Back to reality

Next week; the weekend; tomorrow; even later today feels like thinking too far ahead. I seem to be suffering from an inability to contemplate anything outside of what I can see/hear/smell/taste/feel right at this very moment. Some would say this is a blessing in disguise; a convenient shortcut to mindfulness - a zen-like state of being which would take most people years to attain... Doesn't feel so enlightening when there are decisions to be made, and important ones at that, along the lines of...Where am I going to live? and with whom? My current, temporary situation (staying in my aunt and uncle's house) is coming to a perilous end as their prospective lodger is set to move in on Monday (3 days time) and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't be best pleased to find me tucked up in his bed with my snotty tissues everywhere and empty pill packets strewn over the floor (let's just say that cleaning and tidying has not been my priority these past weeks). So, assuming he is still coming to live here in this, what I now feel to be my room/sanctuary/hide-out, then I need to get focused and work out my next move tout suite!

...

Now, three days after writing the above, I find myself back in my room in the shared house (which was always available for me to return to). I was so afraid, before, that moving out of the safety of my aunt and uncle's house would spell disaster for me heath-wise and would surely precipitate another fatigue set-back. Surprisingly, the move has been mostly a positive one. I'm enjoying being in my own space again, and having my buddhist altar and gohonzon (inscribed scroll) to chant in front of. My housemates, the ones I've seen anyway, have been thoroughly supportive and seem pleased to have me back. I remain cautious as it always takes a few days, or even a week, to determine whether a shift has been beneficial or detrimental to my health. When the dust has settled, and I feel that I've regained some semblance of balance, I will be able to survey my situation and decide how best to proceed. The scenario described above, of living moment-to-moment for lack of energy to think further ahead, persists - though now I am able to embrace it. Perhaps because I am back in my territory and without any imminent threat of eviction, the hours of quiet contemplation are less fraught with anxious thoughts of "what's to become of me?!". I have built up enough faith and cultivated adequate patience to be able to continually reassure myself that I am making progress, even if most days it's imperceptibly incremental, nevertheless my life is moving forward. I realised, only recently, that the difference between being hopelessly stuck and quietly confident that things are coming together is completely up to the individual. I have simply decided on the latter as my default attitude. And it's working. I can see that the tiny efforts I am making day after day are all contributing to my well-being. Whether it's reconnecting with an old friend, or taking the time to write this blog, or experimenting with treating family members with greater respect!, I have to trust that I'm on the correct path and that nothing is wasted.

The irony is that in order to feel this forward momentum, and to appreciate one's current set of circumstances, one needs first to succumb to the realities of whatever limitations they are facing. Once I fully acknowledged the true extent of my fatigue and admitted that there are activities I just cannot manage right now, I was able to start asking for help, specific help, and found that family and friends are only too happy to oblige. My mind has been opened to the possibilities of living in a different way; a way that takes in to account my fatigue and enables me to focus on enjoying the little energy I do have at my disposal. Whenever I hear the familiar voice of self-criticism trying to take control after, say, a bad night's sleep ("Oh well, there you go, no point in trying to get anything done today - you may as well not even bother getting up in this state.") or a failed attempt at meeting up with a friend ("You've really done it now, they're never going to contact you again you flake") I think of my friend Sal who always encourages me to be kind to myself and to acknowledge how far I've come. Last night I had a stressful dream (or nightmare I suppose you'd call it) in which I found myself back in hospital having to undergo another stem cell transplant. I was delirious with anxiety and uncertain of how much longer I had to stay in isolation awaiting the horrendous after-effects of having my immune system suppressed to zero, I felt dizzy and breathless with fluid retention and was staggering about trying to keep a hold of myself when someone told me I hadn't even started the transplant yet - the sickening prospect of having to endure this hellish experience again was visceral and shocked me awake at 4 in the morning. I don't think I slept properly after that and so unsurprisingly feel pretty ropey today. Sleep deprivation always leaves me very self-critical and full of frustration at the inevitable decrease in productivity that results. And so, I keep thinking of Sal and what she would say to me right now; something along the lines of "Wow, all that trauma you've been processing, no wonder you're wiped out. Be extra gentle with yourself today and take time to acknowledge the healing that's taking place. You are so precious!". For some reason, talking to myself in that compassionate way is near impossible but if I somehow channel her spirit and talk to myself through Sal, then I am able to accept the soothing words of wisdom. A strong and unconditional friendship offers the most powerful medicine there is.