i’m very lucky…
…in many ways. Today, because I felt I needed to, I was able to just rest and listen to the rain. I’ve been pushing myself a lot recently, maybe too much, and it’s time to dial back a little and rest.
A few years ago, before I really realised I was ill, I used to wake every morning in a huge panic about the day. Eventually the panic just became my constant background music, so much so that I couldn’t imagine life without it. I would be constantly terrified about all that I needed to do and my inability to get it done - which never stopped me trying. I spiraled down and down until I was little more than a gibbering mess.
Over the last few years I’ve slowly been winding my way back up the spiral, a slow long climb. Now, I’m undoubtedly doing better, but I’m not better. It’s important I remember that. I still have my limits, I’m just unsure about where they are. I want it to be fun trying to work them out and not an exercise in descending back to the panic and exhaustion. So much about my life is good, I want to focus on that, discover what I can do, rather than constantly what I can’t. It is good to have time to listen to the rain…
March 30th, 2005 at 9:13 pm
Hi Michael, I’m trying to recover from a downturn myself. Thanks for the reminder in the last two sentences.
March 30th, 2005 at 9:14 pm
Hi Michael, I’m trying to recover from a short downturn myself. Thanks for the reminder in the last two sentences.
March 30th, 2005 at 10:15 pm
The sound of the rain - my Gran and Grandpa lived in a house that backed up almost into the hill (this is a hill in North Wales we’re talking here!), the back entrance to the ground floor flat where they lived (uncle lived upstairs and great aunt above that, you had to cross a bridge to her flat) was through a tiny yard that you reached along a sort of open corridor between the hill and the house. I remember the sound of the rain pattering down onto that slate and stone lined yard. Lots of little plants sprouted between the stones, ferns and others. Our own back yard has similar music on a still day when it rains.
Rest up, take care of yourself. Do less rather than more would be my recommendation. Be kind to yourself.
All best wishes from Liverpool
March 30th, 2005 at 11:21 pm
Not only are you a kick-butt artist, but now I’m jealous of your shoes AND that awesome kettle. I’m in the kettle market myself, but they are pretty ho-hum here being in the land of coffee. I had a bit of a hiatus myself and now, finally, it has stopped raining and I’m back in studio. Yeah! Best wishes from SF.
March 31st, 2005 at 12:42 am
I think the hardest thing for anyone is to be kind to themselves. We all have limitations of one kind or another. If you concentrate on that you never see the good things - good things and good people that make getting up in the morning worthwhile. You should enjoy the rain. For me it’s watching the sun come up every morning. Maybe the day won’t be that great, maybe I’ll have to work late or just maybe this will be a better day then yesterday and it’s that possibility that makes my day.
March 31st, 2005 at 7:58 am
Hope the rain doesn’t last, and that you’ll soon be basking rays of sunshine [sorry, hasn’t rained much here in St. Ives for a while - sunny today already].
The way you wrote that…
“I want to focus on that, discover what I can do, rather than constantly what I can’t. It is good to have time to listen to the rain…”
…it sounds so poetic, and I’m a sucker for poetic. You manage to make listening to the rain sound so beautiful. My memories of living in Wales with M.E. aren’t so poetic, just dark. That’s why I’m where I am now, so hats off to you Michael [again], for showing us all how to be brave enough to tune in to the finer points in life. In Buddhism, they call it ‘living in the moment’.
I’m keeping a watchful eye on your new blog colour scheme - subtle, like your Simple shoes. I keep clicking around, thinking “there must be some purple links around here somewhere!”.
Simple is good Michael, keep it up. Perhaps you will soon be in the studio again, as focus often develops from moments of peace. I’m not very good at giving myself peace, I’m more a life’s to short kinda person.
You are a fine role model for peace and simplicity.
March 31st, 2005 at 8:01 am
Forgot to say…
Wish I could get paint over my shoes. I see so many Cornish artists wandering around proudly wearing paint-spattered jeans and shoes. I’m always so clean. Change my clothes to paint, wear no shoes - actually, come to think of it, I do get paint-spattered feet! All is not lost. Perhaps I could go to town barefoot to display my artiness!
Still, there’s something about paint-spattered shoes…
March 31st, 2005 at 9:28 am
Ohh Janey completely agree with you! I’ve had to scale back my activity in the past week and a half - the guilt in trying to explain to people that I cant be social!
My current struggle is around saying yes to things that give me joy when I contemplate doing them and no to things that smack of duty. So yes I want to go to my stitch & bitch group and no to a adaptation of ‘Anna Karenina’ at the theatre!
March 31st, 2005 at 4:10 pm
I resonate with this. A lot. For me, the hardest thing is the sudden downturn. Just when I feel that things are swinging along nicely, suddenly, even in the middle of the day sometimes, I will feel that familiar Energy Sap, the one that leads to the core and tells me to go to bed. Right. Now. Lie. Down. It feels heavy, leaden, adn palpable.
If I can listen to it and find a place to get horizontal, sometimes I can rest it away for a few hours. But even then, it is a fragile state and I must be ever aware of simple things like dehydration ( to which I am seriously sensitve…brain fog comes easily for me if I am not well hydrated) and being careful abour sugar consumption (for me, even a few spoonfuls over my limit for the day can result in a burning sensation in my throat and sore glands for a week), If I eat red pepperes I am doomed to joint pain.
I have to remember to stretch constantly to avoid spasms. When I am feeling really good, I sometimes forget. I am reminded toute de suite.
I empathize with your path, Michael. It is difficult to manage the muse of creativity when getting out of bed is the last thing on your mind.
Somedays all I want to do is breathe. Plain and simple. In and Out. Somedays it is all I can think of.
Manageable Units. That is the key! (I always wanted to name a rock band the Manageable Eunichs….cool, huh?)
April 2nd, 2005 at 6:50 am
How do you start to make the panic stop?