Almost immediately, I started noticing worrisome changes in
my mental health. In the 30 years since my mother was killed, I’ve come to know
the “warning signs” quite well. I no longer ignore them as I once did. I dare
not “soldier on” or bury myself in work: that way lies madness. Thank goodness,
I have never been tempted to use substances, legal or not, to escape. Instead, I
run to anxiety as my drug of choice. This time I decided to take action on my
own behalf before I got into serious trouble.
First I enlisted allies. At the top of that list is my
family, both my daughters (one at home, one across the country) and husband, and
my sister, with whom I’m very close but who lives in a different part of the
state. I let them know I was having a hard time and that if I was distracted or
irritable (or flaming irrational), to not take it personally because that meant
I needed help. No matter what’s going on, extra hugs are always helpful! So it
goes without saying that I am asking for – and receiving – more physical
affection. I find my whole body relaxing into a hug and I often fall asleep
while cuddling with my husband, I feel so safe and loved.
I decided to tackle my broken sleep first. My daughter and I
had gotten into the habit of watching videos until it was bed time. We made a
pact (and shook on it) to turn off the television early, to not begin a new
episode of whatever program we were streaming after 9 pm. I was delighted at
her enthusiasm for meditating with me. We got out our cushions and sat on the
living room floor, facing one another. The first evening, we lasted only 5
minutes, but that was enough to produce a sound night’s sleep. Since then we’ve
missed a night here and there, but have been continuing the practice for progressively
longer times. I don’t need an hour; 10 or 15 minutes seem enough right now. Soon
we realized that one of the cats was joining us, sitting in between us or on my
lap, and purring. I found the purring added to my relaxation and mental calm.
