Inwards and Outwards

by Esther Andrews

I practically danced into our kitchen after coming home from work. The underfloor heating leapt into my bare soles with delicious warmth. “You know, I feel so happy tonight,” I declared to my husband. “Happy?” he responded, suspiciously.

Of course he was delighted, but he had a right to be surprised. I had hadn’t made such a declaration for a long time. Today my body felt alive with joy sparks, but for the past eighteen months the thoughts in my head had felt like damp sticks struggling vainly to create a flicker. He wondered what had changed.

Nothing had changed, externally. I still felt frustrated in my job. I still loved my volunteer work with young people. I still felt fatigued. I still lived in a lovely house with a wonderful husband. The situational highs and lows in my life were largely unchanged.

But internally, massive changes were taking place. At the age of twenty-six, I had discovered a new way of being.

Since I was sixteen, I had been consumed with anxiety regarding the future. I was haunted by the fear that I might die alone. I don’t even now know where that fear originated, and wish I did.

Did I have enough friends? – teenage me wondered. What if my husband dies before me and everyone forgets I exist? – newly married me wondered. Instead of experiencing the present, I was continually lost in the hypothetical horror of a lonely future. Realising that I ultimately had no control over my future, each day I would awake with a heavy heart and repeat the cycle of fear and worry.

In March 2014, a close friend’s world was shattered when she discovered her husband’s long-term affair with a younger woman. Exhausted already from the mental burdens I was carrying, my anxiety transformed sharply into depression. Watching her go from a calm and composed woman to one experiencing frequent panic attacks took its toll on me as I struggled to talk her through this time. I will never forget the day that I told my husband that I didn’t want to live anymore, and the grief-stricken look in his eyes.

My desire to die remained unchanged until around October 2015. I described it flippantly to those in the know as ‘low key’. I painted it in those terms because I did experience moments of happiness and I never made actual plans to end my life. But, as anyone who has suffered with depression will know, the reality is painful to the point of numbness. I should have taken my feelings seriously sooner, rather than attempt to minimise them.

I heard about mindfulness whilst browsing some news websites one day in September 2015. An article that caught my attention was on www.theatlantic.com, and was about mindfulness meditation being used in classrooms to promote educational and emotional wellbeing. However, I was sceptical. I couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to become more aware of their feelings – I wanted to forget mine.

After some consideration, I decided to give mindfulness a try. Anything was worth a go and I recognised that antidepressants, whilst effective, weren’t a long-term solution. With some misgivings, I began my journey
with the guided mediations on www.meditainment.com. Then I began mindfulness meditation, and purchased The Little Pocket Book of Mindfulness, by Anna Black. So began my real adventure into better mental health.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Stay with the in-breath, stay with the out-breath.
Become aware of what’s going on around you. What can you hear? What can you smell? How does it feel when you bite into a jalapeño, or when a sea breeze whips your hair?

Breathe. Notice. Experience. Baby steps.

How does it feel to have a whole day at the zoo with your best friend, without worrying about whether she will somehow end up hating you? Put your nose right up close to the penguins. See how they smush their beaks at you?

It crept up on me slowly. I no longer woke up wishing the day was over. I went a whole day with no worry about the future. I felt intense happiness over a hot chocolate. The joy sparks had begun!

At first, I assumed that I would need a quiet space in which to be mindful. But what actually works for me, very often, is a moderately busy environment. I love to close my eyes and pick out each individual sound, feeling its impact on my body. I love to open my eyes and pick out the different colours in a brick wall, or notice how the clouds look like dragons.

In the deep yet playful internal work of mindfulness, I remember what makes me tick.

I did have some real concerns about this practise before starting, however. First off…

Isn’t this all just a waste of time?
Now, I don’t believe so. Since starting mindfulness meditation, I have been less inclined to procrastinate and hibernate. Time wasting had become an unfortunate habit for me (a leftover from my student days) and I had almost given up on setting goals for myself as I never seemed to attain them. Procrastination is all too easy when WiFi is everywhere and my phone constantly pings with emails, texts and missed calls. I must admit, I still struggle with this. However, the impact that mindfulness has already had on this area of life is significant. Time put aside to focus on the present moment has a way of making me able to prioritise, with clarity, what I need to get done and what is most important.

My second major concern…

If I’m ‘zoning out’, won’t this isolate me?
I didn’t realise that I can also practise mindful listening! Now, I love to watch the expressions on speaker’s faces as they realise that I am fully present in listening to them – I see their eyes spark a little brighter, and hear their speech become more animated. Listening mindfully has the potential to bring about great positive change in our relationships. This is zoning in, not zoning out. “Thanks for asking,” and “I can’t believe you remembered that” are things that I am starting to hear more regularly from my friends and family.

My third and perhaps deepest concern…

Isn’t all this a bit self-indulgent?
Not in my experience. If we are truly alert to the world around us, then we are conscious of its many problems. Homelessness. Hopelessness. Dysfunctional families. Discrimination. Loneliness. When our minds are awakened to notice these things, our responses to life and living must surely be different. Mindful living gives us a certain responsibility – we cannot exist apathetically once we have noticed injustice. Less internal chatter leads to greater perception. The self- compassion that comes with by mindfulness flows naturally into a wider compassion for our communities and our world. I have come to realise that the true awareness offered by mindfulness is a surefire way to soak the world in love, create community, tell more authentic stories and bewitch the senses.

Yes, I do still have days where the tiniest decisions seem overwhelming, and staying in bed seems like a credible option. I sometimes worry about what the future holds. I occasionally zone out of conversations that are difficult. But I am learning, too. Learning to listen and to trust. Learning how to fully be in the present, with compassion and without judgment. Finally, I am on a journey which is nursing me back to a healthy and positive mentality.

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