Resurfacing

When one "Bad day" turns into another, there is a process of resurfacing when the tide goes back out. There is very little to it, save for tiny moments of clarity that come unbound in the darkness. Perhaps you crawl out of bed and stay out of it for a few minutes longer than you did the day before. Perhaps you answer a phone call, even if only for a moment. Resurfacing is like a temporary re-birth. All the quotes make sense again and fresh air has some meaning. I am currently resurfacing after a weekend in bed, traumatised by the events of the week before. Which, I am aware, were quite trivial. But I am also aware that anxiety feeds off trivial matter. My emotions are amplified, whether they are good or bad. Perhaps it may seem as if I am overreacting. But in reality, I feel everything too intensely and react accordingly. Which is probably why I quite enjoy the resurfacing process. I am positive, I am proactive, I am motivated. I am able to arrange my thoughts in neat little lines that make absolute sense and I can cope with each one beautifully. There's a vast difference between resurfacing and having a "Good day". You can only resurface if you have been drowning.

There are various physical manifestations of drowning. Of course, I use the term metaphorically. Chest pain and difficulty breathing. Light headedness and fatigue. I awoke in the early hours of sunday with an intense pain that threatened to crush my chest and ribs. I took some strong pain killers and drifted off into the abyss and when I woke up I was still under water. By monday it took every ounce I had to drag myself back into the world that had inevitably continued spinning whilst I hid under my rock. I was still drowning, I was still shrouded in darkness. Its strange how easy it is to function on autopilot. I now feel ready to begin resurfacing. It's wednesday.

The first thing I do is text my friends. The worry that they will forget about me is a very real thing. I enquire as to how they are, and remind myself that there are others swimming in the same ocean. Even if its just few random insignificant messages, I have made contact. And I am not forgotten, and neither are they. The next thing I do is make social arrangements. Having something to focus on is paramount, and even if I don't feel like going at the time of the event I will endeavour to go regardless. I watch my children, and remember that I am the most important person in the world to a small few. Even if I don't feel like there's a place for me anywhere. I sit down to write a new blog post, more poignantly. The ability to put this disease of the mind into words I find is almost an utterly baffling thing. And then I go to the man I love, and I thank him for being in the water with me and drowning by my side. Resurfacing is good for the soul, but its also good for the souls around you. They love to see you smile and laugh and eat. And even though you will always panic in a situation which requires bravery, or shy away from making bona fide decisions, the fact you got out of bed is a massive achievement.

I am aware of my weaknesses. My triggers. I know what it takes to reduce me to a breathless wreck, tearful and afraid and in need of a place to hide. Perhaps I am lucky in the respect that I also know what I need to do to regain my strength. Literature is a healing tool. Music is a two sided coin, but when it is used to bring the self back it is magic. Even holding a conversation is theraputic if you haven't spoken much lately.

Which leads me to the part of resurfacing that isn't always positive. Resurfacing can appear incredulous. How can someone so happy, so outgoing, so "ok" have been unable to get out of bed a few days ago? How can they have been in physical pain from mental illness? How is it possible to be one way and another in the blink of an eye? People might be sceptical, especially if you are open about your mental health issues. There will always be stigma, and judgement. And it will never be reconciled. How we portray ourselves to others will never truly be how our inner selves appear. And this is true for every single human being on the planet, not just those with mental health issues. We find ourselves being able to be more free with who we truly are with a choice few who we keep close. But do we ever wear our true faces? We're all facets of one truth, and we alter each part for the people around us. For family and friends, for work and formal obligations. Life is a spectrum of outlets, and they all require different things from us. I would love to know what it feels like to succesfully navigate all these outlets. But I never will. I accept that.

For now, I brace myself for the things I cannot control. Sometimes I have to let it go if my text is read and not replied to. If a brown envelope from the tax office comes through my letterbox. If I have a job interview because the job I feel safe at is closing. When these things occur during resurfacing then they are dealt with, I presume, as if by someone who did not have anxiety. Or at the very least, a functioning human being. I catch myself in moments of solitude and I wonder why I cried over certain things that did not require tears. My tears did not change the outcome and yet, I cried regardless. And maybe I always will. Maybe I will always be drowning, and for a few sweet moments find some respite on the surface.

Stay with me.