I’ve been feeling a bit off for the last week or so. I don’t know how else to describe it other than, I’ve been feeling a little bit anxious. I don’t know why, especially when, for the most part, I feel great. After a tough couple of years, I have finally found the energy and the motivation to exercise regularly again. I have a consistent morning routine which sees me entering each day with an enthusiasm that I don’t ever remember feeling. Most importantly, there is a new found playfulness, a lightness in my life, that wasn’t there before.
Aren’t we all tired?
I have been tired for as long as I can remember. The other day I reflected on a conversation that I had a couple of years ago with a work colleague: “I’m always tired,” I told him, “I wake up tired. But it’s the same for everyone, isn’t it?” He looked puzzled, I could see that my words didn’t resonate. I felt like there must be something wrong with me. Or that he was just an anomaly. Surely everyone felt like they were trudging through treacle all week, longing for the respite of the weekend?
It has been a revelation, these past few months, not feeling that. So the anxiety took me by surprise. The first nudge, a churning stomach on the way to meet my dad for a coffee. Then a background feeling of dread leading me to question the safety of my loved ones. A noticing of my voice in conversations, which threatened to lead to panic. Imagining car wrecks on the school run. An unknown sadness showing up each evening, ruining my sleep.
It’s not constant, the joy is still there. Both things: joy and anxiety can, it seems, co-exist at the same time.
I can see why
It has been a busy couple of months. School holidays mean a child filled home, which I love, but which means that I’m not getting the time alone that I have grown accustomed to. I’ve travelled a fair bit, which disrupts my usual routine (first world problems I know). The days have seen me rushing from place to place, leaving me with a feeling of overwhelm; something I haven’t felt since I left traditional work.
I have received little nudges from the universe reminding me to slow down. Firstly, I almost reversed into a parked car when I thought I’d changed the gear to drive. Next, I banged my head on the washing machine door, while I was trying to multitask. Then I almost cut my finger off chopping fruit.
And I’m listening. I don’t want any more reminders, my head still hurts and I like having all of my fingers.
What does this mean?
It has unsettled me, this re-emergence of anxiety. I thought that I had left it behind with my old life. I thought I was doing everything right now. What if none of the things I am doing: the yoga and meditation, the exercise, the healthy diet, the writing, the cold showers, the HRT; are making any difference. What if my improved mental health is just a result of leaving my job. Does that mean that at the first sign of stress, I’ll return to how I was back then? Am I just too sensitive?
I joke, obviously. I think it just means that I need to take notice. To keep my game tight. To slow down, especially when life gets busy. It’s unrealistic to expect that I won’t ever feel any discomfort and I have all the tools at my disposal to get through sticky times like this.
I did some yoga on the deck in the sun yesterday, the cat and the dog for company. As I looked up at the vastness of the sky and filled my lungs with fresh air, I felt completely at peace.
It reminded me to find space in my day for moments like that, then all will be well.
