My Mental Health Story Part 8 - Such Is Life!
When my anxiety was at its worst, back in 2013/14, to try to relax, I needed to be home. My sanctuary, my safe place where no one could get to me, where I was alone with my thoughts and alone with me! Quite often sitting in the back garden on my swing seat, chilling and enjoying the peace and quiet, usually at the end of the day, sometimes with a cold beer. But where the big bad world couldn’t get to me!
Quite a contrast to the course I had been on, where distractions were advised. Keep your mind busy, and you won’t think of anything else, certainly not your condition, and understandable too, but then there’s old me. Why do what I’m told? Why not just do what I feel comfortable doing? And so there I was in my back garden with nothing but clouds and sunshine and, of course, occasionally my beer!
So why am I writing this story? Because when I was away from home, I often wanted to just be back home, nowhere else, back in my sanctuary, back in my safe place, and let me give you a couple of examples. But before I go on, let me tell you that pre accident we went abroad quite often, and it never, ever bothered me!
1. My accident was on the 6th of January, 2013. On the 7th of February, my first real memory after the accident, my wife and I were sitting in Glasgow Airport, waiting to board a flight to Iceland for a long weekend. My lovely wife’s 50th birthday present for me. I admit she had a two-week holiday in Sri Lanka, via Dubai for hers, and I had a long weekend in Iceland, but what’s 13 days between friends? But the biggest difference is that I didn’t want to go! I had this horrible fear of going away from home, my safe place. Not flying, it’s never bothered me being at 37,000 feet, with very little hope of survival if something goes wrong. In the end I forced myself on the plane, and we went, and a great time was had by both. A country I would recommend to anyone. One detailed memory is coming home on my birthday and leaving through passport control in Iceland, a lovely-looking female customs officer giving me back my passport and saying ‘happy birthday’ as she had been doing her job, and she had noticed my date of birth!
2. During my bad days, we had been invited to a party for the wife of one of my wife’s directors. It was in a small village in Lincolnshire, and now looking back, we can’t even remember the name of that village! But we stopped in a B&B in another village, some 6/7 miles away. We couldn’t get a taxi, so we decided to drive to the party and leave our car at the party house, as we had been able to book a taxi home at around midnight, which subsequently arrived and took us back to our B&B, after a very good night too! The problem was the next morning when I awoke, and desperately wanting to go home, but there were no taxis available to get us back to the party house to get our car. I just went downhill faster and faster, feeling desperate to get our car and get home to my garden. But there I was some 100 miles away with no way to get there. We went for breakfast in the B&B, and there I was, sitting with a full English meal in front of me, and all I ate was a half piece of toast! That in itself has never been known. And here is the thing: in all my thirteen years of experiencing different levels of anxiety and living with me. This was the only time my wife has lost her temper with me. Me sitting in the restaurant getting all worked up, she told me to go back to the room and leave her alone, which I did, and I just lay on the bed feeling sorry for myself. In the end, friends came and picked us up; we got to our car, and off we went on the return journey. No sooner had we started off on the road back to Shropshire, and no sooner was I feeling better, simply because I was going home – sweet home! And I somehow remember sitting in our conservatory about 3pm and being given a magnum-style ice lolly to eat, and that is all I had eaten all day since that half piece of toast, but who cared, as long as I was home and safe – who needed food? The irony of all this was that if you had read my post about the residential course I went on sometime later, one of the guys present came from this same village. It’s a small world for sure! And being a small village and everyone knowing each other, we believe he had actually been to the same party!
3. In the April after the accident, we went to Fuerteventura with friends to their holiday home for a week. And guess what, no sooner had I got there than I wanted to go home. So why did I go in the first place? Because at this stage of my condition, I didn’t know any different, and going abroad was normal for us; I just assumed everything was still just that - normal, and I knew no different. Iceland didn’t teach me anything because I assumed it was a one-off, and life went on, but it didn’t. The worst part was the day after we got to Fuerteventura; I received an email from the lottery saying I had won a prize and to log into my account to see what I had won. Of course, you can’t log in to your lottery account whilst you are abroad, and so I had to wait six days to find out what we had won. I can assure you that the wait is best described as frustrating. It’s worse when you get home to find you have won £3.56 (or similar.) But again, as I was abroad and wanted to get home, something wasn’t right, but remember my back garden and my safe place – my house and my home!
4. So here I am in France, having travelled some 1,500 miles or so from my home, and how do I feel? Well, just fine, thanks. And why? Because this is my home even if it is my home on wheels. Some say it is because of time, and time heals, but it doesn't always, I can assure you. This is simply because I could lock the door in my actual house; I can call it mine, and I am left alone from the big bad world. I can sit in my motorhome and lock the door; sure, there is no back garden, but it doesn’t matter; I’m safe in my home on wheels. Some three years ago we had decided to go on holiday with our friends. Ten days travelling around the south of the USA. Graceland, steamboats on the Mississippi, Jack Daniels brewery and much, much more, the holiday of a lifetime. Flying up from Jacksonville to Miami to pick up a cruise ship for a seven-day cruise around the Bahamas and fly home. Meanwhile, my wife and I booked a short 5-day trip to Italy, and guess what? We cancelled both trips as I just couldn’t relax, and I just didn’t want to go. I did want to go, but I didn’t want to be away from home! My safe space!
5. Okay, now get this because I don’t. In 2019 it was my good lady’s 60th, so we decided that we should go to the Gambia, where we married and where we had been on 4/5 occasions. We went to Malta, where we had a timeshare for ten years and had spent many a great week away, and we cruised the Norwegian fjords for a week, not bad for an old git. But guess what? Why was it on three trips and three weeks of holidays and being away from home, I did not have one minute's anxiety with all the problems I have had being away from home? I don’t get it, and I never will? Anxiety is a strange thing, as are other mental health issues. I can answer a lot of questions on this subject, but not that one!
But here I am in France, having fun away from home and feeling good too, so if an expert can explain that to me, I will be happy to listen to you because I have no idea. Anxious being away from home and being away from home but not being anxious. Can someone help me, please?
Again, this is just an insight into someone who has lived with and dealt with anxiety and how the mind can work, because there have been many times when I simply don’t understand it. Residential course, thirteen years’ experience, and a qualified mental health first aider. Sorry but there are times when I just have to shrug my shoulders and say, ‘oh well, such is life.’
Thanks for reading
DJ
