A bad place

I’m finding that there is a world of difference between being a "night owl", and being an insomniac.  My normal 5 or 6 hours of contented sleep has increasingly been replaced by a mind-racing, fidgetty 2 or 3 hours which simply feed the loop from night to day.
 
And there are so many aspects to that loop:  worries about the Mater, Pater and Auntie M; the pressures at work, chasing a series of deadlines which are not being met, with additional "urgent" tasks being added almost daily; the background worries about trying to Chair the choir, which is proving to be a pretty large task, and feels a bit like a runaway train (and which has therefore lost much of the joy of actual singing); and the horrible, all-consuming fear that my own health is actually pretty poor.

And so we come back to me – body and mind.  Intellectually, of course, I understand the many symptoms of stress and depression, recognising them in myself and knowing how I got here, while still feeling a little foolish at the same time.  I even know how such symptoms can manifest in physical ways.  But at 5 in the morning the general backgound of ill feeling, aches and pains, and that huge lump in the middle of my chest are all-consuming, and now, lately, those symptoms are with me throughout the day too.

And so I have at last started to do something about it.  "Unbottling" to Mrs WeeKeef was the start – and now to you, dear reader.  And going to the GP was a big step.  So now I am in another loop.  One involving medication, blood tests and, as of yesterday, a big menacing X-Ray machine. 

And in a week or so, I hope to be able to report that all of the tests have come back negative, that I have been worrying about nothing, and that I am making a start on a better, less toxic lifestyle.  But the inside me – the child of a heart-diseased family, and an ex-smoker of many years – is in a very bad place, and fully expects to have my worst fears confirmed.

And what then?  What then?

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One Response to A bad place

  1. Anonymous says:

    So, amongst the people who may leave you a comment, I am the person who has known you the longest, and one of the ones who treasures you the most. A good friend pointed out to me tonight, over a glass or two of wine, that the mind has a way of saying “Stop – you’re all asking too much of me” and we’ve certainly been doing that to you lately.

    Consciously, you handle everything, but it all accumulates subconsciously. I’m glad you’re letting us all know. Your feelings are all familiar to me, and I truly believe there is nothing wrong with you that will not pass with time and help from people who understand. Be open to anything and everything and know that you are loved and appreciated. And you don’t have to be everything to everybody, even if we make you feel that way.

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