Look, blue sky! – Anna Spargo-Ryan

Look, blue sky!

Look, blue sky!

I didn’t make it to the concert and I feel amazing.

It’s confusing. Although I didn’t make it, I actually got further than I have done in months, so I feel a million bucks.

Though I missed the concert, what I got was the sense that I won’t miss every concert.

When I quit my job back in February, I was almost to the bottom of the pit, but not quite. I was bad, but I knew I was going to be worse. I could feel the waves crashing and I knew that they were going to try to drown me, so I needed some secure footholds, and they came in the form of being wrapped up in my house, listening to all of you tell me it would be better than it was. And that if it wasn’t better, that at least I wouldn’t be alone.

For a month I cried every morning on my way to drop the kids at school. Some mornings I made it. Some mornings I made it halfway, then called for help (I have a very patient family). Some mornings I only made it to the end of my street. One morning I didn’t make it out of bed. My kids put their little hands on my shoulders, and sometimes it helped and sometimes it didn’t.

The truth is, for three months I have spent my weekends indoors and would probably have spent my weekdays indoors too, given the choice. From Friday night to Monday morning I have been inside. Actually, one Sunday morning I did sit on the front step in the sun for half an hour. But I haven’t even been to the corner of my block, let alone a concert on the other side of town. Some weekends I literally haven’t moved from the couch from 7am to 7pm. Not even to go to the toilet. I’ve been paralysed with fear. I’ve done a lot of work, and watched a lot of TV, but I have been locked inside my house by the great angry walls of fear.

So on Saturday just gone, with the concert looming, I armed myself with every kind of anxiety fighting tool I have: essential oils, massage bars, water, chocolate, affirmations, sleep, sunglasses. When it came time to leave, I buckled and I cried. I got in my car and cried. I drove down the street and cried. I drove around the block and cried. I drove and drove and I didn’t make it very far but I did make it somewhere.

Gaz called me during the concert so I could listen.

When I got home from my outing around the suburb, I felt empowered and strong more than I felt sad. I dwelled not on the fact that I had missed the concert but on the fact that I had faced a fear and made some progress. Not all the progress. Not as much progress as I might have liked. But some. A little.

The bottom of the pit is below me. Thanks for helping me out of it.

12 Comments
  • Nicole McLachlan

    May 13, 2013 at 2:38 pm Reply

    Just quietly, I think you’re remarkable. x

  • Caroline

    May 13, 2013 at 3:35 pm Reply

    So proud of you. This was a big week and you did things you didn’t want to. We’re all here, walking with you, one corner block at a time xxx

  • J'aimee

    May 13, 2013 at 5:44 pm Reply

    Some days just making it out of bed is an achievement; so anything more than that is progress (at least this thought gets me through my tough days)…

    • Anna Spargo-Ryan

      May 14, 2013 at 8:21 pm Reply

      It’s true. Getting out of bed is often the hardest part of my day, when it comes down to it!

  • Jodi Gibson

    May 13, 2013 at 8:19 pm Reply

    Be proud Anna. Every step is a step in the right direction. I’m proud of you x

  • Rebecca Douglas

    May 13, 2013 at 11:39 pm Reply

    That’s kinda the mindset I have about exercise. I’m not very fit, but I aim for progress, not perfection. Even just a little bit of progress is a reason to celebrate.

    You did great! : )

    • Anna Spargo-Ryan

      May 14, 2013 at 8:21 pm Reply

      Thanks Rebecca! Aiming for progress is SUCH a good way of looking at it. I will keep aiming for that (and not beat myself up when I don’t manage it for a little while).
      x

  • Vanessa

    May 15, 2013 at 10:04 pm Reply

    Any progress is great – and even more so that you celebrated it :)

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