There were eight of us at the poetry group meeting this morning.
I hadn’t had breakfast before I went but I felt nourished by the nature of the group, sharing words that we’d prepared and formed in whatever ways we wanted to.
On the way home, needing food for body as well as soul, I bought buns and vanilla slices for me and Trev.
I then headed out again for the Open Day at the kennels that I take Lydia to when we’re away.
The kennels have a rescue and rehoming facility as well as the business side, so I like to support them in whatever way that I can. There were plenty of other people there to support them too.
Lydia and I had a rest together this afternoon. The importance of rest is a lesson that I’ve been learning only recently. Sometimes, the time and circumstances just have to be right.
Van Gogh featured in the discussion at the poetry group. He struggled to rest, with all the complex thoughts and influences going on in his mind, channelling his energies through paint. Quite how he found the focus for this I don’t know, in the time and circumstances that he lived in. But he did.
The theme for next month’s meeting was agreed and set as “something funny”.
I’m looking forward to thinking and writing about something funny. It’s time I had a good laugh. I’ve had to work hard and dig deep to turn my life around through decades of difficulties and distress. Now is the time to start having fun.
Despite having had the luxury of a camp bed at the weekend, today I woke feeling aches and pains in places where I don’t usually feel aches and pains.
It was just as well, then, that I had my usual Monday afternoon yoga and Qigong classes to go to. Both proved exceptional in helping me to relax and re-energise.
In the relaxation session at the end of yoga, I had the added benefit of a brief shoulder massage by the teacher.
In Qigong we continued to work on the wonderful movement of ‘dragon’, building up to it in ways that encourage flexibility and focus.
I then took Lydia for a walk in the wind.
It was a warm but quite strong wind and I think we were both invigorated by it.
As I write, it feels like my whole body, breath and being have had good workouts.
Further nourishment comes from the broccoli soup that Trev has made for tea.
Grey island you spin and swirl around me (or is it the sea?) as I sit and wait for my thick-headed brain to clear which it does almost, but elusively and all too briefly teasingly still tense tension immense
Four seagulls soar one sits probably shits (or is that on the wing?)
Thrift, rock, heather purple, black, yellow, mauve green, grey, white weather wild mild quite
Walking, talking, inwardly I sit (still) and wait for my thick-headed brain to clear and allow me to feel the joy of the sea and the splendour of the trees and everything around me
So, I sit (on a rock) and wait for my thick-headed brain to clear and know that someday soon it will be free hopefully
1998
A quarter of a century after I started my self-directed journey of recovery from a complete personal breakdown, it would be easy to think at this stage that I never will get that sense of mental clarity that I have been seeking.
I hoped by now that I could have been sailing instead of struggling to find the energy to get through each day in a remotely positive way.
There are significant differences though, between then – when I started out – and now – when I’ve arrived at a particularly low-down point, wondering how on earth I’m going to summon up the motivation and momentum to start going ‘up’ or ‘forward’ again.
The most significant difference for me is that now I’m in a loving relationship. My partner and I care for and about each other in ways that make us both feel good. He suffers from depression too, so we often alternate in terms of who most needs support from the other at any one time. We’ve both had almost catastrophic life experiences to contend with in the past, both just come through by the skin of our teeth, both had to learn to trust again – often the most difficult thing of all, including trusting ourselves as well as each other. And we’re both now thankful that we’ve found each other. ‘Together Forever’ is our motto. We want to make the most of the time that we have – both now in our 60s – and that, in itself, is a motivator. At the same time, I’m still feeling profoundly exhausted and know that I need to do some more work on myself to pull out of this and finally put the traumas of the past behind me.
I know that it’s important to sometimes push myself and at other times do nothing. Doing nothing is hard as it brings with it the fear that it will become a permanent state and that I will vegetate from doing nothing to being nothing. At my age, fear of dementia also comes in to the mix. But in the depths of depression, doing anything at all feels like just too much, so where do I start?
I keep coming back to affirmations. Affirmations, some gentle regular exercise, healthy eating, not too much alcohol. All sensible things.
The affirmations I’ve identified for myself at this time are for depression and hearing problems. While I don’t really have hearing problems as such – other than age-related deterioration – I do have problems with ‘itchy ears’ and I have also had problems in the past with being heard.
I set about learning and practising active listening skills when I trained as a volunteer bereavement counsellor – it must have been about 20 years ago now. I’ve found those skills invaluable in different jobs and roles that I’ve held, although more latterly I’ve found it increasingly hard to concentrate. Active listening, by definition, means giving another person full attention. I think my body and brain have been telling me to give myself full attention for a change; had I ‘listened’ to what they were telling me earlier, I might not have arrived at the state I’m at now, although by the nature of cycles, they do have to go full turn.
Anyway, the affirmations that I’ve found, to say to myself when I can and when I need to, are:
“I move beyond other people’s fear and limitations. I create my own life.”
When I say each of these, at the very low ebb that I’m at now, I get a sense of uplift in my spirit, even if my body and brain are running well behind. I hold on to the belief that they will catch up though. Eventually.
Oh, and of course writing – something, anything – can be therapeutic as well. I’m going to keep writing, and affirming. And washing up, and doing a bit of gardening …
Once, upon a green and white day, I walked, with shades of blue and grey above, and occasional muted pools of golden light along the way.
Cold and still, it was as, wrapped in thoughts and clothes, I lumbered on, taking weary steps in heavy boots, glad to be out but ill at ease and with no easy motion.
Then, suddenly, up ahead, a quick quiet movement of life and limbs, and fur of warm brown red.
A dog, I thought, at first – but no – a fox!
I stopped and stared, and thrilled at each tight turn.
Alert though not aware of me, she moved, close enough to see the splash of white upon her breast; no cunning vixen, she, with body, mind and spirit in perfect poise and purposeful grace beside the still and silent trees.
Doing what she needed to do. Being what she needed to be.
But then I moved and she was gone.
So I carried on through the green and white day with shades of blue and grey, moving easier now but missing her and wishing, that our eyes had met, that I hadn’t seemed a threat.
For in her hungry hunt for food she had nourished me, and warmed my heart while her cold search went on.
Alone, both, and alive.
She free, and I a few steps closer now, to being me.
Fox, Alert
Once, upon a green and white day, I walked
with shades of blue and grey above
and occasional muted pools of golden light
along the way
Cold and still, it was as
wrapped in thoughts and clothes
I lumbered on
taking weary steps in heavy boots
glad to be out but ill at ease
and with no easy motion
Then, suddenly, up ahead
a quick quiet movement of life
and limbs
and fur of warm brown red
A dog, I thought, at first - but no -
a fox!
I stopped and stared
and thrilled at each tight turn
Alert though not aware of me
she moved, close enough to see
the splash of white
upon her breast
no cunning vixen, she
with body, mind and spirit
in perfect poise
and purposeful grace
beside the still
and silent
trees
Doing what she needed to do
being what she needed to be
But then I moved
and she was gone
So I carried on
through the green and white day
with shades of blue and grey
moving easier now
but missing her and wishing
that our eyes had met
that I hadn't seemed a threat
For in her hungry hunt for food
she had nourished me
and warmed my heart
while her cold search
went on
Alone, both
and alive
She free, and I
a few steps closer now
to being
me
(c) Maggie Baker 1998 & Glad the Poet 2020
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