A bit brave

In lockdown, I have attempted to keep active at a level that doesn’t make my injuries worse. For the most part, I have been able to do this although when I fail I have some bad days. This balancing act, between being active and staying injury-free or at least, at a low pain threshold, is quite difficult because I never know how my body will react to some activities. Two days ago, I squatted down to paint a chair and my knee was in agony so I have spent the time resting my leg and trying to keep upright. A little light painting of a garden seat but no heavy work. Doing nothing leaves me anxious so I have to choose activities that work around the injuries. I have begun to accept that I am getting old and I can’t do what I used to do. This has been a hard lesson to learn and my acceptance is still conditional. When in a lot of pain, acceptance goes out the window but I do have a much healthier view of my physical condition. Generally, a simple routine with no extra demands on me and an ...

             1.     Getting through each day and      2.   Understanding my condition. Getting through each day, while in lockdown. I have been trying to find a daily routine that keeps me busy but calm. What I try to do is find enjoyable yet challenging jobs that distract me and relax me. A successful day would look like this. Wake and get out of bed immediately. Put on my bedside light and look around my room for all those things that make me feel better. My guitar hanging on the wall, my new bedside lights, my daughter’s painting, pictures of my family, and the chairs that I have renovated. I have my breakfast and then watch Netflix for an hour. A good film is a great distraction and delays the time I spend on my computer. I enjoy using the computer but find too much and my headaches return. My wife is resting in bed so I take the shopping list and we agree what I need to buy at our local Co-op. I dress and...

When I was first ill, if I suddenly felt tired or if my back hurt, I would have a panic attack. I was quite clear where the anxiety was coming from but didn’t know how to deal with this reaction. The first panic attack I experienced came on a day when I was in bed exhausted from stress but needing to be well, so I could get back to work. This was pressure I was putting on myself but couldn’t see or accept any alternative. I felt exhausted and vulnerable but couldn’t look rationally at the situation. At that moment I felt I was trapped. Since then I have coped with my illness by trying to keep super fit. While I was physically fit I could keep the triggers at bay by feeling strong and avoiding injuries. I had other triggers that could make me feel anxious and depressed but not in the extreme way exhaustion and back pain did. I dealt with those triggers differently but the panic attacks were my priority. When younger, the need to keep active and fit wasn’t a problem. Running, swimmin...

We have all heard the phrase 'trigger happy', denoting someone with a short fuse, but what’s the opposite? Trigger sad? The word trigger can have a very different meaning for many of us. When I grew up, in the old black and white films Trigger was Roy Roger’s horse. Today, for me, a trigger represents that unpleasant moment that sets off my anxiety or depression. When I was first ill, I was unaware of those triggers and would find myself feeling unwell and not know why. This was a terrible situation since I felt out of control. Something was happening to me and I didn’t know why. Over time I have found that talking, reading, and writing about my illness has made me more aware of what I am going through and how to deal with it. I have learned to recognise the triggers that set my anxiety going or plunge me into depression. Knowledge does not stop the triggers but allows me to deal with them more effectively. I am told that there is always some thought that sets off a reaction ...

Sometimes writing in the third person can provide greater freedom of expression.    From, ‘The Note Book’ by Richard Dunn. As usual, he woke with a start. The familiar feelings flooded his mind then his body. His skin burned in gentle waves, forcing him to throw off the bed covers, even though the air was cold. The sweat turned icy on his skin, making him uncomfortable yet giving welcome relief. He couldn’t keep still. He stood up in one movement and began to pace the room. A caged tiger, he needed to use up the adrenaline that had possessed his body, surging through him like a tidal wave. He knew the routine by now. He needed to be fully awake to rid himself of the terror that gripped him. He wanted to cry out in despair but couldn’t bring himself to disturb the quiet solitude of night that wrapped around him like a cloak. The night. It was always the night. He had begun dreading going to sleep because he knew those feelings would come, uninvited, to haunt him...