I am changing meds at the moment. It makes me anxious and sad. Things that are challenging anyway become much more so. A trip to the shopping centre causes sensory overload. Too bright, too noisy, too many people, too much movement. Things feel claustrophobic and like they are moving too fast. Before I moved here a strategy I used to employ to manage the less than stellar days was to email or message The Man I Am In Love With. It worked because it was a concrete way of reminding myself he was out there. It wasn’t dependent on his response, there didn’t need to be any, merely that he was out there was enough. I was at the shopping centre the other day. Feeling overwhelmed. I started to write an email to The Man I Am In Love With, to try to manage my increasing anxiety as I waited over half an hour for a taxi. Halfway through, when I couldn’t concentrate on what I was writing I decided to simplify matters with a text. So I sent off a little nothing text, and yes, felt better just knowing if I reached out I could touch him. Then my phone pinged with a text message.
It said “I am coming”.
I sent back a protest text; I wasn’t hinting or asking for a lift. I had no expectation of him dropping his work to come and rescue me from myself. Thank you but no thankyou.
Back came his text “I am coming.”
When I first started chatting to The Man I Am In Love With via MSN Messenger we touched on music. He liked music, he said, but he could take it or leave it. Then when I first started to visit and listened to him singing and got some idea of the extent of his musical range and knowledge I realised he may have understated the case but the only music I actually heard him play was occasionally in the car. Then the music in the car was played more often and I loved to listen to him singing along with his children.
A few months ago I sent him a stereo. It was before I knew I’d be living here and I had two, so sent one over. When I visited after sending it I usually used it for singing and dancing to with his excellent children when he was out. Three days ago I hopped out of the shower to hear the stereo going – I thought he must have left the house and his Daughter was playing it. As I listened more closely I realised I could hear him singing along. He has a beautiful voice, was head chorister as a boy. And the stereo was on, with him singing along. Yesterday he asked me to show him how to put it on, before again playing his cd and singing along at the top of his voice, and this morning The Man I Am In Love With turned on the stereo to play his music himself.
The times they are a changin’. Happy days.