On Learning to Live Again

It occurred to me this week that this year has been the first year, in many, that I've started living again. I mean properly, truly, living. The most magical and scary thing that you can ever really do. 

This year has marked the start of many new chapters. I can't say I've been happy about them all, at the time, because that would be an outright lie. I detest change. Perhaps even more than is considered normal. But what is normal, anyway?

For a long time, my life has been small and intentionally so. When I moved to Farnham, nearly seven years ago now, I designed a life for myself that required as little interaction with the outside world as possible. And that was intentional and necessary, at the time. I was sick and in the midst of a new diagnosis that forever changed the course of my life. And, if I'm truly honest, as much as that diagnosis came to be the start of amazing things, it was hard. I never allowed myself too much time to think about it, but I did a lot of things to ensure that I protected myself; mind, body and soul. The trouble with coping strategies, as I've come to discover, is that they're usually only appropriate for the situation that they were invented for. They don't take into account the ways that we grow and evolve as people and mine have been no exception. 

And so, for pretty much the last decade, I've existed in the fortress of my coping mechanisms. Isolation and avoidance. Isolation from the outside world, which, for many reasons, had become a very scary place to me. And avoidance, because, when you can't ensure that you won't be in a situation, avoiding it after it happens becomes necessary. Coping skills at their finest, hey?

But slowly, slowly, life outside my bubble started to creep in. Friends asking to meet for a coffee, play dates for my kids. Nursery drop offs, where socialisation was necessary and where even more shockingly, sometimes enjoyable. Doctor's appointments and hospital admissions that were and are so regular that I got to know my nurses and other patients who attend with the frequency that I do. Slowly I started allowing small parts of the outside world in and even more slowly, I started venturing into the outside world again.

Now, this isn't to say that it's been easy. It's been many things, but easy, not so much. I've found it incredibly scary to start taking down walls that I built around myself and my heart. 

But, it's been... worth it.

The highs and the lows. The life that has happened in and outside of the lines. The pages of the book that will come to be my life story, slowly filling. I no longer feel entirely like an outsider everywhere that I go. I no longer feel as though I'm sitting at a window, watching life happen all around me. 

And it's been messy. Allowing feelings that I had buried so far beneath to surface to re-emerge. And instead of reburying them, allowing them to just sort of be. Many of them unpleasant and ugly, but none the less valid and necessary.

The process of opening my heart to life again has meant I've blundered into situations, naively at times, and made a right balls up of many things. But it's also allowed me to connect, in meaningful ways, with other human beings and experiences that I never thought I'd have. 

If I had to summarise what I've learnt over the last year, it would go something like this:

• Be uniquely you, always and don't underestimate how much courage it really takes to do just that.
• You're not going to be everyone's cup of tea. But guess what? Not everyone is yours, either. That's how this life thing works. Crucially, someone not liking you doesn't mean that you shouldn't like yourself. Repeat that and keep going.
• When people hurt you, it's rarely actually about you. They have full lives of their own and as much baggage as you. Yes, it hurts when you invest a lot in a relationship and it goes sour. But it is rarely exclusively because of you. Promise.
• Hurt people hurt people. As above, when people seemingly go out of their way to hurt you, it's rarely about you. It's mainly about them. Have compassion for that and move right along.
• There's freedom in accepting that you are not perfect and never will be. This whole life thing is one epic journey of self discovery. Some of those discoveries are wonderful and others, not so much. But all of them matter. 
• Literally no one knows what they're doing. You didn't miss a memo. We're all blundering around in the dark, just trying to do our best. And I bet you look more together than you think you do. Really.
• The key to looking moderately 'together' on the days when you really aren't is a hat.  Almost always. It hides many things. Apart from during heatwaves. Then it may actually add to your issues.
• Anxiety is a very necessary survival mechanism. But, it's also okay to get help (in whatever form this takes) with the times when it's out of whack. Life can feel a whole lot more manageable with the right medication and someone to talk to.
• Progress isn't about achieving something huge every day. It's about knowing which days are mountain-climbing ones and which days are eating-cereal-straight-out-of-the-box ones. Both matter. 
• Not all friendships or relationships are meant to last a lifetime. And that's okay.
• Sometimes. You. Will. Fuck. Up. and do things that you shouldn't have done. It's okay to apologise for these; to make amends as best you can and let go. 
• Self care isn't indulgent. It's quite simply the things that you do to help self soothe and take your threat system offline. Whatever that looks like for you, it's important. 
• Emotions can be very big and very ugly things. It's so incredibly important that you feel those things and know that no matter how big they are, they are never, ever bigger than you.
• Have the damn biscuit. 

And I'm not going to lie, all this living has me feeling totally, absolutely, bone achingly exhausted. For every day that I feel like I take a huge step, there are plenty more that feel as if I'm standing totally still. But crucially, I am once again feeling. So much of those feelings end up in my pieces and I am eternally grateful to each and every one of you for allowing that to be the case. 

And so here we are, friends. Nearly a decade into this journey that started with Soda and a blog. And if I can do this; this thing we call life; living; then so can you. Please know that you are so much more capable, so much braver, so much more truly magnificent than you really know. And on those days when it all feels too much; when the emotions feel too ugly; when you are quite simply broken with the exhaustion of trying; please know that I see you and I'm standing with you in that battle. 

So here's to the messy business of living again. 

You've got this. And on the days when you don't, it's more than okay to be a mess. Feel it all.

All of my love, always,

Caitie x