I am getting a little tired of hearing the endless, nagging voices of anxiety in my head...
I don't mean that I'm hearing voices, or that the singing kettle is telling me to silence the demon toaster.
I once had a girlfriend who'd experienced that kind of mental health issue. She did recover in time. She was a lovely girl. Helen. Flame-haired. Another pale Celt. A good friend, but we stopped seeing one other after she split up from her boyfriend, my husband's best friend, and wanted to start anew in another space, place and time, with another man. Sensible thing sometimes, breaking with the past... Halting negative and trapped behaviours,
So, I have given up whingeing for lent...
Whingeing and whining. I've had enough and I'm getting a grip of my senses and sorting myself out.
Sometimes we need to note a slight downwards spiral in ourselves, do we not, to realise that we are alive, as Jinksy said, to recognise the moments of laughter and happiness.
Being sunk too low in our despair, we need to take heed so that we may arrest the corkscrew spin that does not end in an uncorking of sweet, sparkling liquids, but which will end in nothing but bitter tears...
I felt a little lighter today in my soul. A small veil lifted. I did some practical things. Paid some niggling bills. That felt good for a start. Cleansing.
Late last night, I launched into problem-solving thinking mode about the house my dad left to me. There is much that needs to be done, but I can deal with it.
I know I can.
I have to.
I might twinkle on, wondering why others seem to have it so good?
Asking why does all the crapilola stuff happen just to me?
But I recognise it for what it is; The dark, damaging, negative self-esteem impulse that's at play there...
Whoosh-whoosh whispering in my shell-like, "You're not good enough"...
But I am.
And so are you.