Managing the Darkness
I am in the longest period of continued darkness that I can remember for a while. It's now in its 5th week. This time it is different though. I am functioning well. Probably at about 60%. I have made all of my commitments. I have not shut myself away or spent days in bed. But I know the darkness is there. My anxiety churns over and over in the pit of my stomach.
The darkness manifests itself in little ways:
I am not using social media. So much so that people are messaging me asking if I am ok. And I should probably think this is nice but I don't. I want to be left alone.
A friend went to hug me as we parted company the other day. I froze. I didn't want her to touch me. I felt my skin crawl as she embraced my stiff, tense body. And I am a girl who loves physical affection. But not when I am trying to shut the world out. I wanted to tell her not to touch me. It took a whole lot of energy to restrain myself and allow my body to be held.
I am getting tension headaches every day at about this time. My throat is dry no matter how much water I drink. My body is tired, tired, tired. I crave coffee, sugar, alcohol.
And this is where I know how easy it would be to fall back into old habits. I went out for a drink last night with a friend. I drove intending to have just one but wanting so many more. And I arrived not having eaten anything all day except a sandwich. I had three drinks and I ordered some food. A compromise with myself. I got enough of the release my body craved without tipping me over the edge and sending me hurtling back down the stairs.
I don't know how long the darkness will continue. I am not used to this prolonged but much less intense experience. I guess this is what it means to manage it. Spending three days in bed means I get over it quicker but far less efficiently. I have cried several times over the past five weeks. About what, I couldn't tell you. So many things seem to have come together to turn themselves into a churning ball of anxiety inside me. But my built-up emotion is finding an outlet. And of course I am writing ...
The darkness manifests itself in little ways:
I am not using social media. So much so that people are messaging me asking if I am ok. And I should probably think this is nice but I don't. I want to be left alone.
A friend went to hug me as we parted company the other day. I froze. I didn't want her to touch me. I felt my skin crawl as she embraced my stiff, tense body. And I am a girl who loves physical affection. But not when I am trying to shut the world out. I wanted to tell her not to touch me. It took a whole lot of energy to restrain myself and allow my body to be held.
I am getting tension headaches every day at about this time. My throat is dry no matter how much water I drink. My body is tired, tired, tired. I crave coffee, sugar, alcohol.
And this is where I know how easy it would be to fall back into old habits. I went out for a drink last night with a friend. I drove intending to have just one but wanting so many more. And I arrived not having eaten anything all day except a sandwich. I had three drinks and I ordered some food. A compromise with myself. I got enough of the release my body craved without tipping me over the edge and sending me hurtling back down the stairs.
I don't know how long the darkness will continue. I am not used to this prolonged but much less intense experience. I guess this is what it means to manage it. Spending three days in bed means I get over it quicker but far less efficiently. I have cried several times over the past five weeks. About what, I couldn't tell you. So many things seem to have come together to turn themselves into a churning ball of anxiety inside me. But my built-up emotion is finding an outlet. And of course I am writing ...
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