I assume other people get this, a twisting heaviness in the pit of my stomach. (Or rather, where I imagine my stomach to be – it’s actually somewhat lower in my abdomen. Pah, details.) I’ve been getting it a lot lately. I associate it with stress and worry about things. Anything really – a sense of dread that I apply to everything in the future, even those things I think I’m looking forwards to. I’m getting it a lot before going to bed. Do I fear my dreams? They’ve certainly been quite strange of late, though not especially awful. Normally I try to soak it in alcohol because that’s an effective distraction, but tonight (apart from the drinks I’ve already had) I’m going to attempt a cup of soup. It really doesn’t have the same ring to it as a glass of whiskey.
I know there are a group of issues related to counselling that have me worrying: I’ve written a letter to my Mum, explaining what happened and why I’m in counselling at the moment. I haven’t posted it yet. I should. I want to. I know there is no good time for her, that there has only been now for me. I’m also kind of afraid of coming to the end of counselling – which is what I think I’m running up towards. I haven’t ever perceived the future as a thing I can be involved with. I tend to let it happen. It’s definitely worrying me, though i find it hard to narrow down why. I’ve had a couple of weeks now where I’ve been rebounding sharply between feeling free and empty and feeling empty and dark. I don’t understand what the triggers are that get me running up and down that ladder. I don’t like it though.
I find this internal tension very difficult to regulate. I try the deep breathing and holding and releasing my breath. It doesn’t seem to do anything. Eventually I’ll fall asleep, although the period between lying down in bed and going to sleep can be filled with this internal grinding. Maybe it’s the conflict between my mental processes and my emotional ones. I can figure stuff out and be clear in my head without having grasped it at a deeper level. Maybe I’m just catching up.
I have counselling again tomorrow, and I’m nervous about that too. I think, perhaps because I’ve gone through all my diaries and letters, that I feel there should be nothing left. I’m a literal, evidence based sort of person and I’m aware that I assume that having decided a thing, then it ought to be so. We deceive ourselves well. The fact is that I haven’t yet sent this letter to my Mum, which means I can’t open up about all this crap. And today I was stabbed in the mind by memories once more – something that I don’t think has happened for a few weeks. It’s somewhat upsetting.
Maybe I’m just confused. I’ve already admitted that this is a fragile vulnerable time. Pressures at work and in some subsets of my real life have seemed far more significant and stressful than they really ought to be. It’s possible that this is all just being inflated. And I’m more aware at the moment, since I’m getting more sleep. Perversely that does appear to make things worse! I’m slower, duller – ah now I’m exaggerating too. I never climb as well when I’ve slept well. Essentially, something’s bothering me and I can’t really figure out what. Maybe that’s what tomorrow will bring.
Mental Health Track 034
I’ve rarely felt so grateful for scraping seven hours sleep out of this gritty meat husk and into the deep dark pool of unconsciousness. They do say we should reflect