I went for lunch recently with a girlfriend and our first 15 minutes was a furious download session.
Upon explaining what has been going on in my life and in my head she replied –
“But I’ve been watching you on social media, everything looks awesome. I had no idea there was anything going on.”
Never, never, never believe anyone’s social media. If social media was filled with stress, anxiety, fashion crisis’ and food slopped on a plate by people wearing yesterday’s rumpled clothes it wouldn’t be nearly as addictive.
Social media is like the preview for Ted 2.
All of the best bits are right there front and centre, but in reality it’s not as funny, or clever, or styled. Facebook breeds comedians and never shows us when we cry over the shite bits of life. Because crying over shite bits is not ever going to get likes.
For the last year I’ve been in survival mode, and then I got the Mirena crazies, followed by a flattening flu that I’m still recovering from, and in the last little bit I’ve been feeling deeply overwhelmed and the conversations in my head have reached cacophony status.
Although these internal conversations are not evil voices telling me to join the liberal party or anything wack, the self-talk is beginning to affect my life in a negative way. I’ve realised it’s time to bite the bullet and go and talk some stuff out with a professional because you can run as fast as you can but your truck loaded with all the baggage always catches up with you.
This is not the first time in my life I’ve sought professional help, but this time instead of feeling like I was taking the bull by the horns it felt like an admission of not coping.
Some of the conversations I have with myself are due to the fact that much of my life is on social media.
I’m a social media addict and it messes with my brain. Although I don’t physically have more time in the day, I compare myself to people who are achieving more, thought leaders, innovators, clever clogs and stars of social media and I feel like I should somehow be trying to measure up.
Doing more. Being more. Achieving more.
I am not good enough.
As I sat in the brown tub chair opposite my brand new psych she suggested…..
Life is all about timing.
I have two kids not yet at school, and I’m a solo flyer who needs to put food on the table. Maybe surviving is enough for now?
It is enough.
I am enough.
I also project into the future and it makes me very anxious. A chronic over thinker who likes to be in control has no way of knowing what the future holds and that makes me my brain spin out. No one knows what the future can bring so staying in the present moment is very important.
A great way to get in the moment is mindful breathing.
Breath in for 5 and breath out for 4 (I have no idea where that extra second’s breath goes, but it probably turns into a fart.) Feel the breath going deep into the lungs and diaphragm, and then consciously feel it leaving your body.
Doing this 5 times, a few times a day will apparently help me stay in the NOW.
Talking to a stranger is not just about talking, it’s talking to someone trained in dealing with baggage who can give me tactics for coping when life gets a little big and scary.
For some reason I’m hesitant about sharing this post, I’ll talk about my vagina and my periods and whatever personal shit but to admitting that I’m not leaping buildings in a single bound is kinda tough.
I’m seeing someone and getting some tools to help with my overwhelm…. and I’m breathing big deep breaths so often I’m in danger of hyperventilating.
I don’t have an adult colouring in book, which is all the rage for mindfulness at the moment, but I did a Peppa Pig activity book with Kiks the other yesterday and that felt good. I think I’ll do some more ‘Spot the Difference’ and take it a little slowly for a bit.
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