I had a bad day recently- broken sleep, too much coffee the next morning, news of a friends' illness. Then to work for a busy day but I lasted only two hours until I found a quiet corner (my historical crying cupboard- we should all have one) and bawled until the worst was over. I was acutely sad and couldn't think of anything other than Ruby. I was acutely anxious too as if I had been suddenly shocked into a sharp inhalation. But I couldn't exhale, my body wouldn't let me. I couldn't stay at work- I'd be no use to anyone there- and so I came home.
I did what I know works. I threw on my running gear, took my shoes off and ran and ran for thirteen miles around the hills. I pushed myself so hard that I was hobbling for days after because of the bruises to the soles of my feet. At home I showered, ate well and then sat with one of the cats on my lap in the warm sun doing absolutely nothing. I lounged there for an hour, letting my eyes become heavy, feeling the waves of warmth on my legs, just being, expecting nothing from myself. It calmed and grounded me absolutely.
This sense of "just being" was new to me. I guess it is a type of meditation but felt very powerful to have discovered this out of necessity, by myself.
My journey of managing grief and depression had thrown up another surprising coping mechanism- just being- and it's one I will remember and use again and again.
This recent weekend I performed all sorts of minor tricks that I know contribute to keeping me well- I baked a big chocolate cake and iced it with Tom, I baked two delicious sourdough bread loaves, I made lots of meals- Rogan Josh curry, naan bread, spicy Mexican baked beans. We went foraging and I made eight jars of blueberry and blackberry jam. I made a new Lego set with Tom. I ran twice, totalling 34km. I bought new carpentry tools, watched a number of instructional videos online and planned my next projects (jewellery boxes, shelving, storage containers). I made my own wood treatment from beeswax and mineral oil. I tidied the garage. I drank good gin with my wife, and best friend, Claire. I considered my good fortune.
Mostly these things help. But it can take hard effort to keep positive because these are hard times- my sister is acutely unwell but recovering having spent the last two weeks in hospital in intensive care with pneumonia and sepsis, I think a lot about my mum who died a few months ago and whose birthday is next week and, of course, I think of Ruby every day. It is her 16th birthday in two weeks. I finished my antidepressant medication recently after two and a half years and the psychic effort that I need to exercise to keep me moving in the right direction means some activities and some people are excluded from my life for a while.
Sometimes these things don't help and this is why it is so necessary to keep moving, to keep trying new activities. It is important to be acutely sensitive and observant for any slight advantage I can gain over the unhealing wound that is grief. Baking a cake, going for a run, tidying the garage, drinking with Claire. There is nothing superflous about this- it is about creating, about play, about regaining control, about allowing myself simple joy. This is active recovery, using every available means and process to help me cope and push forward. As has been noted elsewhere the best way out is always through.
It is about getting better.
This was my workstation on a recent smithing course. It all helps.
