Mindfulness

I’ve been having a rough rough go lately. My body is just exhausted from the chemical shitstorm that it’s been through, and I’m having a tough time processing it all emotionally. I went to see a counsellor today at the cancer agency and she said that high achievers like me usually hit a wall right about now. I have rocked this so far, and now that I’m facing the end of my official treatment period, it makes complete sense that I would have a melt down.

I’ve been reminded a lot of the days after having Brendan, when I had severe post partem depression. As well, when I had a nervous breakdown after he went to kindergarten. Transitions, ends of eras, they seem to hit me hard. Add my perfectionist tendencies and my over achieving soul to the hormonal upheaval and chemotherapy symptoms – it’s no wonder that I’m having a rough go.

One of the things she suggested was to start to actively practice mindfulness. As you can well imagine, I don’t do very well in a meditation setting. My brain goes way too fast for that. I also don’t do very well with relaxation exercises. I’m the one in the back that will get the giggles and distract the rest of the class. But she mentioned that mindfulness is often just finding the zone – like when you’re running and tune everything else out. Listening to music with your eyes closed and focussing on the various instruments. Painting a mandala. Focussing on one sense at a time. That space in time when you can zone out the rest of the world and get rest for your soul in the process.

I can think of many times in my life when I found a groove like that. Organizing a hockey tournament and the schedule works out perfectly the first time. Writing an article and the thought process is so clear and full that it requires no editing. Finding all the right deals on all the right items on an accelerated timeline for a kitchen reno. Those are the times in your life when you feel charmed. I have had many moments like that.

The thing is when I think of my headspace during those times, it wasn’t as messy as it is now. I felt sure of myself and I had support from all the right people in my life. My self worth was strong. I don’t have those things right now. I feel like I’m floundering in a sea of confusion and fear. I doubt myself and the people around me. I have days when I don’t even want to get out of bed, because it’s a safe place. But the funny thing is, my brain is not a safe place. So staying in bed is actually worse for me that anything else, because the self loathing and doubt will push me farther into the abyss. Depression is a dangerous dark place.

My counsellor suggested that the hormone blocker Tamoxifen that I’m on has depression as a very common side effect. Well that’s fantastic. Of course they could prescribe antidepressants to go with, but I have a strong aversion to the idea of treating the symptoms of one drug with another, especially since I’ve been there done that and really don’t want to go back. But the fear of the darkness is real. I think I’m more afraid of being depressed than I am actually depressed. See? Messy.

So I’m spending time just savouring moments. Watching herons down at Witty’s Lagoon. Listening to Tallie purr on my lap. Tasting lemonade. Life is full of big and little joys – I just have to pay attention more.

I’m taking time to reevaluate every single thing in my life. My house is not giving me joy, so it may be time to head to Benjamin Moore. If the food I’m putting in my mouth is not giving me joy, I just won’t eat it. I’m going to try and declutter my numerous junk drawers. Because I just can’t stand not being able to find a pen around here.

I’ve started painting. Like actual pictures. From someone who has never been particularly artistic, this is a whole new world for me. But I love colour, and I love light, and it’s a way for me to work through my perfectionism. I have all the time in the world, so I’m only limited by my art supplies. I have learned I’m really good at backgrounds. There’s something about just throwing paint on a canvas and smearing it all into some sort of cohesive backdrop that satisfies me. It’s like I have set the stage for a story – I just need to figure out the plot.

Some of the words I’ve been using lately when asked how I’m doing – Messy. Broken. Lost. My faith is weak, my head is all over the place and my heart hurts. So today’s blogpost doesn’t really have a point or a story to it. But it’s good to get some of it out of my head and into words.

Tomorrow I will try for a heron.