Where D'Ya Go, Rho? Ep13 Invest To Be Your Best

Blog Day beckons again. I am Rhona, a 40 something who is emerging from a funk that had her hidden under the same covers so long that I was about to be declared a listed building. I have been trying to get to the root of the problem in a manner of different ways, some conventional, some less so.

Apologies for not being diligent at my blog keeping but the shifting mood has kept me busier than I expected. I spent some time down at my sitooterie by the sea. While there I managed to capture the northern lights in resplendent form. I was happily taking photos of the sky in my baffies and jammies that I simply wouldn’t do back at home.

Sadly life at home is stressful due to living with neighbours above us. From the moment I moved in they have been changeable at best and committing criminal damage at worst. We can’t go out the back without a set of eyes appearing from a window above or suddenly hanging a washing outside no matter how inclement the weather. Subtle as the brick that probably panned my back windscreen several years ago they are not the evil mastermind they think they are. Outbursts are often fuelled with alcohol and given that our house is virtually teetotal it’s not a good mix. Mind you if we resorted to drinking maybe we’d be less civil in our stance of non retaliation and it would be sorted by now.

Without my bolthole by the sea I think I would have gone mad living there. Sometimes I need to be able to sit out the back and enjoy the fresh air without a snow leopard print housecoated figure appearing to have a nosy. The other week the lady of the house (I use the lady very loosely here) was watching my late neighbour’s house getting emptied into a van and the female of the house was stood by the fence watching each item go as if she was watching for anything she could have. She is now known in our house by the moniker of the snow leopard death vulture.

Just when I thought they couldn’t sink any lower the death vulture said, “Haud ma pint”
They already have an extra blue bin, which we believe they stole but the other day they took our deceased neighbour’s green one. They broke the lid of theirs and repaired it with cable ties.
So, two bins were in their drive but now the number stickers for their house are on the neighbour’s bin and the cable tied lid bin has been denumbered and slung next door to our deceased neighbour’s house.
Surprise surprise they are so snake belly low they steal a deid man’s bin. Keeping it classy.

With the weather improving and just back from the van after having Ruby and her pal stay over, I was knackered and kinda due a rest. We had ordered a new cover for the gazebo that stops the death vulture peering from above and keeps me from frying in the sun but as yet nothing had arrived. Best thing all round was me heading back to Ayrshire and enjoying the relaxing views of Arran and Kintyre. Mark was happy to have the kids at home as he is a homebird and me not being there means for him there are less jobs to do. So back I went with my wee fur baby Bella in tow. I had enough food in the cupboards that I didn’t need to go anywhere and a wee list of jobs that needed doing. It may have only been wee sewing jobs or a spot of light gardening but it was enough to keep me active. We also love a jigsaw so I took a few we had from family and from Christmas down. I managed 3 of 2000 pieces combined during my time there.

I had treated myself to new bedding and the feeling of being freshly washed with clean jammies in brand new bedding is joy I never thought would be some of my happiest moments and at what age the joy of such a thing kicked in but man alive, I am so up for it. It’s the coolness of the sheets and their smoothness seems to send me to sleep with an ease I rarely get. These moments remind me that amongst all the strum und drang that life throws, at heart I am a simple gal with simple pleasures. I am by no means basic but simple- I am cottagecore happy.

Just the joy of looking out to sea at Arran or the Alisa Craig and I am in heaven come rain, hail or shine. Breathing in the sea air relaxes my body on arrival and takes the city pressures away in an instant. Without an outlet like this I would have Gordon Gecko a long time ago. I need to invest in my self care because without it I am running on empty.

It is something I have to actively encourage, I think it is more prevalent in perimenopause as my hormones left the building, it left the ADHD part of me high and dry. This meant my coping mechanisms weren’t able to deal with the increased symptoms. It is only now that I am reading into the condition that I realise I have had this for a lifetime but managed to keep a lid on it in the main until now.

The things I used to be chastised for; being a fidget, a chatterbox, hyper and always on the go were actually my hyperactivity in action. Even little things like my need to pick at myself was a form of stimming which is a way to stimulate yourself when ‘inactive’. I have the skill of being able to hyper focus for hours on end, if engrossed in a task to the detriment of everything else- movement, eating, drinking and toileting. I used to brag about having the bladder of a camel but in fact this is not healthy behaviour but likely to burst my bladder like a balloon.

My ADHD symptoms were made worse in lockdown when I had nowhere to go; I physically shut down but mentally my mind was as active as ever. My brain was running the treadmill for my mind and it was going Usain Bolt speed whereas my body had rigor mortis setting in. Therefore, I didn’t sleep. I stayed awake for days on end, replaying scenarios from the past in my head over and over again. I moved furniture in my head, redecorating at will, making my house look like a palace in my head while in reality I was in the middle of chaos.

I wish I was able to have made more use of the lockdown years, learned an instrument, a new language or a new craft but it was as though my body was buffering and I was stuck as the system went round and round. Sadly I play music as badly as I ever did and my pigeon English will have to suffice for now.

Between my OI (dodgy bones), ADHD (annoyingness) and C-PTSD (mentalness). I am quite a combo of initials. Complex PTSD puts my body in a state of primal fear. In that moment my brain has a choice, do I fight, flight or freeze. My body often opts to freeze. So if in the jungle I would stay still, hold my breath and lay low until the predator got bored or found a new piece of prey to stalk. Thankfully I wasn’t devoured but I still paid a price. Staying still can make your body sore as you can essentially freeze your body into a position for days, weeks, months or even years at a time. In that space, muscle atrophies and stiffness sets in. I reckon my body has been in a state of non movement to some degree for the last 40 years. Your body recalls every trauma and untreated it will retain that memory in a physical form.

Since beginning this journey I have made a conscious effort to invest in myself and my own wellbeing. Before, I deemed self care as selfish and wasteful of my time. I would prioritise others before myself and give my all outwardly while groaning inside. Over the last few months I have noticed a marked difference in my demeanour since concentrating on me first.

For starters, the CBD journey has levelled my pain more to the point that I have less crashes in my body. My mood has elevated overall and again doesn’t result in a tsunami style wave of ebb and flow. Instead I am treading water in calmer seas and I am actually waving and not drowning. Just the fact I pay for my medication means I have to financially invest in myself in order to remain in this condition. It works out at a bare minimum of a tenner a week which is nothing in exchange for the difference it has made. Add to that therapy, basic self care like hair etc then it adds up but contrary to my former belief, it’s worthwhile.

I have also been attending the CIC, the Centre for Integrative Care at Gartnavel. They use a holistic approach and have offered a number of therapies which have in part helped me to look within and see what needs altered as well as practical solutions. I have had group support, holistic physio, drama therap, homeopathy, one to one consultation and I am about to embark of some mindfulness. I am willing to give anything a go to feel a modicum better than I did. I was offered online help but it was less effective.

I now understand why some forms online of self study therapies do not work for me. If I do have ADHD which I deeply suspect I do (long waiting lists have stopped me from seeking an official diagnosis), I find it very difficult to initiate this kind of therapy. It’s as though my engine won’t start without a jump from another. It explains why I wait between activities in a holding mode. It’s why I am often found in my car doing sweet FA when right outside my house. It’s as thought the act of getting out of the car is prevented until an appropriate waiting time has been reached. It’s like a breather between jobs. Something that can help is body doubling. This is when another person is around. They do not have to be actively involved but just the act being around motivates me to start and keep going. It’s why I am typing this in college even though I only came in for a massage treatment. Being around others who are doing a similar activity motivates me like working at home can’t. I will eventually at the last minute but it’s laboured, stressful and not enjoyable. I now know why I like to hang at Waterstones as my mind doesn’t wander the same way and I can get stuff done. It’s also why I am not triggered into housework if others in the house are idle.

Understanding your inner workings is half the battle but going easy on yourself is another. I have spent hours and hours chastising myself for being wrong, defunct, broken and worthless. It has been detailed, intricate and very harsh on all areas of my self. Now I am making a conscious decision to question Bertha, my mental health monster when she rears her ugly head. More often than not there isn’t a good enough explanation for her behaviour so she is politely asked to zip it. It’s the old adage of if you have nothing nice to say then say nothing at all. Bertha is schtum.

I have been attending the college across from my house to get weekly body therapies; whether it be a body massage, foot massage or facial, I attend to let the students have a guinea pig to work on, the money I pay is donated to the local hospice so everyone is a winner. For me I get an hour out of my day whereby I have made a decision to do something for me. I have concluded that, like L’Oreal says, I’m worth it. I would often feel guilty about the money spent on me and not on the kids or the time away would be seen as frivillious. Now I see it as important to reset and recharge. I currently smell of relaxation; chamomile, bergamot and ylang ylang is my combo and I am in the college library writing my blog. I will stop in about 15 minutes to head to the refectory for lunch before heading home and doing whatever else with my day. For now though, this is my time and I will not apologise for that. I wouldn’t drive my car without proper maintenance and fuel so why do I seem to think that doing that to myself is fair game?

Between all this and my DBR therapy (a blog for another day), I am definitely turning a corner into understanding where I went MIA. Now to get her back.

The menopausal weight has crept up on me coupled with lockdown lbs too and my shape has changed into something I am not comfortable with. Now that I am getting a bit more stable mentally, then I think the next on the agenda will be on my waistline. However, it is lunchtime so I am away to break my fast and have a nosh. Sue me.