ways, has been like a hand of friendship is helping me to pull myself out of a deep well. I still have to do the work myself – and it’s taking a massive effort – but I’m not stuck and I’m not on my own. That’s friendship.
I also feel an increasing sense of friendship with members of the Buddhist teaching group that I go to. It’s good to have friendship groups as well as ‘besties’ in our lives.
Having just given Lydia a good ‘rub-a-dub-dub’ tummy rub and chest massage, and knowing that she looks out for me and Trev too, in her way, it’s good to know that we have our own friendship group here at home.
There was a tree overlooking the back garden of the house that I used to live in, before this house.
I felt a strong connection with that tree, as its branches extended over the fence into my garden, from the wood where it lived.
Thinking about this tree leads me into thinking about another one of my rules for self-management: establish a good relationship with a stationary (or stationery) supplier.
The tree provided me with a sense of protection, somehow. I know this is really just an invention of my imagination – or at least I think it is – but I liked to think that the tree was looking out for me, as we shared the seasons from one year to the next.
There was a time when I thought I would never leave that house and garden, but I did.
The tree remained but I brought it with me in the form of a poem that I wrote while I was still there. I wrote it from the perspective of the tree.
I, The Tree
It is afternoon soon to be evening as I wait for her to return from the business of her day
I always wait for her and hope she never goes away
I am reaching, always reaching into the garden she has tended for many lonely years
I know that she knows I look out for her and would love to wipe away her tears
But the fingers of my hands are too hard bent and curled
The best I can do is to soften her sorrow with the surprise of spring and after the cold white of winter the promise of a green and bright tomorrow
Summer comes a time I love to share with her and the garden
She – stooped – digging and weeding me with arms outstretched in full and joyous glory once again her in her own way also feeding
Together we grow each through our seasons
Every year I provide a carpet for her feet she thanks me from her heart I feel and looks out for me the Tree hoping I will never go away
I know with all the branches of my being I never will
This morning, in the dog park, while Lydia was enjoying her time off-lead – sniffing and running and chasing – I stood under another tree and did some repetitions of the Qigong ‘Healing Form’ movement. I am continuing to grow, as is the tree.
One of the meanings of the name ‘Lydia’ is ‘beloved. She is.
Some friends have a dog called Faith. Faith is a small dog. I sometimes refer to our friends as, “Oh ye of little Faith”.
Faith is something I’ve been looking for all my life.
For a long time, I didn’t know this. I just knew that there was something missing and I had to find a way of finding it.
In the past I’ve taken ‘leaps of faith’, bracing myself for big steps without knowing where they were going to lead. Landing on unfamiliar ground has led to growth, as I’ve struggled to find my feet and keep going from there.
More recently though, I’ve found an increasing sense of faith in Buddhism; the teachings of Buddha.
Having previously explored different branches of Buddhism, I’ve found strength through the Kadampa tradition, or what is now known as the New Kadampa tradition.
Drawing from my own experiences of Buddhist teachings through the New Kadampa tradition, I find that they are accessible, practical and available.
The Venerable Geshe Kelsang Gyatso Rinpoche – founder and spiritual director of the New Kadampa Tradition – wrote books that present the teachings in a way that is relevant to our modern world and our day-to-day lives.
I’m not a scholar, or a great reader, but I find that I don’t have to be. Other people who are better scholars and readers than me are prepared to share their skills and knowledge, in ways that help me to live my life. That is something I am so grateful and thankful for.
I somehow find that I don’t want or need to question. I just listen, and put what I can into practice on a day-to-day level. It’s so reassuring when I find that even just trying, making a positive effort, is recognised as a step in the right direction.
So, I’ll keep taking those steps, as I keep taking my steps with Lydia when we’re out walking together on a morning. We don’t necessarily know where we’re going, but we have faith that we’re on the right path.
I’ve noticed how her confidence has increased, particularly over this last summer when she makes decisions about what she wants to do and when she wants to do it. The back door is open most of the time, and she comes and goes as she pleases, within the confines of our garden.
While I continue to train her and manage her behaviour around reactivity, reinforcing basic commands such as “sit”, “wait”, “down”, “stay” and “heel”, I like the fact that she works things out for herself, and we sometimes have a compromise. For example, if she’s outside barking at birds or other dogs or motorbikes going by, and I use the “here” command to bring her in, she will often come towards me but then settle down quietly, still outside but near the door. I think this is really clever. She gets what she wants – to stay outside – and I get what I want – for her to be quiet and not disturb the neighbours. I like the fact that we can come to an understanding about this arrangement between us, me using my language and she using hers.
Some people may say that I shouldn’t let her get her own way like this, that I need to be ‘top dog’ but I’ve read that the ‘alpha’ principle that used to be thought to apply to dogs, doesn’t, and I’m happy to go with the latest research.
Lydia belongs here. After the life that she’s had – much of which we know nothing about until she came into our lives through adoption – it’s good to know that she has a strong sense of home now. Her home; our home.
At the poetry open mic meeting that I performed in last week, another reader read out an extract from ‘The House of Belonging’ by David Whyte. I hadn’t heard of it before, but it resonated with me at a level that leads me to want to reproduce it here:
This is the bright home in which I live, this is where I ask my friends to come, this is where I want to love all the things it has taken me so long to learn to love.
This is the temple of my adult aloneness and I belong to that aloneness as I belong to my life.
She soaks up the sun when she wants to, and searches out shady spots when she needs to cool down.
We have a good walk together, mid- to late morning.
I still find the ‘waking up and getting out of bed’ bit of the day very difficult. But I do it, with the help of a routine which involves meditating and sitting quietly with a cup of tea before I do anything else. And this morning I did get myself out of bed a bit earlier than I have been doing, so something must be working.
Over the last couple of weeks, as well as preparing paperback versions of my two latest books, I’ve also taken part in an open mic poetry session at a local library. This was so inspirational not least because the library is in my home town, and I don’t have many positive associations with my home town, due to what I now realise is the trauma I experienced as a child. I disassociated, went into survival mode, and the rest isn’t history because I can hardly remember any of it. But it doesn’t matter. I’ve realised it doesn’t matter because it’s in the past, and I’m living my best life today.
What constitutes a ‘best life’ for me though, doesn’t mean that I need to go on exotic holidays or do ‘special’ stuff all the time. It’s the ‘small’ everyday stuff that does it for me, most of the time. Yes, I like to go out for meals, have treats and takeaways, holidays occasionally, but I don’t want to miss out on what I have around me, in the here and now, every day.
And that includes attending to my own personal paperwork – and filing.
Historically I haven’t been the best at this, although steadily, during the process of my recovery, I have been pulling chaos into order, establishing priorities and making sure that I don’t leave a pile of debris in my wake (literally, in my wake, i.e. when I do ‘pop my clogs’ my affairs are going to be so simple for the Executor to administer).
I first started developing a set of ‘rules for self-management’ some time ago, as an antidote for having been badly managed by others. Ideas for these rules popped into my head from time to time and I wrote them down, not knowing what I was going to do with them, or when I would be able to do anything with them. The self-management rules became ‘poetry rules’ for a while, as I related some of my poems to the inherent principles within.
Now I’m back to thinking again in terms of self-management, and I’m going to steadily work through my rules, applying them to my life as I continue to walk and work with Lydia, write this blog, live with my partner, meet up with friends and neighbours, write more poems, make more pots. I’m going to do my own filing as well along with a lot of other things I want and need to do.
Ambitions
Gleeful
Wild
Outrageous
Contagious
Cheerful
Fearful
Full
Respectful
Disrespectful
Mad
Sad
Glad
Cook
Read a Book
Make Tea
Dance
Romance
Work
Shirk
Naughty
Nosy
Silly
Me.
Available on Amazon for Kindle and Kindle Unlimited:
The health benefits of exercise are well recognised.
Exercise also keeps the brain and your other vital organs healthy.
Experts believe exercise releases chemicals in your brain that make you feel good. Regular exercise can boost your self-esteem and help you concentrate, sleep and feel better.
“I get a huge buzz from my rock ’n’ roll class. Hours later, my legs ache, but I’m still smiling.”
Exercising doesn’t just mean doing sport or going to the gym. Walks in the park, gardening or housework can also keep you active.
Experts say most people should do about 30 minutes’ exercise at least five days a week.
Try to make physical activity that you enjoy a part of your day.
We all know this and are likely to have had direct experience of these benefits.
Why, then, can it still be so difficult to find the motivation to exercise?
It’s an issue that I’ve struggled with all my life, experiencing barriers associated with body image when I was younger. I knew swimming was good exercise but would only ever go to a swimming pool or wear a swimsuit on a beach if I’d starved myself to be thin enough to feel able to do that. And even then, I felt morbidly self-conscious about how I looked. It took a long time and a lot of working through masses amount of personal ‘stuff’ before I could stop worrying and start enjoying swimming. My partner and I even go wild swimming now, and it feels wonderful.
I tried jogging but always found it so hard to build myself up to a regular routine. Lacking in willpower and discipline some people might say. Struggling with severe depression, anxiety and low self-esteem was the real reason. I’ve continued to struggle ever since, but have also never given up. Now 65, I’ve been doing on-line exercise classes, including yoga and pilates during lockdown. Last summer we did some cycling around our local lanes. We still both find that it’s an effort to go out, sometimes, but give each other a push and/or moral support when we need it. Whatever it takes.
What’s the alternative? An inactive old age with all the complications that brings?
I’ve always found it difficult to go to a gym or to exercise classes after work. Just getting through a day involved such a major effort for me. So, I looked for ways to combine exercise into my daily routine. Cycling to work meant that I often turned up looking like a drowned rat, but it did help.
Even so, I continued to struggle with depression and continued to find it hard to motivate myself to exercise enough to help it lift on anything more than a temporary basis. I felt like the only way I could sustain the ‘lift’ would be to train as if I was an Olympic athlete. I have neither the physique nor the talent to be anything remotely akin to athletic and, like most people, have had to commit a significant amount of my time to earning a living and keeping up with the usual day to day domestic activities.
There were times as well when I felt that the more I exercised, the deeper my depression went, after the initial ‘buzz’ fell away.
I continued to have to do a lot of work to try and shift it, with exercise being one of a number of tools and techniques that I’ve tried and tested over the years. It has been, and continues to be, a lifetime endeavour. I think that this is in part because of the way emotions are stored in the body, a matter which has been increasingly recognised and written about including the following article by Sean Grover (2018):
For years, I’ve made a study of where people tend to store their unwanted emotions. Certainly, not all body aches or illnesses are psychosomatic. However, as I studied people’s bodily reactions to stress, recurring patterns emerged.
Healthy vs. Unhealthy Repression
Fear is the driving force behind repression, and is frequently rooted in your past. Repression is often necessary, particularly when you feel overwhelmed or experience trauma. But an overdependence on repression fuels psychosomatic symptoms and self-destructive patterns.
In his article in Psychology Today, Sean Grover goes on to identify the ‘Top 10 Tension Areas for Unwanted Feelings’ as:
1.Lower Back: Anger 2. Stomach & Intestines: Fear 3. Heart & Chest: Hurt 4. Headache: Loss of control 5. Neck/Shoulder Tension: Burdens 6. Fatigue: Resentments 7. Numbness: Trauma 8. Breathing Difficulties: Anxiety 9. Voice & Throat Problems: Oppression 10. Insomnia: Loss of self
I find this interesting and helpful, relating these areas to recent and past experiences.
I did a lot of work on repressed anger at one point, including going to a workshop where I was encouraged to take a lot of it out on a punch bag. The physicality of the release at the time was phenomenal (although I did go into a kind of ‘toxic shock’ afterwards, so I would not recommend anyone trying this approach without a very strong support network around them).
Some years later, experiencing stress at work, I searched out volunteering opportunities, finding an outlet by doing trail maintenance work where I could break big rocks into smaller rocks to make hardcore with a sledgehammer. I came back refreshed and invigorated. Although the effects did wear off after a while, I have so far – touch wood – not suffered from lower back problems.
Fatigue and resentments strike a chord with me – I’m so good at hanging on to them, no wonder I feel tired all the time!
So, while I’ve done a lot of work on myself to get to this point, and to feel largely positive about the position I’m in, there’s still a lot to do.
It’s often the enormity – or perceived enormity of the challenge – that puts us off dealing with it, which leads to repression, which leads to depression….
There are no easy answers or quick fix solutions, especially when difficulties are deep-rooted. I just keep reminding myself that it’s all about the next step. And the one after that. And the one after that. It does get easier. Miraculously – it feels to me – my steps feel a lot lighter, at the age I’m at now, than they did when I was young, all those years ago! Something must be working, somehow. Barriers can be overcome. It’s not easy, but it’s worth working at it, bit by bit.
Glad About 
You must be logged in to post a comment.