Sylvia's Journal

I feel like I am on one of those fast trains like the TGV in Europe. I am getting so fast from point A to B that everything outside is a blur. When there is a stop, all I can see is a whole bunch of little creatures jumping up and down on the platform outside my window. They are trying to tell me something and it is not about wishing me a good journey. Instead they are yelling, “hey, what about us?” When you go off on a trip, especially a two–week trip, all the loose ends and unfinished stuff appear in front of you, asking for attention and completion. This is on top of getting ready for the trip.

And then there are the people, the ones around you that you love and care about. They too need attention. The stress of getting everything done makes me rather self-absorbed. I have to make an effort to acknowledge the things they are doing to make my life easier, like cooking and cleaning and doing the laundry. There is a risk that this act of acknowledgment becomes yet another task, adding to the stress.

There are a few proven ways to get off this fast train, such as writing in a journal, meditation, going for a walk, or any other form of exercise or yoga. Over the years I have learned that watching TV, drinking or smoking pot are not good ways to get off the train. These activities give the illusion of a break. Staying with the train metaphor, these are more like going to the bathroom on a train; at first it is clean but as you get farther and farther it gets messier and messier.

One of the challenges of any effective form of stress relief is to avoid that the activity itself becomes yet another set of tasks or appointments. The idea is the opposite: it has to trigger the quiet reflection that stops the train, for a long time, in a field with buttercups and daisies, and cows grazing lazily in the sun.

This morning, while on the massage table at Abi’s the tears started to come freely. Stress, from all its other side effects, makes me stop paying attention to the signals from my body that all is not well. I have been worrying about Axel who has been in a lot of pain lately. He takes medication for the pain that appears to have an effect on his ability to focus. He becomes forgetful, stuff, lots of it, doesn’t get done, especially the things that he considers important, like spending some quality time with Tessa before she goes away again. Depression is a tricky state; solutions that appear simple to someone who is not depressed are unsurmountable mountains ranges for the depressed person. Often I get irritated, then angry and this morning it was clear that I am also very sad. The state he is in is not of his own choosing. And so I find myself, on the day of my departure, immersed in strong feelings and torn between paying attention to those, or get back on the fast train that is my to-do list. The conductor is whistling frantically for the train’s departure.

Yesterday was like the day before yesterday; too full. I had four long conversations with various people in Ghana, each speaking English with a different accent. When you have to listen to accented speech it takes a lot more effort and energy than when you listen to someone who speaks like you do. After that I went from appointment to appointment: shoulder doctor, physical therapy, mind doctor (EMDR). Luckily the ankle doctor canceled the appointment. I canceled another appointment, a committee meeting in the evening, so that we could have our last meal together as a family, before everyone heads out again: I off to Ghana, Tessa and Steve off to Canada on Sunday and Sita off to Davos to scribe as the rich and famous discuss the world’s troubles at the World Economic Summit in a couple of weeks. Only Axel is staying at home all the time, like an anchor.