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by Laura P



Depression crept into my life. Like a glacier; steady and powerful, it hollowed out everything in its path. The force of it consumed me; it swallowed up my social life and stole all that I enjoyed. It dragged me down into addiction and self-harm, and ended up threatening my existence.

For a long time, silence was synonymous with my misery. Being still and quiet would mean drowning in negative thoughts and self-criticism. Panicking about everything I needed to do and all that is past and won’t ever change. I constantly distracted myself, with work, TV, sport, alcohol, whatever was easiest at the time. Anything to keep me from being present, from being in my own head.

Eventually I became a danger to myself, and I was admitted to a psychiatric hospital. Treatment was based on medication and a timetable of group psychotherapy sessions, CBT exercises and mindfulness practice. I managed to drag myself to the process groups, even if only to sit cocooned in a blanket on the floor and say nothing. I wasn’t willing to be helped. I didn’t think it was possible for me to feel better.

But gradually, the wall I’d built to contain my miserable little world started to erode. Very slowly, I started letting therapists in. I started to talk and share what was going on for me. I participated in group and engaged with other patients. There was just that one last piece of the therapeutic puzzle I had to fit in. Mindfulness.

Finding compassion for myself was the hardest part

Almost every time I shared something in group, I would be told that I needed to find compassion for myself. I wasn’t going to recover unless I could be with myself in my suffering, I had to find the will to be kind to myself.

The sad truth is that I was suicidal. I had a nurse with me constantly, day and night, because my psychiatrist knew that I needed to be protected from myself. That is a thoroughly desperate place to be. The future felt like it was rushing toward me, a tsunami of expectations, fears and anxieties. The only thing that offered any shelter from the onslaught of my own thoughts was mindfulness.

I’ll admit, when I first heard of mindfulness I thought it sounded ridiculous. To me, it was just another fad. I wondered how on earth sitting quietly and focusing all my senses of a cup of tea would ever help me. But after my therapist shared his experience of how transformative it was for him, I tentatively downloaded a mindfulness app. I had it on my phone for a couple of weeks before I tried it.

Daring to be here, now

I started with just a few minutes, using guided tracks to focus on taking mindful breaths, and the sensation of being in my body. And right from the first time, I found it enabled me to find a tiny bit of compassion for myself. Even if it was just being grateful for my able body, or how calming the air felt as it came into my nostrils. These small, precious moments came together to give me a new awareness of myself, of my ability to just pause and be.

I realised that far from the crushing loneliness of a sea of negative thoughts, being still and focusing on what is normally mundane could be beautiful. Examining the intricacies of a spider web or the pattern of veins on a leaf can bring enormous pleasure.

That is the magic of mindfulness for me. It’s not sitting silently and meditating, or making a mindful cup of tea, it is simply being aware and being here. Now. I could just lie on my bed and be. I could feel the fabric of the sheets, the coolness of the air in my nostrils, the gentle weight of my hand on my stomach, and simply observe. It taught me that I didn’t need to be afraid to be alone.

Mindfulness showed me I could be present, feel the physical containment of being in my body, in the way my own skin holds me together. That’s incredibly powerful when you generally feel like nothing is under control. It was to be the start of my recovery, the beginning of being able to master my flashbacks and dissociative episodes.

3 techniques for everyday mindfulness

As my practice got more regular, I started reading more about mindfulness and learning techniques to incorporate it in my daily activities.

Develop and deploy the ‘felt sense’

For many anxious people and sufferers of PTSD, whatever worries or triggers them feels very real. Flashbacks in particular take you back in time, you’re not here and now, you’re back in the experience that terrified you. Using my ‘felt sense’ enabled me to get a handle on this.

Most people find that developing their felt sense takes a bit of practice. This technique is about being aware of your body, really feeling what is going on for you physically. By using this mindful gauge, you can gain awareness of anxiety in physical sensations before it becomes uncontrollable. This means it can be intercepted before you’re fully immersed in the flashback or panic attack.

I learned that often the physical feelings of anxiety preceded the thoughts and the panic. I developed the ability to notice when my nervous system was becoming aroused, for instance, in changes to my breathing or when my palms start to sweat. That meant I could remove myself from a potentially triggering situation and calm myself before being overcome by panic.

Be a mindful animal

Since I was little, I’ve felt a connection with nature. I loved getting muddy, splashing in puddles, swimming in the sea and playing out in the snow until my extremities burned with cold. The elements didn’t scare me. This carried through into adulthood, my favourite time to go running is when it’s pouring with rain and I’m going to get filthy. I still charge headfirst into the freezing English Channel every summer.

In mindfulness, I can regain this joy of living in nature. Animals are the perfect example of living mindfully. By observing them, I find inspiration for my mindfulness practice. They are constantly present and sensing; they focus on the moment they are living in and are always alert and aware of their place in their environment.

I carry this image into my mindfulness practice. I use it to think about each one of my senses and tune into the sights, sounds and smells around me.

5 minutes of mindfulness that anyone can do anywhere

When I’m out and about, I can find it difficult to fit in being mindful. That’s where this 54321 exercise is perfect. You can sit almost anywhere and do it, and it only takes a few minutes. It doesn’t matter where I am; in a peaceful garden or a busy train station, this exercise always gets me grounded. Here’s how I do it.

Find somewhere comfortable to sit and take a few mindful breaths.

Notice 5 things you see. Focus on them closely, each in turn.

Pick out 4 sounds. Again, hone in on each one individually. Listen closely to them, isolating them from the other noise around you.

Choose 3 things to feel. These could be anything from the denim of your jeans to the smooth varnish on the wood of your seat. Focus on what each feels like, one at a time.

For 2, I either choose smells or tastes. These can be ones you’re experiencing currently, or those you have a strong memory of. So you could smell and sip your coffee, or remember the taste of something delicious you had for lunch. It doesn’t matter which, just choose two and zone in on them.

1 is my favourite. This is how I finish the exercise. After doing the four parts above, I come back to thinking of all my senses together, my body as a whole, and take one big, deep, mindful breath. It always feels fantastic!

Keep knocking…

There’s this great quote from the mystic poet, Rumi, that says, ‘Keep knocking and the joy inside will eventually open a window and look out to see who’s there’. This is pertinent to mindfulness, because it is a practice that has helped me reconnect with that joy that lives within every single one of us. It is so comforting to know that it is always there, it’s just sometimes we need help to access it.

Mindfulness has been a powerful tool in my recovery, because it has equipped me to rediscover a calming sense of control over my experience. When surrounded by a chaos of tumultuous emotions, I can use mindfulness to become grounded. Through this practice I can bring myself back to basics; knowing that all I need to do is breathe, be present, and recognise that eventually everything passes.

Read more from Laura here: http://www.blackspotsite.com.