Priory

As I reach out further and for longer I am finding instances where I panic occurring less and less which is obviously a good sign as long as I am not avoiding things irrationally. Another indication that I have turned a corner is the lack of internal questioning every time I go somewhere new or do something different. It can still happen but less so. Probably though the biggest sign is that mostly when the questioning does start I am more inclined to accept than decline. I know the bad patterns which stem from reluctance and avoidance and its therefore important that I try not to shy away if I can help it.

There are times though when it does feel a bit overwhelming and I decided its better not to. In these times though I feel consumed by my own disappointment and mostly return to it with a plan of action at some point. The ferry crossing this year to Millport for example was something I declined at the first time of asking. Sometimes I just need to get my head clear and build my confidence first. I guess I need a backplan at the very least which is why anything where I cannot get out of quickly soon gives rise to panic and reluctance.

And so it was I found myself in this position earlier in the month. Of late I have been pushing myself out longer when going out for my daily walk and trying to find new places to go to or a variation on old haunts. One of these places was the ruins of an old priory which are believed to be around 700 years old. The priory sat on the edge of the River Clyde directly opposite Bothwell Castle- local legend suggests there is a hidden tunnel linking the two. I actually mentioned this only briefly 2 and a half years ago when I had only heard of the ruins without knowing where they were exactly or in what state they were in. Since then I had actually made it down there 4 or 5 times. I actually thought I had wrote about it here but I cannot find a reference to it. Too much media I suppose. I must have posted that on Twitter (long since abandoned), Facebook, Instagram or something else- I lose track. Anyway I'd been down a few times but there is not a lot left to see as illustrated above. That didn't stop me going back down though on my way to somewhere else. I should say I have seen old photos of the priory from over 100 years ago when there was a structure there and it stood out on its own. Today the little ruins that are left have been swallowed by the woodland in densely packed trees and branches making it a less than inviting place to go- more than once.

So I returned down there again on my way to somewhere else for no other reason than the fact I was passing something ancient that I don't see often and so should have a look. It was only a brief look and no need to get the camera out so I just stood for a minute staring at this old ruin of a wall when I was aware of movement in the corner of my eye. It was a guy with a bike shuffling his way down leafy slope. He had a big grin on his face: have you seen the carvings? I hadn't. I had in fact forgotten all about them. I remember when I first read about the mysterious ancient religious carvings at the old priory it immediately caught my attention. The wonder though waned slightly when I later discovered they were not that magical at all and not ancient but instead the work of a local man in the 1950s. Still though worth a look. Although I knew they were down there I had never found them and I had also read the path to them was a little dangerous. It therefore faded from my mind until this man appeared with a bike asking me about them.

What I thought was a plea was actually an invite. This lovely enthusiastic man started to tell me how he liked to cycle places and had by chance found out about these carvings on the Internet so had gone to look for them. It had taken him a number of times visiting the area to firstly find the priory and then another few visits more to finally find the carvings. Did I want to see them? It would be worth it, he said. Well of course I did so I followed him. The path went steeply down and I was struggling with my footing. He was too. I reckon he was in his 60s but with the energy and drive of someone a third of his age. Where a slip made me pause he gathered more momentum as he hopped and slid and jumped from side to side up and over. At the bottom of the slope I was starting to feel out of my comfort zone. I could feel panic rising. At this point he stopped and pointed to where we had to go down further, then across and then climb up a slope. Panic on the rise and with it my breathing starting to feel more shallow. This is where doubt occurs. This is where the internal questions increase and the volume of them increases to the point that it can get too loud to continue. As he spoke I found I was looking for a way out. I lied. I had to go as my wife was waiting for me. He looked disappointed that his enthusiasm and wish to show me something worthwhile had been cut short too early. I also could not risk a fall as I'd already fallen that day and dirtied my clothes. That part was not a lie. That morning after taking the kids to school I came home through the woods and saw deer and as I tried to take a photo of them I slipped down some wooden stairs into mud. I felt bad about lying to this guy who was doing me a good turn. Even now I wish I had been honest and just explained the situation. At the time though I just wanted a way out and not to face the panic. So I left and that was that.

The disappointment was never going to leave me alone and that was at least one good thing. I had thanked the guy for showing me the way so I had a mental map at least. That and the desire to rid myself of my own self loathing ensured that it was days rather than weeks before I returned and found the carvings. It wasn't easy. I am not just saying that from an anxiety view point but its something a lot of people would find difficult and more so alone. Panic did rise and finally did fall but its not something I will be repeating in a hurry. I think what got me through was knowing that the man who carved them beautiful works of art (stations of the cross) did this climb every day. I don't know the whole story but do know he distanced himself from the work if anyone passed my while he worked. It must have been a labour of love for him. And because of where they are situated it is probably why they are in such good condition today. Long may that remain the case. For me it was another lesson. Its still early days. The thing I must always remember though is not to beat myself up if I cannot do something first time and instead use that disappointment to wisely plan a new attempt. It felt worthwhile. Now to find something else to climb.