What’s so hard about going out?

‘Worry Wart’

I’ve found this post so difficult to start. I have tried several times in the last day or two, but not managed to concentrate long enough.  The words have jarred so in my head, that I’ve ended up deleting them and going outside for fresh air. Still, my mind refuses to quit jumping from topic to topic, thought to thought. I’ve cut, copied and pasted so many times trying to make the words fit despite the chaos in my head!

I’ve always been a worrier since I was very small. Outings have always been hard since a young age because of the need to be near a toilet. Growing up, I still went camping with The Brownies, and The Girl Guides, even though the latter meant sleeping in tents… and dashing to toilets. I’ve been on numerous picnics with my family or while on a Scripture Union holiday. I always worried about accidents, and developed something of a fear of public loos.

There were other worries too. Since I was very small, I become easily disorientated, sometimes even in familiar places, getting lost as easily as a young child might do, and have been known to panic in crowds. Having the spatial awareness of a 10 yr old is the reason why I’m not allowed to drive, but somehow, still allowed to be in charge of an electric wheelchair!  I don’t know how I managed to move away to university twice, given these sorts of problems, but now many years have passed since my move to the wrong side of the Scotland/England border, I’m very glad my parents gently encouraged me to accomplish as much as possible. I was no different from my brother in this respect, having both left home at a similar age. However even if going out while at uni or when I lived in my flat was as ‘simple’ as going out for a meal with friends, out to a friends house or out shopping with friends, I’d be so anxious beforehand so as not to sleep much the night before.

Argh….!argh

As time has gone on, and my health issues have become more complex, going out have become much more of a thought, and required more planning than ever. Even weeks or days before an outing, I’ll worry whether I’ll be well enough to go at all, and how much going out will take out of me, or if it will cause a pain spike. Remembering to take spare ostomy kit and spare clothes, medication, my phone in case I got lost, always having a drink with me because of greater risk of dehydration, and so on alleviates some of the worry. However, I’ve even had panic attacks and lots of trouble with anxiety, especially in the last few months, before I made the decision to move. I’ve had mindfulness training and other help with my mental health due to the toll my physical health has had on my mind. I find it useful as a practical skill to calm down if i’m in a state of heightened anxiety. Of course, I still pray at times of worry and panic too, as mindfulness is no replacement for prayer, and nor is it intended to be.

‘Somebody stop me’!

Tomorrow, I’m due to meet up with a faithful friend I haven’t seen in 2 and a half years. I should be excited about seeing her and catching up on all her news. All I can think about is if I will feel well enough to enjoy being out, if my friend will be shocked at the differences in me, and how I will manage to stay calm while navigating an area unfamiliar to me. There is of course, the usual worry over toilets! I will be with a carer as I am unable to do this kind of thing on my own. Much to the staff’s confusion, as they said they didn’t want to feel like a spare wheel in a private conversation. Fair enough… The worries around going out have become enough for me not to be concerned about this, as it is far more important to be accompanied and hopefully relax enough to forget everything for a little while, other than enjoying seeing my friend..

Making such an effort to go out means I’ll have to schedule in ‘recovery time’ afterwards, chronicillnessmeme2to try to recoup some of the extra energy used. Going from day to day can mean I need a least one recovery day in bed, so adding extras to my week isn’t easy. It’s very necessary for me though. It’s a big part of feeling as though I’m living, and not simply existing. Being with friends or family energises me, and I love being around people as much as ever. Despite all the effort, I’ll continue to push myself to go to new places and keep seeing my friends occasionally, rather than them always having to come and see me. A carer commented today that I seem to have lots of friends. I think it’s in part because I’ve learned the hard way that you have to be a good friend to others to make good friends. I wouldn’t have it any other way… and I get to nap after!

Over to you….

 

  • Áre you a worrier? I’m interested to hear how you manage those worries, whether it be through keeping a journal, hitting the gym or something else.
  • If you also have an illness (physical or mental) or a disability, do you find it difficult to meet up with people or to go out? What are some of the ways you cope with going out, or coping with not being able to go out?

The costs of being a “Social Butterfly”

Effort-fully flawless

I’ve been talking about my Gran’s 80th Birthday Party for months. Finding a venue wasn’t straightforward given the necessity of wheelchair access, and a properly “accessible” toilet, plus a function room easily navigated by an electric wheelchair, and a buggy, and enough room to seat everyone else. Through the effort of more than one person, this was successfully achieved.

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All dressed up in my pink lace dress, hair curled, make-up done, with somewhere to go.successfully achieved.

Despite knowing this, I knew I wouldn’t sleep much the night before. There is always too much to think about. Eating little the day before, but drinking the full jug of electrolyte fortified water, helped minimize risk of accidents as much as possible. I knew found a dress that would be comfortable enough for sitting in a wheelchair, and shoes that matched the dress but were still easy enough to walk in.

Getting ready still took me and two carers more than an hour but the finished result was worth it. I still had anxieties over the journey, and surviving the day well enough to enjoy it.

Surviving, and thriving

I found the journey very difficult due to delays and roadworks. Circling roundabouts feels very different when travelling in a wheelchair-access van. The chair pulls you one way, and the roundabout another, despite being clamped in and wearing a full seatbelt. I tell you how relieved I was when we finally landed. I found a corner where I could easily see everyone, and finally settled Eschewing the sparkling wine and orange juice for my usual electrolyte water, I enjoyed all the catching up. My Gran loved it all too, despite protesting months earlier that she didn’t want a fuss! 🙂

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My Gran’s gorgeous birthday cake, decorated with purple flowers and lots of twirly icing.

Dinner was lovely, melon and sorbet, followed by roast chicken and all the trimmings, and berry pavlova for sweet. I considered snapping pics of the plates, but decided I rather enjoy it than photograph it all. Drinking decaff coffee all the time means the after dinner coffee energised me. Enough for a ‘walk around the golf course with my mum, grandparents and nephew. Loved the fresh air and wildflowers/weeds. My favourite bit was all the catching up with family I hadn’t seen for months, and being able to whizz round the room in my chair to choose who I wanted to talk to. This was thanks to the room being re-organised by my Auntie the night before. All too soon, it was time to head back to the home. I even had an impromptu leaving party round the van!

 

Post party hangover

I was of course, exhausted when I got back, and continued to feel shattered even after a good night’s sleep. It was 3pm before I was even awake enough to get up. If asked how I felt yesterday, I would have said I was drowning in fatigue, drunk on sleeplessness, despite not touching a drop[ of alcohol. It’s a big effort to participate in family gatherings or other events, and takes a toll on me afterward which I am still feeling today. Staying in bed would have likely made me feel worse, so I got up very reluctantly. Now I’m managing to write, I’m glad I made the effort. I have fabulous memories of the weekend, and photos I can keep forever. I was able to celebrate with my Gran, and the rest of a family I love to pieces. No price can be put on that, even in terms of energy reserves used. The effort required is always worth it, no matter how much ‘recovery’ is required afterwards.

Do I want to take pain medications? The simple answer is no. Just like I don’t want to take any of the medications I am prescribed. But equally I know that those same drugs keep me functioning. That without them I would not be able to write this post, or stand, or walk the few […]

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