Sometimes it’s amazing how easy it is to take for granted just how far I’ve come on this journey back to health, even to the point of sulking when this “miraculous” healing doesn’t fit my schedule. Sometimes I am ashamed of my own ingratitude at the great fortune I’ve had.
This is what depression does: it hides the good stuff and emphasises the bad. But I’m learning that life always gives me the opportunity to choose a different reaction, to step back and look again. That’s why I’m sharing this one with you, dear readers, because I think it’s good to be honest about just how stupid we can be sometimes, and how simple it can be to make a better choice.
I walked for over two hours today, across country, up and down hill, with nothing but a five minute sit-down along the way. I didn't use a stick or lean on my husband. I didn't stumble. I didn't feel pain.
I feel miserable, defeated. Why? Because after walking for over two hours, I am now too exhausted to walk back. I'm sitting here in the middle of nowhere waiting helplessly while my husband walks all the way back to the campsite alone to get the car so that he can pick me up and drive me back to base. I wanted to train for my sponsored walk today, but I failed completely, and ruined my husband's day in the process.
Just a few hours ago I was blissfully happy, relishing the warm autumn sunshine, the spectacular Carmarthenshire countryside, and the unfamiliar sense of freedom, being able to just keep walking without worrying, without pain. What changed? Has all that disappeared?
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| By dosh13, via Wikimedia Commons |
Suddenly the early evening sun catches the leaves and grass around me, in four dozen greens and yellows, and I hear myself exhale deeply. A surprising little thought slips quietly into the back row of my mind: What if I chose not to see this as a failure? What if I could play "Pooh" in this story instead of "Eeyore"?
It's a seductive idea. I try it on for size, testing how it might be to feel "ok anyway", checking that it will take the weight of my cynicism. It holds; I can trust this. I realise that it's safe to make a new choice, and let go and relax into that.
I begin to notice more: the sounds of the kids playing in this park where I'm sitting, the heaviness beginning to release my tired feet and legs. I check my watch and realise that my husband will get here soon. I'd better make the most of this moment of quiet in the sunshine while I can. I begin to feel excited to be here in this little village park in the Welsh countryside, so far from the racket and tension of the city, and the gloom of my ordinary life. An hour where I can only sit and rest, and “just be” in this moment - what a gift!
I walked for over 2 hours today, across country and up and down hill, with nothing but a five minute sit-down along the way. I didn't use a stick or lean on my husband. I didn't stumble. I didn't feel pain.
I feel proud of a great achievement and grateful for my health. What a difference a moment makes.
Just a quick one to let you know about this new documentary due out next month. It's all about the connection between the mind and the body - and the good news that this offers all of us living with a chronic condition.
