Grounding
Hello!
I've come to this post somewhat unexpectedly after an intense therapy session exploring trauma. I have requested a couple of hours of silence from my loved ones as I process everything we discussed, so I would imagine that they will be as surprised as I am to see me writing. However, writing is one way I am able to ground myself and I feel like grounding is an especially useful topic to touch on as my English friends find themselves in a winter lockdown.
To give you some background, I've been grappling with the news that I am unable to swim for the foreseeable future as my shoulder undergoes physiotherapy. Having been an athlete for most of my life, I am no stranger to time out due to injury, except this one was the result of an assault so the loss of the sport that I love is more pronounced. Having lost something so fundamental to me (I started swimming at age 3), and being in a considerable amount of pain, it would be easy for me to spiral into a PTSD-fuelled abyss. However, I feel like I have progressed a great deal this year, and put those dearest to me through enough anxiety (many, many apologies, Mum!), so a mental health crisis is not an option. Conscious choice. Not always viable as a conscious choice, but this time it is.
Now, I appreciate that PTSD is a fairly extreme example when talking about grounding so I will strip it back to basic worries in order to get my point across. Example: you're in lockdown; you need to get groceries, do your laundry, Zoom your loved ones, Zoom your colleagues, organise your finances, and complete 2 university essays by Friday. In this situation, it would be very easy to slip into a panicked fog, become overwhelmed, and conclude that you simply can't do it and crawl under your duvet and cry. Grounding yourself is a way of hitting pause. Therefore, take a breath, write a list of everything that needs doing, mark up the priorities on that list, then set reasonable short-term goals. That way, you look at things one thing at a time and things feel a little steadier. Now, I get that this is a fairly practical example, so I will return to the extremes. Also - I am using this post as a way of grounding myself through emotions of considerable magnitude - do bear with me!
On a grand scale, the loss of swimming has made the whole of life feel overwhelming. The pain in my shoulder smarts with new venom as it pines for the chlorinated rhythm it has grown to know so well; it also smarts with resentment at its attacker, and the images I am forced to relive every night. I also feel like I have a lot of excess energy, and an increasing niggling anorexic voice that is chastising me for the lack of sport in my life right now. On top of all of that is a real sense of shame and crushing disappointment that the 5km swim in Lake Windermere next June can't happen for the second year in a row. I feel like I've let both myself and everyone else down by not being able to do it. I know it can't be helped but the injustice of it prickles up my spine at a near hourly rate.
Taking a breath, I am able to remind myself of the following: This is not forever. Physio will help to rehabilitate poor broken leftie - and in the meantime, the KT tape looks pretty cool! I have been brave enough to actually go to physio and admit what happened to me. It might not sound like much but it felt like a massive step forward, and I am letting myself be proud. And, putting this in writing so I can return to it: This was not my fault. None of this was my fault. It will get better, and I will be back in the water before long.
I don't really feel the need to waffle on forever but I guess the salient point is this: life is ridiculous a lot of the time, but I have faith that whoever is reading this is beyond capable of tackling whatever life throws at them. Deep breaths, this too shall pass.
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