Monday 19 March 2018

Today's random thoughts, or maybe feelings

I listen to a lot of people, most of whom aren't at peace with themselves, and some of whom are incapable of making peace with themselves, or anyone else for that matter. You'd expect that, with the work I do, but I'm not talking about my work.

I had to go for personal counselling. That's an expectation of those of us who are training to do what I'm training to do. I talked mostly about how I see myself, and how I interact with others, and I'm still coming to terms with the implications of what came out in those sessions. Fate, the universe, or some higher power decided I would be a sensitive soul with a philosophical mind. Neither of those things make me the kind of guy that people seek out at parties.

I once said to a friend that I felt no one really understood.

The anniversary of my sister's death is coming up. It will be my birthday soon after that, and then my current course of study will come to an end. The last few years have left me with a sense of things not just being temporary, but ephemeral, uncertain and ever-changing.

I have to accept it all. I have to learn to accept myself. My experience of Zen tells me that it is not people, things or events that cause our suffering, but the meaning we attach to them. Well, maybe I have the bad habit of searching for meaning in everything.

Monday 12 March 2018

Burning out

Towards the end of January, I was at a big dance event in Liverpool. At that event, I learned that things were being said about me behind my back. It doesn't matter what was said or by whom: what matters is that I'd usually cope with such news much better than I did. Before I even got there, though, I'd picked up a few people I knew through this hobby, and they had the misfortune of seeing me become disproportionately angry about the difficulty we were having with finding the venue.

It's important to note that there were many other things in my life which were causing me to feel stressed. This is not the place to discuss them, but let's say I wasn't at my best.

I'd won two weekend passes to the event in a raffle. As the woman I love wouldn't be in the country, and isn't a fan of partner dancing anyway, I'd had to ask someone to accompany me to the event. In the end, I chose to bring a friend who had been one of the few women in the room who hadn't suddenly changed her attitude towards me due to my good fortune. Obviously, I wanted the weekend to be good for her, but I was also aware that it would quite probably be the only one of these big dance congresses I would attend. I wanted it to be good for me too. When things started going wrong on the first evening, I started to go wrong too.

Going into the first full day at the congress, where I'd be taking part in some dance lessons, I decided to start with an optional stretching class. As is my habit, I arrived early, and for most of my time there, it was just me and the instructor. In effect, I was getting a private lesson. What was important about this time was that it left me feeling a lot calmer.

The following morning, I attended the stretching class again, before the dance lessons started. As on the first morning, I arrived earlier than others wishing to do the class. Again, I felt calm. When the instructor said, as I was leaving, that she would be conducting a yoga class that afternoon, I said I would be there.

The yoga class had already started when I arrived. Even so, I felt the same sense of calm come over me. I promised myself that I'd join a regular yoga class on my return home.

On the way home, I was driving with just one passenger: the friend I had chosen as the recipient of the other weekend pass for the event. As I was leaving, to drive the rest of my way home from where she lived, I gave her a hug, and I didn't want to let go. In truth, I didn't know if or when I'd see her again. At that moment, I didn't know if or when I'd carry on dancing. Actually, I was pretty sure that I wanted to take a break.

I didn't realise it at the time, but I'd burned out. Going there, I didn't know what to expect. Arriving there, I realised there were more people than I had expected to be present. The hotel room wasn't great, to be honest, but it started to feel like sanctuary. There were times when I got to spend a little time with a good friend, and that was good too. Actually, it was great.

Some time ago, I got to spend some time with another friend I knew through dancing. A class ended early, due to circumstances beyond anyone's control and, as I drove her home, she told me she hadn't eaten before she came out for the evening. It didn't matter that we ended up in a fast food outlet, or that the wind kept blowing the door open, meaning we were hit by frequent blasts of cold air. What mattered was that there were few customers, it was relatively quiet, and we talked so much that it took us much longer to eat our food than it should have.

It's commonly thought that introverts like to be alone. I certainly prefer that scenario to the company of a lot of people. The sweet spot, however, is spending time with someone with whom I feel I truly connect. Yoga, meditation, and simply spending time in a quiet environment play their part too. All of these things help me to avoid burning out.

Tuesday 6 March 2018

One Sunday

A few weeks ago, on a Sunday, I drove East along the A55 with the intention of stopping at one of the service stops. Once there, I went into a branch of a well-known coffee shop, and ordered a cinnamon swirl and a hot chocolate. After a few bites of the pastry, I thought that I'd take a photograph, to remind me of something important.


I realised that, the last time I had been there, I'd had company. On that occasion, the stop had punctuated a longer journey: a journey that had been, for me, all about spending time with a dear friend. As the memory came to me, I felt conflicting emotions.

Being there was an example of self-care, and I'd taken the photograph to remind me of the importance of this. These service stops, to me, feel somewhat disconnected from the rest of the world: they are visited by various people coming from here and there, going to here or there, and it's unlikely that anyone will know or care who I am. Somehow, that's important to me.

Still, the memory of being there with a friend, having one person I knew with me, and both of us being unknown to everyone else there, struck me. On one hand, I liked the solitude, the relative peace and quiet. A part of me wished that someone was sat at the table with me, though: someone I felt that connection with.

I finished the pastry and the hot chocolate, and left. I'd learned something about self-care. I'd learned that, even for an introvert, it's not always about time spent alone. Sometimes, it's about spending time with the people who make you feel that you're not alone.