Showing posts with label adventure. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adventure. Show all posts

Friday, 8 September 2017

worry


We worry a lot. About all sorts of things. ‘Did I lock the door?’ ‘Will so-and-so do well in their exam?’ ‘What will happen at doctors?’ and ‘HOW WILL I EVER GET TO THE LEVEL OF CAKE CREATION ON BAKE OFF?’ All sorts of worries – some big, some as small as questioning our own culinary skills. Often questions we don’t know the answer to but one day will. That’s the concrete truth in all this. We will have the answer, one day, maybe in a few hours or maybe in a year, but the answer will almost always come. So why, oh why, do we waste time with worry? Or perhaps if we are worried about someone’s health, panicked about the result, worried about the aftermath – what use is our worry to the person who is suffering?

And then there's the suffering that comes with our worrying. It might be small, but on occasion my worry has lead me to be slower at job, it has caused arguments with family, it’s even made me accidentally smash a plate or a cup or a glass or some other smash-able object – and it has gone further than that. But that’s another story. The worry I’ve dealt with has caused me pain and also troubled and harmed the people around me. 

The basic fact though is that it is incredibly easy to stop these troublesome thoughts. The hardest part is realising that you can. We have control over what takes up space in our brains but of course we cannot necessarily control what enters them, but we can decide which thoughts stay and which thoughts get shoved out of the metaphorical skull door. Because worrying isn’t helpful to anyone. It’s harmful and painful. So now, how do we stop it? We just stop. We come to realise that almost everything that happens is out of our control, the health of a partner or the results of a test, they aren’t things we can change. We can’t be heroes. Unless of course you’re a doctor or a nurse then I suppose you are a hero and please keep up the bloody good work. You’re totally fabulous and you should not worry either, in fact, I have a theory that those in health care worry the least, because they cannot possibly have the time. They are possibly masters of the worry-less life.  There’s so much to worry about right now, big huge massive things – Trump's America, wars, austerity, hurricanes, you only have to switch on the news to be fraught with anxiety within seconds. But I ask you this, instead of letting that panic grow can you ask yourself – ‘What can I do to help this situation? Is it do-able? Can I change anything here?’ Perhaps you can, maybe you can slip on your dressing-gown and check if the door is really locked. Or you can sit with your distressed teenager while they revise, buttering them hot crumpets and making copious amounts of tea. But if the answer is ‘no’, if nothing can be done but waiting, or hoping, then have that hope, hope for better tomorrow, be more compassionate and kind and loving. And start by being kind to yourself and saying - ‘I accept this problem, but I cannot directly help, so I shall not worry because you sir, are a highly distressing thought and you will cause me pain.’ Let the thought dissolve with the knowledge that you did your best to be helpful. Centre your focus on something that IS helpful and continue your day. Because it is your day. And you have the power to make it a day to be proud of. Now I understand there are those worries that can’t get out the skull door, they’re too fat and cruel. So talk them out, find a friendly ear (a non-judgemental buddy), pick up the phone, chew it out till it’s shed it’s heavy weight and it’s no longer exhausting to carry around. Or write it out, paint it out, meditate it out, run it out, find your thing that frightens that thought away. You're so much stronger than that "thought" can ever be. Because the crux of it is, worrying is exhausting, it’s the mightiest, most pointless weight to carry and you have the power to put it down. It’s not always easy but it’s doable. My worries still come at me, but I give them a little shove when they squeak ‘you might never own a house,’ ‘have you seen your student debt?’, and 'what the hell are you doing with your life?' and I say- ‘that’s future Megan’s problem, how the hell do you expect me to be happy now, if I worry about all that stuff that I can’t change or that I'm already fighting for?’

Saturday, 30 July 2016

THIS IS A POLYESTER BLOOD BATH

Sometimes I just can’t get dressed. I keep putting on clothes, but my lovely anxiety rips them off. Determined to keep me in the nude. Each layer I try to cover my skin in gets dissolved almost instantly. (I’m almost positive my anxiety fancies me; always wanting me to stay home with her, not letting me wear clothes… it’s all very dark and possessive). My anxiety whispers in my ear while I pull jeans and tops and shirts and onesies and poker dot dresses from draws, she says ‘you can’t wear that. Not with that belly.’ And ‘is that really you? You’re not that person, not loud enough or bright enough. Not generally enough at all.’ It’s all very chaotic as I scramble half naked in a Gollum like fashion around my room, muttering, and cursing, and tossing clothes around. Then along comes Mr OCD, furiously screaming at the top of his lungs ‘IT’S THE END OF THE WORLD! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE! THIS IS A POLYESTER BLOOD BATH!’ He then faints on the bed while my anxiety laughs manically as she swings from my curtains. I crawl into a spoon next to my lifeless OCD, naked, and crying. I’m paralyzed while the room around me sings my horrors (the total opposite of singing someone’s praises) and I wonder how it is even possible for anyone to hate themselves this much.  


In this world I live in now, people are so constantly judging us on the outside or perhaps it’s just we judge ourselves on the outside too much. Either way, there’s too much pressure on the glitter on our faces. Our Instagram pages so full of the fake and the self-hatred. It all feeds the pets in our brains, fuels the eating disorders, the anxieties, the depressions, gives them so much power. So I think I’ll duck out for a while, head far away. Clear my brain, go on my “gap yah”, “find myself”, and all that shit. The fact that I can’t get dressed isn’t the only reason I’m running away. The main reason is that I just want one big fat adventure. And of course I need to bring all my buddies with me. The ones that scratch through my veins and around my brain. But perhaps India is the best place for them, I can’t imagine they’ll do well in the heat, unlike me and my ginger skin that will clearly turn beautifully golden… (I got sunburnt once in the Lake District… In April.) So it looks like it’ll be my greatest challenge yet. So for now, good bye England, hello Indian adventure.