Blog Posts, Menopausal Mutterings

The mind is a funny old thing…

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… if you let it run out of control who knows which rabbit hole you can end up falling down. Will you end up in Wonderland or in one of Dante’s circles of hell. Knowing my luck, it would be the latter. That’s the thing with anxiety, the mind can be super-efficient at making epic mountains out of molehills. Mine is particularly gifted at this. It was more or less under control, up till COVID hit. Hands up all those whose first thought is COVID when they get a cough or the sniffles? Yup … me too.

Mum’s failing health and subsequent transition to her new life has not exactly helped matters. It seems the grieving process can turn up the volume of anxiety and its little weirdo friends, the physical symptoms. What a conundrum. How do I know whether that odd thing is a product of an anxious insomniac mind or a physical thing? The thing is, I don’t. I just don’t know. But what I do know is that almost without exception, they all dissipate when I finally chill out. They also disappear when I’m engrossed in a task, go for a walk, have a gin and tonic.

COVID lockdown 2.0 hasn’t helped. We must stay home as much as possible, staying away from other people. Socialising is just not a safe option just now. Our region hoped to be coming out of lockdown and into tier 2 – with some socialising allowed, but alas, we are too close to one of the UK’s major COVID hotspots so not much change come Wednesday. It will simply be Lockdown 2.1 until 16th Dec. Boo! Much as I love my family to bits, I miss giggling with my dance club members ,and weekend afternoons in the pub, with a drink by the fireside, tackling the weekend giant crossword while chatting to friends and neighbours (at a distance, of course).

I know how lucky I am to have my family around me. Dad is in Scotland with not so many restrictions, but he is now on his own. The clubs and groups that would be supporting him through this time are closed indefinitely. My sister is close by and they have ‘bubbled’ together for support, but neither of them is getting the support which really helps – in person contact.

Photo by Askar Abayev on Pexels.com

The healing power of a hug should not be underestimated. Last night I dreamed Mr D and I were with our dance club members and it was safe to hug again (this is my dream, so hugging is fine). One of the ladies, who’s famous for her epic carrot cake, gives the most amazing hugs and she packed a year’s worth of missed hugs into one mega-hug for me. It felt like she lifted so much sorrow and pain from me in that one hug. Gosh, how I wish that was real. I reckon the physical symptoms of grief would be much reduced by timely administration of healing hugs.

I truly hope that this time 2021, I’m writing about being safely hugged. For now, I send you all the safest thing I can – virtual hugs.

Stay safe and healthy my lovelies.

Cath xx (virus-free kisses)