Calm before the storm-ish

Something from this morning.

I've had my breakfast and a great cup of Origin coffee, I've read some of my favourite blogs and have noticed it's stopped raining outside. To most this would feel like an amazing start to the day.

I'd say the morning is my moment of bliss. It's usually my calm before the storm. At times, once my alarm has set off, my stomach drops, not because I'm going to work but because I'm still alive. The morning is the time of the day where I have 'space' to myself, where I am me, on my own. It's where I usually... feel my best. If the shift pattern permits I dance around the flat, prep my lunch, prep myself and put some music on to motivate me. Soon my hands are turning into fists. I keep biting my bottom lip. My legs are shaking, restless. Whilst looking out of the window I imagine walking to the tube, I realise I've been holding my breath the whole time.

It seems madness I know, I mean how can something so simple trigger a mountain of overwhelment. In a situation like this I have to focus on the facts- nothing is wrong. So why all the anxiety?

Truth is, once I'm out and I get to work I suppose I'm a little relieved once I've reached my destination. Anxiety thrives from routine. It thrives from keeping to what you know. There's a place I need to get to, boom and I'll head that way. However this routine for me is more time spent on my own. It's more time alone by myself and my thoughts - yet in public. Things that help are listening to music and a new one I've discovered, reading a book. Practicality. The side effects of anxiety: torn thumbs, headaches, breathlessness, shaky legs, restlessness, sickness, mood swings, hunched shoulders and however many more I could list.

I suppose this is why mental health is so hard to understand. It's like having a constant cold but no-one else can really see it. Sure the side effects are physical, sometimes they can be quite easy to hide.

Morning pages: take 1

Another warm lug and it feels like heaven. I'm thinking of breakfast and the gooey pb spreading on hot toast. I'm thinking of those raspberries I'm having to melt in a pool of pink for their tangy taste. I'm on the first and already want to brew the second. I must get dressed and pick a outfit I feel 'so so' in and walk to the tube in a wet flux. I'm so glad I bought these flowers they remind me of Nana and listening to radio 2 news at 9am. I like your tired face and that you have digestives with coffee. You aren't a morning person. I look forward to quiet Saturday mornings hangover free because I already feel 'too old' for that. We are all never too old. In this drying state I gulp coffee like warm answers and already I look forward to seeing you and hearing the acknowledged cough that you're in and we will get through this together. I'm so ugly at times. I'm about to read these joys and I look at the time seeing it disappear, my moments of grace before time for front and sensibility. My brain feels dry from those two drinks and that is why I didn't order another glass. First cup gone in 15. Delightful.