LearnerMother, a blogger I really enjoy reading, often posts a "Silent Sunday" blog post. There are no words, just a picture. It's a beautiful concept that a lot of blogs seem to follow and whilst I suspect I won't be start doing it here on She-Goat, I was reminded of it when I started thinking about writing this post and thought it would be appropriate to mention given what I wish to write about.
My boyfriend is a great fan of Barnum Statements, and is generally very interested in cold reading and how people use it (be they psychics or Derren Brown.) These statements are things that sound very personal but actually apply to everyone. I think one example would be: I can often be a chatty person but sometimes I just need time to reflect and be by myself.
Allowing myself time to reflect is one of the most crucial solutions for keeping me feeling sane despite my long battle with depression. My boyfriend and I live (mentally) in different time zones - I'm early to rise and early to bed and he's the opposite. This gives both of us a few hours either at the start or end of the day to settle (we spend the rest of time together as we're both struggling with unemployment.) Don't get me wrong, I adore my boyfriend and selfishly dread when he goes back to work because I'm loving the amount of time we get to spend together but I love these few hours. I've always been a lover of silence (an only child with only my widowed working mother in the house) and delighted in it; noise flusters me and I get more on edge the longer a busy day goes on. These few hours offers me a reset button.
This causes problems occasionally. If I have a few days without that reset button getting pressed (we've had an early start to the day, visitors have come round, or I'm desperately busy trying to organise something mundane like our new house getting a bin delivered.) then slowly my depression wins, and I get more manic with stronger highs and stronger lows and the brain-crunching stupid paranoia sets in (my boyfriend snaps when I forget he's got a headache and put something noisy on, does he hate me? And other ridiculous questions.) and then the anxiety hits and everything is worth crying about and my nails are somehow all chewed even though I don't remember doing it and when did I start rocking?
But a few hours of silence and suddenly the world goes back to being beautiful. I can be antisocial to a fault and I really don't give a shit.