7 May. The day before my birthday. It’s a mixed day over London. Dull grey clouds flow quickly across bright blue sky. It rains in cold, gusty downpours and my umbrella upturns as I hurry to meet Chris. I was early for a change. Normally I’m the one who keeps Chris waiting. But he’s good natured and never complains.
We meet at High Street Ken, shop for a bag of picnic treats and head to Kensington Gardens. Under a tree just away from some long grass, we grazed on our goodies. I laughed at Chris’ penchant for pork pies but I had one notheless. It felt good to be out in the open. Not that I wasn’t anxious, I was.
The bus journey from my quiet home to a busy high street had me in knots of panic. And the walk up the crowded high street to the park had me feeling exposed and disconnected. Alone I would have walked quickly with eyes ahead wishing it was over. I hate the feel of my weight gain, the medley of people and the anxious worries that churn over and over in my mind. But I’m not alone, I’m with Chris. At least in part.
I’m talking and smiling and soaking things up but I’m also narrating, describing the scene to myself in my head. ‘Listen up’ the narration implies by its descriptions ‘this is what’s happening, you need to pay attention’.
The narrator’s been around for a while, delivering mundane scenes to me and I react to them with concious effort because I’m very aware of something else. There’s another part of me sitting timidly in the background, lost in states of panic, fear, self reproach, confusion, loss, despair and utter bewilderment. I’m fragmented with no compass points and I’m desperately trying to seize myself back.
I was once a lively and curious being, full of ambition and unfettered self confidence. I was arrogant but not snobbish and I had big dreams of being a screenwriter whilst I nursed a parallel career in healthcare. I loved myself, my family, friends and life. Things were good.
And then came the crash. A psychological melt down triggered by unnoticed stress and a storm of events. I was dragged through hospital and I came out the otherside a very different being. I was broken and dislocated from the sense of my previous self. I had to relearn who I was and where I fit in. It’s taken me months to figure that out and I’m still learning.
The old me has retreated into a shell and struggles to engage. The ‘new’ me is uncertain, has no points of origin and is moving forward with seemingly logical steps: search for a job, do voluntary work to plug the gap, workout, reconnect with friends, wake up in the morning with energy and purpose. The latter hasn’t worked yet but I’ve made progress in the other areas.
In the park with Chris my timid self is in eddys of anxiety. I’ve got two job offers that I’m not keen on, two sets of voluntary work opportunties and the frightening prospect of applying for an MA in Social Work. I’m upbeat with Chris but I’m also honest as I discuss my options. He’s supportive and insightful but he doesn’t allay my fears about the job offer I prefer. The long tube journey. The shift work. The panic of returning to work after so long away. I’m terrified.
A heavy downpour forces us to leave the park and head to my place. We have more treats and comfortable silences, and Chris eventually heads home in the late afternoon. I’m alone, withdrawn and I revert to the usual: curl up on the sofa and watch mind numbing TV. It anaesthetizes me.
“May is Mental Health Awareness Month (USA). Please help us raise awareness by sharing this infographic… For a closer look, click on the picture.”
through the round window 