I suspect the next few days (hopefully it will only be days, not weeks) will consist of me repeating a variation of one question to myself over and over again – what’s the least thing I can do to get myself moving right now? What’s the least thing I can do to make myself feel better?
Last night I felt shell shocked and worn out, but relieved. The hiding had stopped, a plan had been put in place and it was the start of getting better again. This morning though I have a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach at finding myself back in an oh so familiar situation again. I’m not entirely sure whether this is depression rearing it’s head or bpd sending me into shut down for a while, and honestly, I don’t really care which it is. The end result is the same. I find myself at home, alone, looking at the dirty breakfast dishes, and without the ability to will myself to do anything about it. Getting out of bed and showering took a solid hour. As I lay there trying to work up the enthusiasm to move, I kept thinking of all the things I could be doing, or rather, should be doing. I know I have to keep up with yoga and jalking. I’ve probably been more consistent with both over the last month than I have at any point in the last year. If I can find myself in this state after doing all that, god knows how bad I’d be without it. So I progressed from ‘I’ll get up and run’ to ‘I’ll get up and do some yoga’ to ‘I’ll get up and take the dogs for a walk’ to ‘I’ll get up and clean the house’ before finally realising I had to stop at ‘I’ll get up’. That worked. I sat on the edge of the bed for a bit after that contemplating my next step. Shower. Check. Get dressed. Check. Make tea. Check. Write. In progress.
I’m going to have to go right back to basics for the next couple of days at least. I’ve already had to stop myself from jumping ahead to how things are going to be in Kildare – will I still feel that I have to be up and about and engaged with the kids? Most likely. Will I be able to do all of that? No chance, which is why I’m going there in the first place. That’s going to lead to guilt, and lots of it. But I guess no more than I know that every break will lead to stress with Therapist, maybe knowing in advance what’s going to happen will lessen the severity of it? Last night, the thoughts of just giving in, relinquishing all responsibility for a few days and letting someone else look after me felt like the most amazing prospect in the world. This morning I can feel myself resisting it again, and getting angry about it. I guess that’s where the work is.
So right now, what’s the least I can do to make myself feel better? Fresh air with my dogs I think. I’ll miss them the next few days. The dishes can wait.