It’s a golden autumn afternoon, with blue sky and a blustery wind. I have a migraine headache coming and going behind my left eye, so I am trying to allow myself to relax. This, on a day when a plumbing malfunction left me with no useable sink or washing machine (my sink waste mechanism crashed and burned late last night); on a day when my new lodger/house-sharer is in the process of moving in; on the day before the long drive down to Dorset to see my dad again.
My head is in a funny place at the moment. I am finding it hard to maintain an equilibrium and am upskittled easily by even small things – and, believe me, there have been plenty of straws to break this camel’s back. One minute I feel I am coping fine, the next I feel completely overwhelmed. My appeals for help via a request for a Carer’s Assessment and for more input from the mental health services have been turned down. Pulling out, and leaving my father without proper support, is not an option for me.
Then, a few days ago, a friend’s partner suffered a catastrophic stroke and underwent emergency brain surgery. Life hung in the balance. Someone young and vibrant suddenly wasn’t anymore, and their whole universe of friends and family were thrown into the uncertainty of an alien space.
It’s been a wake-up call.
How far I’ve let myself get bogged down in the detail of everyday life! My own struggles hinge on the minutiae of maintaining things, on ownership and property, on so many thousand words to be written every week.
The situation my friend finds herself in, took me back to the time that we nearly lost my son during heart surgery when he was 15. To the sudden, sharp, realization that life is not a given and that every moment is precious and has to be lived. Being reminded of this again I have begun to seek the goodness in the things that stress me out: the blessing of having a wonderful Quaker friend who came, at very short notice on a Saturday, to fix my sink; the joy of having found a like-minded soul and ‘cat auntie’ to share my beautiful home; the fact that the love between myself and my father binds me to his care.
Last night, a further blessing. My new mind-man, with whom I have found an amazing connection, telephoned me in response to an email in which I told him that the plumbing malfunction had made me feel like throwing in the towel. He listened, and soaked up that very upskittled mess in my brain, until I simply felt sleepy and OK instead. Like the lulling of a lullaby; a tone poem in caring and how to talk ourselves back to common sense.
So now I am thinking: how to treasure this golden afternoon? Maybe I will go out into the garden and gather the leaves that are dancing in the wind, until my house-sharer returns and we can begin a new chapter gathered in under the protection of this roof.
Brain somersaults! Again! I am convinced my brain (as well as my scatty cat!) is trying to do as many rotations as the leaves in my back garden in the autumn wind. Now where on earth was that ‘off’ switch?
A wander in Wareham Forest with dad and his dog, Isla. The joy of simply being outside with someone you care about and exploring somewhere different. And, of course, seeing Isla’s excitement at all those wonderful new smells!
© Anne de Gruchy