What goes up, must come down
When there is an up there is inevitably a down.
What I had not anticipated was how low the down would be and so quickly.
Starting last night, my back felt like it was having a proper shout. Every muscle ached from the upper to the lower back. Rooted in the shower, I let the water drum into my shoulder muscles which felt tight and restricted.
My dreams were anxious, a range of scenarios that included being in the wrong place at the wrong time, toilets overflowing, mopping up the resulting mess, my husband having a secret love affair, and more. Now if my father were alive, he would have made me put a bet on a horse after dreaming about poo. He always believed that these dreams meant money. I instead think that it is a symbol of transition, or simply movement, or one kind or another!
Those troubled dreams entered my nervous system and I woke up on day eight with a thumping headache and pain in my back which was an anxious pain, not a real pain.
The bed sucked me in and would not let me leave, my partner, exited early to go to the gym, and I was still there at 9.30 when he returned. No painkillers, no breakfast, which made the slump even worse.
For those of you who experience these highs and lows regularly, you may see parallels with your own experience.
Forcing myself out of bed and down, I could barely make a cup of tea, before calling the doctor to get more tablets.
And then I felt the pain in my shin. That same ache that I have had for many months. My anxiety had cracked the door open and allowed the pain to creep back in. A pain that delighted in the misery it found in my body. This was a comfy spot, a known spot, a place for it to settle in. The frustrated tears were just enough to push that pain out although I can sense their toes still in the doorway, wanting for a sneaky opportunity to come back in.
Distraction was my next ploy.
I listened to the next episode of my current favourite podcast – Strangers on a Bench, where two strangers have a conversation about what is happening right now in their life. The revelations that come in these short conversations remind me of the many wonderful and interesting stories that we all hold in our hearts. The joyful music and curiosity in both the interviewer’s and interviewee’s voices lessened the anxiety.
Yellow tee shirt on, face washed, teeth brushed and hair tamed. Let’s see how this day progresses.
Well, it ended better than it started. Like the rolling waves of pain that come and go, so do our negative emotions but for me, the swells are larger now, which means more time has to be spent on the downs.
I had two visitors today who lifted my spirits and sent me on the swell-up. Emmy, who shared her indomitable spirit, recovering from soft tissue damage that she received after taking up jogging. Emmy is 70 and the most inspirational people you can ever meet. We shared lunch enjoying the simple pleasures of soup, bread, and cheese plus a little ice cream. She walked with me around the block where we were both taken by the dedication of an army of ants as they traversed the trunk of a hornbeam, entering the leaf canopy and exiting, stopping from time to time to share a message or two from their journey.
Later, Liz arrived and we made a plan to start our very own book club of two starting with Is the River Alive by Robert McFarlane. We both had the pleasure of listening to him speak at the Royal Geographical Society at the launch of the book in early May. We decided then that we would hold off reading the book until my recuperation period. By next week, we will have read the introduction and will share our responses as all good book club readers do in a week.
Another walk ensued, this time the red poppies that had caught my eye earlier were admired once again. Tissue paper petals that will be gone very soon, but in the time that they are here are joyful to see. A symbol for me of resilience, as they grow in the verges and fields and poor soil. The dark painterly lines reminding of a river delta as it meets the ocean.
The height of the swell had subsided by the time I went to sleep, there were still niggles remaining, but as I slept I took resilience, perseverance, and curiosity to bed with me.
