
Like a lot of people with mental illness, I spend a lot of time “inside my head”. I reflect on things, turning them over and over in my mind; often trying to work out how I could have dealt with a particular situation more effectively. Sometimes, however, I recall something that I’ve done well and focus on that. It doesn’t happen often, but it happens just often enough to stop the lights from going out completely.
I spend a lot of time looking inwards. Self analysis can, all too often, be synonymous with self criticism which, in turn, can lead to self loathing. It is definitely all too easy to fall back on the negatives.
Opening up to people is not something I find easy. Over the decades I have built up “protective” walls that have become nigh on impenetrable; and yet the darkness can always find me. The very walls that I put up to keep the hurt out can trap me alongside my pain. Letting people in to help me share the burden does, however, carry its own risks.

I am very much aware of my mental state at any time. It’s as if I live in a permanent state of mindfulness that alerts me to the dangers ahead; allowing me, where possible, to plot a safer course and, when necessary to take shelter and hide away from harm. It is an inner perceptiveness born of three decades of experience. It is a form of flight or flight response from what lurks inside my own mind. It’s a point of balance on an unstable foundation.
For me, self-care is, in the main, something that happens unconsciously in the background; it is ingrained into me, a part of who I am. When my mood darkens, it become a more active thing; forcing me to live day-by-day, sometimes hour-by-hour and, when necessary, occasionally even minute-by-minute. I have learned to accept that, sometimes, it is simply all about damage limitation, battening down the hatches, withdrawing as far from the world as possible and letting the storm run its course.
Sometimes, “inside” is the safest place to be…
KW
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