Denial

The other day I was reading a blog post written by the great writer Steven Pressfield- writes brilliant historical fiction. It was about the "all is lost" moment in films. Rather than me trying to explain what its all about it would be better to read the post. The long and the short of it is that point of realisation when a character knows he or she is beaten. That moment the reality of it all hits them. That moment where denial turns to inevitable acceptance.

I say inevitable but is it. Could someone continue to live in denial forever more? Could I? Am I in denial? Well it would seem so. Never thought of myself as being in denial and yet over these past 4 years writing on this blog I have spoke of my inability to accept. The opposite of accepting is denial. If you are not accepting you are in denial. Don't know what that never occurred to me before. It doesn't change anything really, or does it?

To be fair when talking of my inability in to accept it has been in relation to anxiety and panic symptoms. Inability to accept the state of irrational fear needed to break that cycle of fear. But on reading that post I see this is also the case in my life. I am in denial. Always have been always have been. I cannot accept who I am, who I have become. And this as much as anything is a big source of anxiety.

I should have realised this before. Doing CBT there is something called the downward arrow technique which is used to find root fears. Basically must anxious thoughts are surface level thoughts. You are in a shop or somewhere, you feel panic and you think: I must get out of here. Escape thought, not the root fear. And via a series of questions we get down to the root fear. This is nearly always fear of consequence. In this case it might be embarrassment. Why do you need to escape? Because I will collapse and shake and be incapacitated. Why would that be so bad (bearing in mind panic can do you no physical harm and must pass)? I would look like a fool, everyone would be looking. Embarrassment, humiliation. The root fear.

And when I took my thoughts and analysed them I found most of my root fears were based around the same thing- embarrassment. I have become so self conscious around others that it borders on paranoia. When I am out I am judging what others are thinking. When I feel panic I feel I must flee not because I will be safe but because no one will see me panicking at home. When I have visitors it is this fear of panicking in front of others that has me in panic with others. Lots of other scenarios with all the same root fear.

You see I have never in my life until this started considered myself weak and I shun this weak self. It disgusts me to be so weak. I like under the pressure of my own making trying to hide all these new vulnerabilities. I don't want anyone to see my fragility. I don't want to be that person. And so I am in denial. And I stay in denial. I see though now that until I learn to accept this is how I am now then I will stay stuck. In theory I see that but in practice changing 30 years of conditioning is not easy. Its almost impossible. It would be changing who 'I' still am despite how my body has changed. And it is also because of this that I go through periods of frustration running into brick walls until I am spent in a desperate attempt to drag this weak fragile shell up to speed with where my mind set is. But at some point I am going to have some common ground. If I cannot accept I cannot continue to live in denial and so must find amicable compromise to move forward.

The Jury

Lovely. Last Saturday it was. Went down the stairs to go for my walk. Saw the letter. Saw it was addressed to me. Saw it was from the court. And panicked.

Although it turned out I had been selected for jury service my initial reaction was: what have I done? I haven't done anything wrong but that was still my initial reaction, the reaction of an anxious mind which works overtime always. What could I have done? What possibly could the court want with me? Maybe some vindictive evil and twisted person had lied about me to the police. Maybe there was a hate campaign. Maybe it was a prank- once got called up for the army which turned out to be a prank by my aunt and uncle. Or maybe that was not a prank and now the Army were looking for me through the courts. Maybe it was that time I didn't pay poll tax and they have caught up with me. I had a limited company once which was wound up long ago but maybe money was owed or something. Maybe someone had said I was not actually with an anxiety disorder and was cheating the system. Maybe someone had been following me and showing I could walk far enough and they couldn't see anything wrong with me.

The usual paranoid protective thoughts. But as I said it was for jury service. That though was enough to give me a panic attack and I had to take that with me on my walk. I knew if I had not opened the letter it would still cause me too much anxiety while walking. Either way the walk was going to be difficult and it was.

When I got home I scanned for home. It seems if you are an MP or other such privileged person you can get out fairly easily but otherwise they want proof. Fair enough. Why do these things always happen at the weekend? At a time where my hands are tied. Would the doctor give me medical certificate? Would he even be there? Too many unanswered questions and try as I might I could not keep it from my mind over the weekend. As it turned out also Monday was a local holiday so an extra day of waiting as the medical centre was shut.

Anyway, turns out my GP was abroad on holiday as luck would have it but thankfully he was back on Wednesday. Not only that but the receptionists at the medical centre and he together were very understanding and helpful and I had my medical certificate that day which I posted the following. It is not a guarantee I will be exempt but I am hoping. Only time will tell.

That aside not much doing. I don't know if it was that and the walking I am doing but once again struggling with fatigue. I should also say at the start of the week my wife and I had a virus which definitely didn't help and has depleted my reserves further. The last three days have been a nightmare. I get up feeling groggy- like my body is exhausted and had some rest but not enough. Fine though. But an hour or two after walking I get a wave of fatigue crashing down on me which lasts the rest of the day. Its really hard to put up with and then has other problems like sore eyes, neck pain, head pain, etc. I have had it before and it does pass but just no fun when in that state.

Better days lie ahead I am sure. Its depressing when its July and its so grey and wet outside as it has been the last couple of months. And you feel fatigued all the time to the point that you can't even hold you concentration to do anything that may distract you. But as I said it will pass and better days surely ahead.

Seeking the water

It has taken forty years and to become agoraphobic to realise I want to a home by the sea. Maybe an affinity with water has always existed somewhere that I never felt so strong as I have these past five years or so. My uncle was a sailor and looking back through my family tree I see many at one with the sea. My grandfather was in the merchant navy and his grandfather was a stoker on the river Mersey, his grandfather an engineer on a steamer between the Mersey and the Clyde.

Somewhere in my blood at calling from the sea. But it definitely never felt that way previously. In fact I hated being on water. I remember feeling ill on channel crossings to France and Ireland. I remember being terrified during the night at the crashing seas and high waves as we made our way to Rotterdam. I remember how unsteady I felt just slowly gliding down the Rhine. Maybe just near it then not on it. Near enough of touch.

And that feeling of touch is one that has been with me the past few years in regards to water. Thinking back the last time I actually saw the seas was nearly seven years ago at Loch Lomond with my family as the anxiety was just starting. Since then I have been seeking water and only found it twice but as realistic as they were they were both man made. A small stream running through an African jungle bizarrely surround by grey decay of urban squalor a mile from my home. The other Strathclyde loch, pictured above, which used to be a village in by gone years and now is filled with water.

About the loch. Its about two years since I was last there even though its only a couple of miles from home. And I was there crouched by the water's edge desperate to do a Reggie Perrin sorta, well wade in at least with clothes intact. What brought this memory back was opening the local paper yesterday to find that a few weekends ago 70 people took part in a swimming contest there and over 50 of them were ill with norovirus. So probably just as well I did not go in. Water to be admired rather than ingested. 

Not sure why I am harping on about my love of water and missing it as a mass. You'd think I'd be sick of the sight of water by now. Nearly half way through July and stick the skies bucket down and the blue remains hidden behind the dark grey. Depressing stuff. I was thinking the other day about how the boy could have done with Crocs for the summer but truth is he needs Wellies.

Anyway I am mumbling on. Head just drifting in places I would rather me. Still working on the anxiety to some extent with some successes. Went into the shopping centre for the first time this year the other day on a whim. Today sat in a benched area for 5 minutes which doesn't sound a lot but is very good for me. Little things to build on and keep building on. A little confidence here and there. Taking control. Being wiser to see where control has been wrestled from and taking it back. Little things as I say but better times for it even if only in as equally small increments. I waffle.

Just to say I would like to see the sea. I would like to be able to sit without running away and just sit somewhere on a rock watching the sea waves crash, hearing them crash. And maybe that is my anxiety finding a route into my thoughts. The surroundings are so drab around here. Maybe I need that place to find that peace by the sea.

At the mercy of something

Fatigue is always a problem. For some reason though these last two days even though I have been getting more sleep I am extremely agitated with fatigue. Its not the same as tiredness. You do not deflate, you buzz. You feel life drain out of you. Its like the life blood has turned to a thick black tar.

And I wonder why, sitting here in this state after my longest walk this week. Why was it a few weeks ago when I was getting less sleep, had more anxiety and was walking double the distance I am now did I feel OK and yet now I feel like I have ran all day long? Why is it that some times I am fairly OK walking but 10-30 minute after I get home and relax the fatigue crashing in like a wave and the body feels like it is shutting down? Why does it come out the blue like the last two mornings when I have woken up fine and without doing anything around 2 hours later bang! And that is what its like. Its like someone has just set off the loudest fire cracker behind you without you knowing. Its like touching an electrified fence. Its a sudden shock to the system. Why?

I am beginning to wonder if I will ever know. In truth I remember well in 2003 fatigue suddenly hitting me one day and for ever more these 9 years since. I remember well going back and forth to the doctors for tests without explanation. And I remember then in the beginning there was no anxiety. That came later. And then later still agoraphobia which itself was another bang out the blue. One day absent and the next day here to stay forever more.

What I have been trying to do of late is get to the root fear. Trying to uncover what lies beneath all this generating the anxiety. I mean lets face it its fatigue, shrug the shoulders. It passes. Why not just lie down and let it pass? Indeed, why not? Why can I not do that? The only reason I could think of is that as a father of young children I cannot do that. My wife has enough of a burden without me going for long spells to lie down in the bedroom and leaving her to it. Besides that she works too, what then? Do I sleep and leave the children to it?

Today though I see clearly. Right now in this moment I see clearly. Maybe for the first time or at least the first time I have set my attention on it. I see the root fear. It comes in images. Lots of colourful and frightening, to me, images. And from this I understand in this moment the truth but know in a short space of time I will lose hold of it because 9 years of doubt is a hard habit to break. As I said though right now in this moment I see the truth. The truth is it is not the fatigue which is the problem. It is the fear which is the problem. Fear without fatigue is a problem. Fatigue without fear is not a problem. Sorry no, that sounds like I am belittling fatigue. What I am trying to say is that I am trying to find some way to tackle the fatigue while ignoring the fear but in reality I have to tackle the fear before I can tackle the fatigue. Furthermore the fatigue may be, and most likely is, a product of the fear. The constant fear. The constant anxiety. Which is why I am trying to uncover the root fears hidden behind my behavioural patterns so I can work on them.

So this fear, what is it? Quite simple it is the same as all the root fears I have uncovered. It is a fear of consequence. The anxious mind races off down dark corridors and races back with all the gore of what may be happening, all the worst case scenarios. Always fear of consequence. Not fear of how the body actually is. Not fear of the fatigue. But fear of where the fatigue and the feelings could lead to. In this case its also the usual suspect: fear of losing control.

In the past half hour sitting here I have tried to sit calmly and loosely and just look deep within at the fatigue and find the root of the fear, and therefore the anxiety. And here we have the root fear exposing itself. The root fear with fatigue. Ending in a state where I am incapacitated. Where I cannot move. Visions run through my mind. Faces of concern. Medics arriving wanting to take me out of my agoraphobic bubble. Everything that is my sole right taken from my hands and into the hands of others who think they know better. Loss of control.

All in the mind. Lots and lots of people experience the same symptoms but don't fear them, not to the extent of having an anxiety problem with them. The therapist assures me they are symptoms of the anxiety. Worry is tiring. Constant anxiety is fatiguing. That is what I am told. That is also what I read in the Claire Weekes books. So why should I disagree?

And where is the proof? Well maybe its in another question. I asked all those questions about fatigue coming out the blue, taking time to kick in after walks and the like. One other mystery and I did not ask the question and this was the one the therapist put to me: have you ever felt the fatigue bad and/or prolonged and then all of a sudden it just lifts even if it returns again shortly after? Yes, I replied. Many times. So strange. Could spend all day long like an agitated rag doll and then suddenly its gone and sometimes gone for a good time after. I have noticed on occasions being fatigue to the point where I don't even want to sit up yet when visitors arrive I sit up and throughout the visit I am not aware of any fatigue but only too aware of it after they go. Proof that it is mental rather than physical? In my case anyway I tend to agree- in this moment.

So I am not at the mercy of something. I am creator of my own fear leading to my own fatigue leading to fear and so on. Generator of the cycle. A draining cycle. Not at the mercy of anything. Just an irony that I have not been in control of a state I can control and the base fear is the loss of control. Haha! Yes, indeed. So I need to take control. Leave the fatigue alone. Stop stirring it. Break the cycle at source and over time it will be OK. That is the theory anyway.