(And by limbo I mean mental purgatory.)When you're forced to accept a grey area for a while, which usually drives control freaks like me insane. It's the only thing I can do right now, I owe it to myself. But if there's one thing I've learnt, it's that I'm way stronger than ever I imagined myself to be.
Jesus, seriously. We think we can only handle so much, but we're capable of handling and enduring way more than we believe. “If one more bad thing happens, I'm going to crack.” Yes, you might crack - and it might be the simple thing of finding the neighbours cat fornicating on your bed – but usually you don't.
'Tis true that experience, adversity and time really do make you strong as steel. As does age. And for that, I'm going to lean over and give myself a hearty pat on the shoulder.
There.
When the world is at its most confusing, most volatile, it still fucking rotates. If only during times of severe mental duress we can just go, “Stop. Everybody just fucking freeze, I need time to have a panic attack out of the real world. Can the population of the world just wait for me to pull myself together please, have some fucking consideration.”
That's the clincher. If only we could freeze raindrops, running people, important functions, and deadlines, just so that we have a moment to think and be sad. But people are still doing stuff. Like bartering yaks in Yemen and talking in West Ront accents in Southfields, UK.
While I lie in a foetal position at the bottom of my bed wiping away tears.
Right, so granted I am not God, I don't have his number on speed dial, and well, we're merely far distant acquaintances. In fact God and I stand at a disrespectful distance from each other, and don't toy with the other's lives. (Disclaimer: Well he toys with mine on occasion – like now – because I believe he finds it amusing.)
So. All I can do is remain functional as best as I can. And that's the surprising part: I am managing to do this. My work is thriving in fact. I just reworked, rewrote and submitted one of the final drafts of my entire book, while at my day job, we have new projects we are embarking on that I am throwing myself into with gusto.
What certainly helps during excruciatingly testy times is to:
Look at the bigger picture
This too shall pass. Nothing stays the same. It's a month or two out of my life, which on general terms, is not terrible. Things oscillate from good to bad all the time. Just three months ago, I remember driving down the M1 South thinking, “Whoever is up there, or if anyone is listening, I'd like to say thanks for everything I have. I am truly blessed and so happy.” That's oscillated into everything opposite, but if I have achieved that before, surely it'll swing back when the time is ready?
Routine
I can be functional if I stick to my routine. That's coffee with Jam, Lion (the new guy – yay – he's fabulous) and Hot Pink on the rooftop of our incredible building in the middle of town, first thing in the morning. I can survive if I rigorously stick to my exercise, 2 litres of water a day, regular sleep, comedy, and a fascinating story to work on. A regimented routine. If I can't control my mental purgatory, I will control my routine.
Support and admittance to hard times
I, before stopping regular boozing, was your classic case of “plaster smile on and pretend all is alright”. Mainly because I hate feeling judged. But really, what's the worst thing about being judged for going through a hard time? It's not like it hasn't happened in the past – Wibble, my relationships, my decisions, my vices, my ability to spill out much of everything on this blog. So yes, things are hard. (And sadly, you don't know the half of them.) By admitting you're on a low rung, you can get support.
Fucking try to see the light side of it all
It's one thing trying to fake a belly laugh – don't do it, it's only for the professionals – but trying at all costs to laugh at something can take the focus off your troubles for maybe 5 seconds. I'm a serious person who takes stuff frigging seriously if it's important to me. I'm trying not to take it too detrimentally and have faith it'll right itself in good time.
If anxiety pills help me function...
...or if being human and fallible is what I am, then, it's what I am. Thank God really. Because living for eternity as a robotic immortal machine would really be a fate far worse than death. Who wants to live forever?
I'm delivering unto the universe
Here is it Universe. (Hands Mr Universe a parcel full of problems). Make of it as you will, and help me make sense of it all. May I not be in limbo forever. And please try not to screw me over to the point of me wanting to hurl myself from the upper storey roof/throw my hair tongs in the bath tub. May whatever happens be for a fucking good reason. I'm trusting you. So be nice.
I went for coffee last night with The Dove. She is one of my best friends on the planet for a few reasons: she's protective of me, she wants the best for me, she's brutally honest, she speaks her mind, she listens and she works with what I am, no bullshit, I can be exactly myself with her. I am so grateful to have her in my life.
