Readers, things did not turn out quite the way I’d hoped.
It is now over a week since I decided to stay off my anti depressants, and whilst I didn’t expect it to be easy, after a few days of continued abstinence I was flooded with self hatred, despair, a relentless, all consuming sense of hopelessness so I crawled into my pit, burrowed deep, hid for 48 hours, and truly wished that God, Buddha, anyone would raise a mighty hand, reach down and pluck me from this world forever, or at the very least, squash me like a bug with a meaty thumb and put me out of my misery once and for all.
I’ve been on my Sertraline for so long, I’d forgotten how poorly I really was.
If it wasn’t for my cats who jumped on me, laid on me, knocked things off the dressing table and pawed my face and butted me, their little eyes suffused with concern (and not just because they wanted their dinner) I’d still be there now.
Suffice to say, once I did emerge, I reached shakily in my drawer for ‘Big Sista S’ and have gradually been able to manage my pain, subdue the self hatred and tamp down the sadness, and I am now feeling a little more even and grounded.
Looking back, I think I managed to cope in Spain because (a) it was early days (b) I was surrounded with people and activities so didn’t really get the opportunity to sink into oblivion and (c) I was in such a loving, spiritual environment, that it somehow helped me cope with what was, in hindsight, a pretty rough week.
I’m sad it didn’t work.
But I’m not ashamed of myself.
I tried, and no doubt will try again.
When the time is right i.e. when I have built a bigger and better life for myself and have more support and less time and opportunity to fall down that horrible rabbit hole from hell.
As for my time at the retreat, maybe I’d have had a nicer time had I remembered to take my meds, but it is what it is and I have come away with some valuable action points.
Yoga, as I’ve always suspected, is key to my recovery and future equilibrium.
Earlier this year, I managed to let a couple of hippified mean girls and an intrusive, wannabee couch surfing Guru https://sistasertraline.wordpress.com/2013/01/19/reach-out-and-touch-faith-update/ put me off finishing my training and even doing yoga at all, so my daily practice had floundered, but now I’ve got back on track I’m not going to drop the ball again.
I will keep it up this time but knowing how important the group aspect of this is to me, I’m going to go to all kinds of classes, cherry pick the best things from all of them, finish my training with Guru and co next year (that will be a yoga blog to remember!) then teach my own personal style and not the style I’m told to teach.
Starting with tonights Iyengar class at my local shala. I don’t want to go, for whatever reason, but I will go. And again. And again. And etc.
MIXING WITH THE ‘NORMALS’
Whilst this wasn’t altogether comfortable and didn’t go as well as I’d hoped, I WAS off my medication so would hope that I’d be less sensitive in a similar scenario now that I’m back on it, so the test was kind of botched really.
Still I survived, and am in touch with one of my fellow guests at least, so I have no excuse to hibernate at home with my cats when I can be out and about, making more friends, if only I try.
Something Inca, the bonging mystic brought up in my reading was not believing that I know myself and guessing that I was not able to go within via meditation.
I thought I knew myself, warts and all, but perhaps she means the divine part of me that doesn’t hate itself the way I do. And she’s right about the meditation, I love the idea of it and rather hypocritically espouse the practice to others at any given opportunity, but I put the brakes on all the time because something about it scares me.
Because there might not be anyone home?
Because there might be someone home?
Because I might miss ‘Real Housewives of Menopausia’?
But I agree that i need help with this one, so I’m going to try and find a group to meditate, chant and do some chakra wotsit with.
Preferably one that doesn’t howl like they’ve been disembowelled and spray me with ‘Venus’, aka watered down market stall scent. https://sistasertraline.wordpress.com/2013/07/22/the-new-moon-commune/
Ah this old chestnut again….
Ms Inka was also right about this too. Whilst I’m a whole lot better than I was about actively forgiving people and not holding resentment in my heart, there are a couple of new and very old bits of shrapnel stuck in there that might take some time to totally remove, so I need to think about how to get those out, once and for all.
Any surgeons out there at all….
As you may have gathered, these posts weren’t uploaded ‘live’ so to speak. I did try to blog whilst out there but every time I settled in a nice sunny little spot and got typing, someone would clomp over, poke their head over my shoulder, zoom in on my fledgling article and go ‘Duh, whatya writin’?’ causing me to jab my iPad so hard, I nearly knocked it into the pool such was my haste to switch applications, causing said intruder, sorry, fellow yogi to look at mite suspicious re who and what I was writing about.
Yes, if you’re reading FY (unlikely) I was writing about YOU, ya big Dufus!
But God, I missed it doing my daily journal.
This is great news as, prior to this year it would have taken an SAS officer armed with a cattle prod to drag me to my laptop and make me write anything and now it is totally second nature.
MIGRAINE & MASSAGE
I have grouped these two together as I think one will definitely alleviate the other, so I need to find a South London ‘Sadie’ and see her once a month.
How will I finance that? Don’t know but God willing, I will find the way.
I’ve also been referred to a dental hospital as my chap reckons it’s a lot to do with my hideous teeth so I’m taking whatever help I can get.
On the day I returned to this cloudy shores, I realised I’d gained about four pounds of blubber, plus I had a big sugar/complex carb/large portions of food addiction to get over, and have only just got back to normal eating this week.
So whilst I loved the food at the retreat, and will eat more plant based meals, I do not plan to set up my own poo plant in Sarf London by continuing to eat my own body weight in potatoes, cake, rice, nuts and swede every fricking day.
Thank God that mail train has started to slow down now….
A BEAUTIFUL RIDE
It would be very easy to fall back on the notion that everything in Spain is wonderful and beautiful and everything in London is grey and grim and give myself permission to be a bit gloomy, but that is not actually so.
I just seemed more able and open to the beauty around me whilst in that area, but to paraphrase Ricky Fitts ‘There is so much beauty in the world’ and not necessarily where you expect to find it.
Sure I live in a city, but there are parks, and shops, and countryside is less than an hour by car from where I live, so I’m going to try and notice those little gems of wonderfulness peeking out from behind the bricks and concrete from now on.
And I want to ride again! I loved my afternoon with naughty Major so much, and whilst I know that the Spanish mountains are a hard act to follow, we have beauty spots all over Britain and it’s going to be my job to find them.
I’ll just need to buy some of those Spanx ‘big booty’ knickers with gel in them to protect my bony old backside, and then there’ll be no stopping me!
Ms Inca of the Bong asked me if I’d ever been truly loved.
But the question has stayed with me. Annoyingly.
Apart from some romantic love (which is mainly about sex innit?), I don’t think I really have, well I haven’t felt it in any case.
And rather annoyingly Inca reiterated Aunty C’s belief that I have to do it for myself.
By going within.
Presumably to look for my Chakras, the Good Parent, Unloved Child, the Judging Parent, Lord Lucan and all that lot.
I’d like to feel loved.
So I’m going to try.
So it’s back to reality.
Thanks for coming with me on my retreat journey (sorry, that was very X Factor – please don’t vomit onto your keyboard) and I hope to continue with what I learned moving forward.