I’m trying to see the wood for the trees
But I can’t seem to
I had to make the most of the good weather this Thursday here in Galway.
My husband was going in to work that day- an occasional feature in his working week now that he and his colleagues mostly work from home to social distance.
I didn’t want to be cocooned at home staring at the job updates on LinkedIn feeling the absence of him coming into make his cup of coffee while we giggle waiting for the kettle to boil.
So I decided to drive to one of my favourite city woods, and boy was this a good decision.
It may or may not have been in my 5km radius, but factually wasn’t over the 10km. I just had to go there; I was at the end of my tether.
I’ve been great at following the government’s lockdown and social distancing requirements if I do say so myself.
But, I’ve been having a terrible relationship with walking as a leisure and mental health tool of late.
And this is not the first time I’ve had it. The first time I had it away from the nest was in the autumn of 2017 when things in my favourite factory were getting more tense on the gossip grapevine end of things and, in hindsight, perhaps instinctively I felt like something bad was going to happen.
For all my misgivings about it and other factories I have worked in, it was the most sophisticated factory in terms of efforts to maintain staff morale and work system design in the city in my career.
Massive props to whoever instigated that in this factory’s early days, and the people who still implemented it when I was there.
I planned to ask for a few days off just to clear my head. It turns out I didn’t need to. A few days later I was given the longest time away from the workplace possible- I was let go.
What this terrible relationship manifests itself as is a deep panic attack when I either can’t traverse across a momentarily daunting junction like the one at Hunstman Inn, or when the space on either Eyre Square or Southpark just feels too sparse all of a sudden.
Jelly legs, a rush of bad hormones to my noggin, my torso goes all tense.
And my creativity to pitch and motivation to find journalism work with actual media outlets has taken a nosedive.
It’s “will THIS THING that has just popped into my head because of the WAY I think be a thing to pitch to the current overarching trends of journalism?”
I’ve also had a mad time of it with escalators since the age of 18, and my idea of a bad date is ice skating or rock climbing.
Both times we Irish have had to go into level 5 lockdown, it has happened again.
In anticipation of the lockdown, I have tried to use positive affirmations reminding myself that walking is one of my favourite ways to unwind after the responsibility parts of my day are complete or to set myself up in the morning with endorphins for a day filled with childlike curiosity.
Also, walking is an absolutely brilliant day time version of the buzz you get from a sweaty nightclub when you have your headphones on. It’s basically like being at a silent disco, especially when a song like Paper Romance by Groove Armada comes on.
Your legs and lungs hardly know they’re burning calories.
So I turned to a dance workout video channel called Popsugar that I have been following on YouTube since the middle of August where in one of the videos the workout coach says that firmer abs aid balance.
And I’ve been going on walks with a brilliant friend of mine and my husband.
I also used the very animalistic survivalist rationale of “Katherine, you need to stock up on milk. There is but a drop left of it in the fridge. Why not walk down to Tesco and get a bit of fresh air?!?”
As the days progressed even the mini walks to get stuff for the kitchen and the likes began to be a challenge.
I had a session or two with a counsellor in the lead-up to Christmas 2017 who worked through with me the reasons I had this first bout of regular panic attacks and helped me come up with regulating techniques. I’m not going to go in to the autobiographical element of the sessions too much as I would like to keep this bit private, but the counsellor said the panic attacks specifically centered around this issue were my brain trying to attach my flight or fight responses to things I could control, as opposed to things I couldn’t.
It was this chapter in my life when I took the initiative to work through my thoughts around things using cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT). It works for certain situations.
But as I say, the counselling lasted two sessions and as I look back it was a temporary solution to get over what ever was happening to me in that chapter of my life.
It helped for a while.
I must emphasise: I never needed to worry about much as a teenager or young adult. My extended family were and are progressive and supportive and my parents gave myself and my brother a lovely little comfortable life.
But by the time you turn 25 don’t all typical adults end up having pretty much the same madness of life to deal with?
Your man Blindboy covered CBT on his podcast where he explained it in plain English and how he used it in his life to great effect.
But the small scale mental health tools feel too beyond where I am at in my headspace at the moment. The ones usually found on a free downloadable app.
That’s why I had to go to a particular wood that was beyond my government-prescribed 5k radius.
It had something completely different about it.
The housing estates around me just reminded me of the fact that “there is another social unit behind that door, who are experiencing the same pandemic I am.”
On the main street with shop signs on them my head said: “this main street has businesses on it that are feeling varying successes and hardship as a result of the economic measures brought on by the lockdown levels.”
What did the wood have? Let me attempt to describe it to you sort of like a review for a Micheline star restaurant.
First of all the smell. Oh God. The smell you can only get in a space filled with trees that have been allowed to sit there for hundreds of years. It’s intoxicating. Miles more character than an oil diffuser.
The naturally irregular layout of trees draw your eyes on further and further as your sense of wonder increases.
The lapping of small rivers against the rocks underneath. Music to your ears. No need to download spa music to your mp3 player. It’s all there in stereo.
And the autumnal greens and oranges turning to brown. The way the sunlight bounces off leaves which in turn create these moody shadows. Vibrant colours that no HD TV could ever match.
With the indicators of civilisations of times past of rocks in man-made formation, my imagination was heightened. I was half expecting Harry Potter, Ron Weasely and Hermione Granger to start running at me with their wands. But I couldn’t see them. Hermione must have activated her disillusionment charm.
Finally, which I think is the most important thing. The distant suburban and urban noise of traffic for example is completely removed due to the trunks of the trees. It’s so still in there.
In 40 minutes time, and 5,000 steps later, I was a happy woman, and had the endorphins of a much happier time in my life.
Deciding to take a walk in this wood, it was a geographical and ecological pocket within my chosen city that I dearly love, that I could completely switch off from my troubles.
This is the latest walking route that I have made the decision to take, but I do feel I need to work on my underlying issues to a much greater degree.
I’ve a feeling that somewhere in my journey to finding even more out about myself is an official diagnosis of hypersensitivity. A journey that will help me use the strengths of this personality type to it’s beautiful life-giving benefit.
Even on a foreign city-break two-weeker holiday, I now know that I shouldn’t try to book too many tickets to museums just so that I can completely unwind in a my hotel room with a blanket over me for long stretches of time where I drift off to sleep.
Of course I could be completely wrong here about the kind of personality type I might have! I ain’t a doctor!
Please listen to this podcast if you’re interested in finding out more about hypersensitivity:
On Tuesday, I self-referred to Lets Get Talking, Galway. They are a nation-wide flexible-cost mental health service with a good reputation around town. I have made the decision to make my end of the conversation in my counselling more of a life-long supporting effort.
And I will try and not let my historical tendency towards people pleasing, having a knee jerk reaction of Everything’s Fine and trying to look cool not get in the way of working through the phases.
My unofficial request this week to the government? Can you please add to the COVID-19 levels:
Travels outside of x amount of kilometers are permissible if Katherine Condon and people like her need to absorb the self-therapy found in the ecology of a long established forest?
And can we cultivate more natural forestry à la the level that Finland has?