I had today planned out.
Wake up, meditate, get into work early, accomplish X, Y and Z, blog before the gym, train at the gym, do food shopping, make a new recipe for dinner, stuff my face, relax in my comfy clothes and feel like the baddest bitch in Perth WA.
Guess what? I did 3 of those things and X, Y and Z were nowhere to be seen. I don’t think I even reached A in the alphabet.
Anxiety is a pain in my arse. In any one given day I can have up to a billion thoughts bouncing around in my brain.
“Was I polite enough to that rude customer on the phone?”
“Will they call my boss and ask him to fire me?”
“Will the Australian Government deport me?”
“Did I slack off at training because i’m tired or was I being lazy?”
“Could I have eaten more vegetables with that meal?”
“Is it ok to have bread twice in one day?”
“Can people see my psoriasis if my hair is in a bun?”
“Is my blog good enough?”
“Should I make Tom a packed lunch every day?”
“Why did I chew that nail?”
“Why hasn’t she text back?”
OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD.
Reading this just makes me want to slap myself in the face with a wet trout. I mean it’s ridiculous isn’t it?
You know I actually wound myself up before writing this blog post.
Emma you can’t write off schedule, you’ve got to do Week 2’s update about your Wellness VS Balance project. Jesus woman don’t do something different to what you’d planned to, you might grow a second head and beard as punishment because you altered your routine ever so slightly. Then children will point and laugh at your beard and they’ll shout “There goes Emma, the woman who wrote a different blog post to what she was supposed to that time. She never married and has lots of cats. One of them only has 3 legs. And is ginger”.
Beard growth is doubtful. But that’s what anxiety makes me feel like.
Mental health is such a taboo subject that I didn’t even put a name to it until I moved out to Perth. It was only after a conversation with a close friend who was spending time in therapy that made me realise exactly what this was. Up until then I just assumed I was a bit weird.
And so i’ve made a promise to myself to never be ashamed about it and talk openly. It’s one of the catalysts that got me into this whole healthy lifestyle in the first place. A bit of this and a bit of that keeps me ticking over nicely and allows for a little freedom too because sometimes you just need to eat that cheese cake with your hands in your boyfriends sweat pants. And I emphasise the word need!
Perhaps the recent overhaul to my regime has triggered today’s melt down. I take refuge in my routine and have previously ploughed through daily workouts or taken comfort in weekend chocolate indulgences in order to sooth any anxiety bubbling under the surface. For the past two weeks i’ve dialled down the full on exercise and spent time simply “being”; an act easier said than done when you have the mind of a toddler on cocaine at Disneyland. And now instead of shoving my head into a tower of profiteroles I put pen to paper in an attempt to throw my thoughts into a journal in the hope that i’ll move on once it’s done.
Sometimes it’s worked, sometimes it hasn’t.
Like with anything in life i’ll tackle it straight on. Tonight i’ll have my little whine about it, confide in those closest to me and then probably eat one of the potatoes I cooked earlier. With a little salt and organic butter. Because that is what I do well. Get shit done and eat.
I’m thinking a morning routine would work well. Set the alarm at the same time each day regardless of whether I have work or not, meditate, eat breakfast, head into work a little earlier and miss the traffic. Can’t hurt to try it right?
I refuse to let my feelings be who I am and when you break it down, that’s all anxiety really is; thoughts crippling you when all they are is dust.
To put it simply, you can’t eat a thought so uh, it’s not real. Ice cream is real. So are the warm brownie pieces that go on top of it.
FFS now I just want a brownie…