The snow cleared this week, the weather is a little less cold, it’s February tomorrow and out of nowhere it’s suddenly light until 5pm. The end of winter is in sight, at last.
The bulbs are coming up. The earliest ones have started into flower this week, including a few lovely tiny snowdrops. I absolutely love snowdrops. The sheer audacity of flowering at this time of year and doing it so delicately too. And they look fantastic having just been drenched in winter rain.
I took a day out of back to back meetings on Monday to clear my email backlog which had spun out of control the previous week (part of what caused me to spiral into anxiety over last weekend). Clearing the decks really lifted my spirits and made me feel like there was some hope of getting back on top of things more generally.
There is a lot to be said for just getting on with mundane things, one little task at a time, until you can start to feel like you are at least capable of making some kind of progress, small and simple as it may be.
As the week progressed, I enjoyed little rays of progress and promise here and there and managed to keep reasonably well on top of things. I got outside for a walk most days. A couple of people offered unprovoked positive feedback about the work my team is doing and their growing trust in us to deliver, which was really encouraging.
But on Saturday I woke up filled with anxiety again, this time fretting about the empty day ahead. Of all the things to worry about, you might say; I’d kill for one of those. I’m sure you would and so would I, in theory. But take my word for it an empty, unstructured day can be really anxiety-inducing and overwhelming in the wrong circumstances.
I don’t know why that is, or what I’m afraid of. I just know that when I’m anxious, I need a plan and some structure to act as scaffolding to hold me up. Otherwise, unsupported, I fall down.
I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t deal with there not being a plan. I felt overwhelmed by all the things I should and could be doing with my time (all that undone housework, all those work loose ends not quite tied up on Friday, all those friendships neglected, all those promises not yet honoured….).
And I felt wretched for not doing any of those things but instead sitting in bed panicking. Especially when there are so many other people so much worse off than me and unable to afford the indulgence of hanging around feeling sorry for themselves about it. But that’s the kind of unkind self-hating kick up the arse attitude that really doesn’t help at all. The internalised judging voice of ‘pull yourself together’.
Anxiety is what it is, and I’ve learned the hard way that you might as well own up to it and accept it’s happening if you want any hope of overcoming it. There’s no point at all in layering on guilt and loathing about your guilt and loathing. That way rapid descent into something much worse lies.
Thankfully J was there to help, reminding me to just focus on doing the next thing and not think too far beyond that. One foot in front of the other, one step at a time. He somehow managed to make me laugh and in that moment cajole me out of bed.
And in that kind, gentle, gradual way, I got up, showered, got dressed and headed out for a long walk in the rain. I kept my phone out of reach so I couldn’t get involved in doomscrolling. Instead I just tried to feel my feet on the ground, my love by my side and the rain on my hood.
The lack of internet-based doom freed up a little bandwidth in my head to do a bit of reading later on. It was lovely to read a bit after a few weeks of my reading mojo being largely absent without leave. And then I finally got around to a bit of yoga in the evening to calm my jangled nerves. (I love yoga, but I go through phases of forgetting, not doing it, worrying about starting again and not getting around to it. One day I will learn to just keep going.)
It worked. Today I’m feeling a lot calmer and less ragged. A run, a walk, some comforting food and a few hours stealing a march on the week’s work, and I’m ok.
So, come on then February. Let’s have you.
Keeping the Plot 