Family

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Boiling frog syndrome… Yup, I got hot (or why I need to rehab myself).

It is true – it IS a psychological syndrome!  who knew!  I shouldn’t be cynical – I am still a psychologist.

The story of how the poor amphibian was enjoying its tepid bath and stayed so long it didn’t notice the water getting hotter and hotter until it was boiling alive, is also termed a ‘parable’ by Wiki wonderland.   If the frog was thrown into the boiling water it would jump out.

This syndrome or parable came to my mind when I realised that I was having health and well-being issues again.  I didn’t see how bad it had become till I was struggling enough to call a halt and shout help so I could ‘rehab’ my self and my life.

It was just easier for me to just keep going enough to manage the stresses and strains of impending relocation,  possible retirement, spouse’s health issues, adult children needing support, poorly grandchildren.  I had already stepped down from one on one counselling or coaching so at least in that I had identified I wasn’t functioning at the level I had been.

Changing seasons in the UK mean changing the type of clothes you wear. The cottons and linens get put away or kept somewhere on hand in case of a winter sun getaway. Sandals make way for boots and heavy shoes.  It was the fitted winter clothes that were far too tight around the middle that alerted me to exactly how much my girth had increased.

Most of us know these days that a real ‘baddie’ is fat round your middle.  Even when I was thinner I didn’t have much of a waist but when even jeggings get hard work to put on… well….

I know the theory of healthy living.  I watch documentaries, have studied the biological basis of psychology, human physiology.  I have been a returner to a certain weight watching program, counting whatever points they say I should.  The latter has changed over the years as updated research on weight loss suggests different balances for proteins, fats and sugars can assist in losing the pounds.

It is the stress and pressure that sends me into the mindset of ‘survival at all costs mode never mind the flippin’ points and I havent got time to go to the loo let alone exercise’. Just bring on the tea and cake – now!  I need to keep going…

It is generally agreed that some stress is good.  I have known someone get ill from a kind of boredom sickness.  No motivation and not enough to interest them in life.  I know that we get good input from being active and gaining achievements.  I am also aware that that needs to be balanced with feeling connected, being a part of something and giving yourself comfort and care.

This balance is very well described by Paul Gilbert, who wrote The Compassionate Mind and Compassion Focussed Therapy.   Likewise, ‘moderation in all things’ is one of those quotes where “I hear what you are saying” but struggle to implement the concept in my life.

I am just not designed that way.  I have a neurodiverse profile, a quick mind, I see things in insights, am better at leaping forwards towards a perceived outcome than following a process.  I take it up with God on a regular basis: “You made me this way!”   He smiles back and almost winks, “Yes, but I didn’t design the lifestyle you have apparently chosen.”

Did I choose the way I have been living, or, like my poor friend the frog, did I just let it get hotter and hotter till it was scalding me?

In moving house, as well as all my books and papers, I can see that I have brought my “stressed lifestyle” choices with me.

I have more things to sort out post move, but not things or stuff.  Rather, what choices and habits do I keep and what do I dump?  What needs a fresh approach, a change of mindset?

These questions are all part of the ‘rehab’ process… and I need to remember it is a PROCESS.  I cannot leap to the end but will walk the path step by step, seeking to enjoy each one.

Enjoy your path and journey!  See you later …

 

 

 

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Moving house… Repotting… New paths

Some years ago, a prophet type person spoke about us being ‘repotted’ when we relocated.   I have a camellia in a pot that needs to be repotted and I feel sorry for he poor thing as I have left it too long.  The roots are hugging the pot so tight it is going to really hurt when they are separated.   Will it be like that for me?

I took this photo below over a year ago when I was walking in the lanes near to Beauty From Ashes, a Christian Retreat run by a delightful lady called Jennifer Rees Larcombe.  I hadn’t walked this way before, it was unfamiliar – a new path.  I had a sense of adventure looking at flowers,  hedges, trees, hearing birdsong and, on this day, feeling the sun warming me up.

an unfamiliar path to walk

I haven’t yet translated that sense of adventure to getting to our new home.  It has been hassles for me – organisation, planning what to do and when,  waiting on other people …  I admit I am not at my best in the time before a large enterprise.  I am fine when the thing is upon me and I can roll my sleeves up and do the stuff!

The to-ing and fro-ing of solicitors letters and searches and documents to be signed and witnessed has frozen my brain today.  I have a list of thing I need to do but am taking time out from what seems like ‘moving the deckchairs on the Titanic’ – I do stuff but nothing much seems to make any difference!

Sitting on my bed, writing this, the sun streaming through the window, I get that sense of excitement despite ‘all this to do’ going on in my brain.  New memories to make, a house to be creatively designed and mounded into OUR home,  more people to welcome, new paths to walk – this time close to the sea.

There may be some shifting of my roots as we relocate and the furniture and bits and pieces that make up our lives are removed and transported.   At least I don’t have to worry about how everything will fit into the new place which is quite spatio us.

As our son cheekily said,

“Well you know, Mum, you don’t need to worry: you aren’t downsizing so         you can take all your crap with  you!”

I trust he means chattels and furnishings rather than my anxieties and holdings on to things…  Thanks dear Son for lightening the mood 😉

 

 

 

A place of serenity, cleansing and escape.

A place of serenity and escape.

A South Coast Beach ( taken by Steve Jenkins): we all need a place to go to ‘be’, to think, to explore our inner world. Living near one of these beaches 15 years ago, the beach was that place for me and for our children. They still come down here from wherever they are living now and recall those times of hanging with friends, chilling, crying, escaping from being ‘grounded’.

All my senses loved the place: the salty smell, the sounds of lapping waves and seagulls calling on a calm day or the crashing of rollers at high tide on a stormy night, could all match my mood and draw me inside myself.

Such a vivid place could also draw out the emotions I didn’t realise were lurking beneath my surface and, as the seaweed and rubbish werer left visible after the storms and tides, so were my deep hurts, confusions and pains.

The cleansing and visibility of what needed to be revealed, no longer stored up clogging my emotions and thinking, would leave a peace, freshness and joy.

It is probably time for me to take a trip there again or to find another such place…

Maybe it is ALWAYS time?

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Another sort of bubbling…

Okay, so the viral thingy has upset my stomach too.  Just as I was looking at the IBS network pages (http://www.theibsnetwork.org/) for helpful tips, a phone call about a sick grandbaby in hospital puts my gripes into perspective.

Babies are so helpless. I find I have easily managed space in my heart and mind for these new additions to the family as well as my adult children and their partners.  I remember my parenting years and although ageing is not for sissies (Betty Davis?) neither is being a parent.

Facebook alert for friends to pray…

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Serendipity and sensitivity.

I managed to get my contact lens stuffed up into my eyeball last night – uurgh! (end of day tired and rubbed my eyes; I know, but I forgot I was wearing lenses and not my glasses through which I see much better these days of juggling short-sightedness with my aged need for reading glasses) I hoped it would clear this morning but, no, still lodged somewhere.  I worried it had got into my brain or nose because I nearly passed out when getting dressed, felt rather hot and sick and the nose is still running three weeks after i caught my baby grandson’s cold.

A call to several opticians and I got an appointment at Horsham 10.30 am.  Loads of time…  so I got involved in something and then “Its 10 o’clock!” came from Brian’s office.  Oh oh…I had to drive .. quite fast… to get to my appointment on time.  Then I had to wait.  so my blood pressure had gone up for nothing? Well, no. Serendipitously I found a useful article for my daughter whilst waiting:  how to deal with school age tantrums.  What do you do when your six year old is behaving like his two year old sister (she’s watching angelically of course: “me? behave like that?  of course not.”  So, it happens beyond two and before the teenage tantrum stage…  normal.  oh good.  So, my dear, its NOT your parenting or the fact you are a working mother (guilt ridden as they all are in my experience): it happens.

The optician (very kind young lady – nice outfit) successfuly managed to get the wandering lens out with the help of some dye to make it visible and a damp cotton bud.  Phew… The lens out, I wondered why I still felt giddy, hot and rather unwell.  As I was in town, I did a few errands – birthday presents and cards for next set of grandchildren to need remembering, bits and pieces in the chemists which I can’t get in the tiny towns locally…

Ok, still hot, head pounding and giddy.  Chemist.  Pharmacist.  They are good if you get a relatively un-busy one. Great, she was available and smiling:  could she help?  Yes please.  Just how long does a cold and catarrh last? “I think it’s a viral thing. plenty of liquid, rest, paracetamol and wait for it to pass.”  Great.

Son phones, upset because someone ‘had a go at him’.  He assures me he knows he shouldn’t take it so personally.  Dyslexia and dyspraxia make it hard to understand complex matters over the telephone.  ADHD makes it hard not to want a current stressful situation TO BE OVER NOW!  Hard to explain to others who are on the receiving end of your “please explain that again? can you write it down for me? Sorry but can you get back to me?” (twice asked on text and phone). He is going to switch phone off and go home to missus and baby and not think about anything more tonight.

Good idea.  I think I’ll do the same…  Switch brain off…

Yes, I will follow my prescription: bath, paracetemol, rest with a non-study book, listen to some good meditative music, get significant other to do dinner and pour me a glass of chilled white wine.

What do you mean, ‘the pharmacist didn’t mention the last two on that list’?  Well, I’m a doctor and I’ve just prescribed them for myself.