I had said I’d post about the one-year mark since being admitted into hospital. And I will.

I got side-tracked and, to be perfectly honest, a little lost, so I’m writing about that instead. It’s about my brain and my fitness and patterns I’ve found.

It’s a hard thing to write about weaknesses, especially when writing for an (assumed) audience. You don’t want to be self-pitiful in the lows, self-aggrandising in the recovery, naïve or silly. If you think you might do that, you’ll likely not post anything at all, if you can even bring yourself to write it in the first place.

There’s a certain performance to blogging. You’re sharing, but also choosing to do it for yourself, but know you’ll promote it. It seems weird to share stories of hardship for no other reason than to share them. I suppose I hope there’s something in here that will help someone, while I document my experiences for future Conor to look back on.

I’m sitting in the shop after close as I write this. This week has been a bit of a blur. I’ve been on auto pilot and my evenings haven’t amounted to much. (In my current life, that’s a real failure.) I feel like my head has cleared and I can function as normal. So now I write.

It seems strange looking back at the past 5 days (Sun – Thur) and realising an evening hasn’t passed where I haven’t had an anxiety attack. This isn’t something to glamourize. I don’t intend to big-up my triumph over this. After all, I write now because I hope I’m through to the other side for the time being. But this has been very unusual for me. I’ve not felt this powerless for nearly a decade.

Now, I know there will be some people that, as they read this, will say “Why didn’t you call me?”

When the shop closes and the lights go off, I am able to loosen off the mask of the performing businessperson/employer and relax into the exhausted twenty-something that is full of professional and personal doubt, platonic and romantic insecurities, and debt I can’t yet fathom. Really, I have merely the fears of any other person out there, there’s nothing especially frightening about my circumstances. For that reason I couldn’t bring myself to ask for help.

On Sunday last week I fell when I was out running. Not a massive deal, only that I left a chunk of my knee on the pavement and was left with a 2-inch hole across my kneecap. A pretty silly mistake – I had tied my laces, but my shoes are so buckled and old that they require a tighter tie, leaving a lot more lace hanging from my shoe than should be. I stepped on them when I was flying down a slight hill and tumbled at a junction. I had Brexit on my mind because the white van men around me didn’t even look as I dragged myself off the road, but a very friendly middle-eastern dude came and gave me a bunch of plasters and asked me if I was alright.

I couldn’t bend my knee at all, and it took 2 days to scab. I was limping around the shop as I ran out drinks and food, asking my co-workers to sweep up with the dustpan because I couldn’t reach, coming to work with no socks on cause it wasn’t possible to do it myself.

This shouldn’t have been a big deal really. I fell doing box jumps a few weeks ago and got a huge bruise on my thigh, but I could carry on as normal. I was a little proud of that shiner. The thing is, since I couldn’t bend my knee, I couldn’t run, squat, row, jump (and so couldn’t do pull ups either). I thought there was no point going to the gym.

And that doesn’t sound like a big deal either, does it? I’ve gone months in the past without proper and regular exercise. Earlier this year I joined the local CrossFit gym. I went from doing irregular and hodgepodge workouts to doing near daily strength, cardio and technique orientated exercise. My productivity went up, my sleep became deeper and more restful. I craved better food.

There’s a reason people make fun of CrossFitters. Like vegans, like activists, these groups want to share their way of life, their understanding of the world, because they think it is a better way to live. For a while I’ve thought that cardio was the key to balancing out my brain chemistry, which is why running has been my sport of choice. But, living the life I do, there’s a real benefit to being able to wipe myself out in an hour where I just need to turn up do what I’m told. I’ve seen slow progress in my physique, but I feel like I’ve come miles in the movements themselves.

Some anecdotes now:

I remember going through my first breakup and buying an Xbox. I couldn’t deal with the anxiety and self-doubt I was experiencing but had essays to write for my undergrad. I needed something to distract me, but also stimulate my mind. I knew, for financial reasons it wasn’t the best choice. However, for the time and the circumstances it got me through intact. It might sound like justifying an irresponsible spend, but I still revisit it to jump on multiplayer and blow off some steam. It’s not clarity, but it helps.

Back then, I had a 2-day rule. I could go two days without exercise, and on the third I must do something physical. If I didn’t the clouds would roll in behind my eyes and I’d lose myself for a week. A little dramatic, I know.

I believed, and still do, that there’s an imaginary bar that, if you can keep above it, you’ll make good decisions that have good consequences in your life. As you drop closer to the bar you may start to make the odd self-destructive decision, but you still have some autonomy to bring yourself back up and away from it. When you fall below it, you’re in trouble and more often than not you need help to get back above it.

This doesn’t just stand for mental health but just life and energy levels and diet etc.

I remember a day I ate a Double Decker and fell asleep. Sounds quite idyllic looking back at it, having the time to sit about and nap when I wanted. What’s funnier is I woke up and ate another one while watching TV. I fell asleep again.

I made lists of things I should consume when I felt my head dropping. I could feel it coming and knew I had to be proactive in disarming it. I always thought it meant I was missing something. I was desperate to understand my brain and my body so analysed my life for patterns and probably found some weird and wonderful connections that might have meant nothing. I remember a time I was convinced that if I didn’t eat onion my skin would get really spotty. No clue if it’s a thing.

Back to the now:

I know I can be unmanageable when my head drops. I know I can be hard to work with. I’ve never been good at keeping composure. But beyond being proactive, there’s not a lot we can do, is there?

While working 12-hour days, 6 days a week, and whatever is needed on the 7th day, you’re still maxing out well over the regular 40 hour work week that most people do. And in that, there’s no true day off, only a day to catch up. In an environment that you and the decisions you make are scrutinized and vocalised by people that you’ve never met, for no other reason than they happened to be popping by, there’s relatively little you can do but listen and see if you can be persuasive or learn something.

In a customer facing job, where I am representing myself and my business, I must keep composure. I must have gotten a little better at it because people still come for food and coffee.

This past week the door has closed at 5PM and I’ve collapsed onto the floor.

There was an unfortunate clash that brought me down last week, before I had hurt my knee. I suppose some of these things are bound to happen in life. Prompted by this, I had a panic attack and lost my mind for a while; thankfully I was rescued by a friend. I was still able to ask for help at this point, so I must have still been relatively close to the bar.

The trouble was that this clash remained present in some capacity, unresolved. Meaning it was a weight bringing me closer to the bar. Then I hurt my knee meaning I couldn’t exercise so I didn’t have the endorphin and adrenaline burst to lift me away from it. Add the regular financial stress of living and the high maintenance baby boomers that think nothing is worth what you want to charge for it, add a new staff member that isn’t up to the job and constantly fights every attempt at development before deciding they won’t come back one day, add romantic false-starts of modern dating, add the antisocial social networks that catalogue the wonderful life events of people all around you but no where near you, and that’s enough to drag anyone down well below the bar.

I spent evenings in a row in a dark room feeling sorry for myself, ignoring messages from people that love me, ignoring work emails, ignoring my dishes and washing, and was entirely convinced this was the way my life had always been and would be forever.

I remember the theme of community cropped up a lot when I studied Native American Lit in the States. I think it was to do with accountability. People had a responsibility to one another – to help one another and not fuck one another over. It’s that whole idea of the fleet going the pace of the slowest ship, and the slowest ship doing its damndest to go as fast as it can.

The reason CrossFitters want to share CrossFit is because there’s a community built around this shared thing. There’s comradery, accountability, and a shared goal: to understand better our bodies and be better versions of ourselves. (That might just mean to lift heavier things but that’s fair I think.)

Going to the Uni gym or Pure Gym I’ve rarely had a conversation with a stranger.

On Friday I got a text from one of the coaches merely asking how my knee was. That was enough to get me to walk down and say hello after work.

“You gonna do anything tonight?”

I hadn’t thought I would, but after he listed a bunch of things I could do without aggravating my knee I decided I might as well. The gym was empty by the time I started actually doing anything and I had the privacy to be as slow and unplanned as I liked.

I posted a picture that night on my Instagram story. I was topless at the gym and had no other context than to show some bare body. Now, I know what you’re thinking – I was looking for attention. I was. I’ve done it before and will do it again. I like documenting my slow change. But I also felt good about myself.

I had felt the clouds parting as I worked. My lungs were finally breathing oxygen instead of water and I could feel my heart racing. I literally felt this happen in the very moment. It was like a drug. I laughed aloud to myself because I couldn’t believe that the effect would be so noticeable and instantaneous.

The fact is, I had taken myself down to the gym, so maybe I was coming up closer to the bar anyway. It would be interesting to see on a chart the things that had affected me that day, and whether there were some other factors playing into this event.

You’ll maybe think this is an ad for CrossFit. It’s totally not. I’m living an unsustainable lifestyle and the only way to keep going is to go full pelt. I won’t be able to keep it up, but thankfully the shop is performing well so hopefully I’ll be able to pass over some responsibilities to other staff members and work a real work week with some real work/life balance.

To all those that have text me and haven’t heard a peep. I promise I will get back to you. Please be patient with me and don’t give up on me. I’m learning more about myself all the time and I hope I’ll level out as a normal person pretty soon.

In the meantime, you know where to find me…

 

Conor