Reconnecting

Some years ago, when friends used to ask me how I was feeling, the best response I was able to make was: "I don't know but I don't feel right".

These words have been floating through my brain for the last couple of days. I don't feel quite right at the moment. I am suffering what I would describe as low-grade anxiety - sense of unease, slight constriction in chest, poor quality sleep, a degree of fearfulness. It is the kind of anxiety that up until recently I just accepted and tried not to give too much attention, but I am more careful now that I have experienced this sensation escalating into a full-blown panic attack. (I have discovered it is really quite hard to subsequently hold a poised conversation with someone who has seen you carted off by paramedics....)

So I run through the standard checklist:

Am I hungry? No.
Am I angry? No.
Am I lonely? No.
Am I tired........?

Ah.

I do seem to be more than usually tired at the moment, possibly because I am trying to do too much. Not on the work front, I hasten to add. Just burning the candle at both ends (learning the lines for the play I am in, singing with the choir, going to meetings of my "support group", and writing on a regular basis). Also, there are now a few things Going On which are dragging me back into an environment I have decided is not good for me (I have - after long contemplation - emailed Personnel agreeing to enter into formal mediation with Line Manager).

I am wondering, though, if this anxiety is not simply the aftermath of spending four solid days in the company of committed drinkers during my recent break to Espana. After all, when I asked my youngest sister the time at one point, she replied: "it's Sangrrrrrrrriiiiiiia time !!!"

I think that sums up the situation nicely.

Both my sisters are adorable, but my youngest sister is a particular hoot. She also said things like "not a good look" every time I donned my sunhat; and "ooooh, that must be one of your DEMONS!" when I said anything about work, having been particularly entertained by my account of New Boss's attempt to engage in psychoanalysis (or should that be exorcism...?). Middle sister has a more equable and relaxed temperament, so it is strange to recall that we used to fight a lot. One particular reminiscence consisted of the following exchange:

Middle sister: "that was the time you were trying to hit me with a hockey stick"
Me: "no, that was the time I was trying to kill you..."

Despite having a wonderful mini-break with them, I still get some mild after-effects when removed from my comfort zone. It is this which ensures that I head off to a "support group" meeting with my husband one evening this week. On arrival, we are told that the speaker hasn't turned up - will one of us stand in? My husband looks at me meaningfully.

It's a great meeting, and it's greatness has very little to do with me. It is ninety minutes of connection, humour, poignancy, and love. I spend the twenty minute walk home listening to someone who needs to talk while my husband walks on ahead. And when I get in, I can feel that the anxiety has already begun to lessen.