Things Shall Be Some Way (and that's okay)

This beautiful quote came from Episode 5 of the second season of the brilliant Apple TV show “Ted Lasso”, and it resonated with me when the titular character spoke these words over a year ago; when I first heard them, it was a perfect analogy for the current and sorry state of affairs in my life at that moment in time. I had started to break down emotionally as the pandemic progressed, deflated by the isolation and an inability to pursue all the activities and plans I had retired for. Unbeknownst to me, the emotional disregulation of my lifelong but undiagnosed ADHD condition was about to cause me to tailspin out of control into a situational depression. The negative reactions didn’t flood in, but like the slow-drip of a neglected kitchen tap, filled my head with destructive thoughts and feelings that eventually drowned me in self-loathing and brought out behaviours that harmed me and those in my circle who endured or witnessed the spiral downwards.

Ted Lasso’s wisdom was one piece of the puzzle that I think saved me from myself. I had spent an emotional summer that I now realize was a godsend despite the tears I spilled at the oddest moments; in the sanctuary of my home away from home, I began to cobble together plans to write a new book, and being in Scotland at the height of a beautiful summer with some of my favourite people in the world inspired me to begin putting pen to paper for the first time in five years on a new project. Casual media ads and remarks about ADHD while I was there caught my ear and I realised it was time to seek a medical route to get clarity and assistance; like my family doctor, I recognised that my career had protected me with distractions and purpose, and that I needed help from professionals.

The deep, dark woods I got stuck in through most of the fall and early winter were frightening, and there were many days and weeks when I despaired of ever finding the way out to a clearing. What kept me going was the love, support, and protection of some great family and friends, and my innate stubbornness: I was determined to climb out and battled feelings of futility and despair, using my natural curiosity to immerse myself in books and podcasts to find the roots of my distress. I made the brave decision to sign up for therapy sessions and also requested a medical assessment; to my utter shock, I was able to find a fantastic counsellor within a month, though the diagnostic process would prove to be much more challenging and would not be fulfilled until June because of a huge backlog of people seeking help. As the dead of winter fell, I startled to unravel the yarn of childhood trauma that set me on the path of self-sabotaging behaviours and emotional blockages and to get the mental needles out to knit myself a better future. My beloved godmother died in California, and an emotional trip out west to sort out a complicated estate provided more clarity about hidden family histories and difficult issues. Healing is often painful and uncomfortable, and a lot of hard work, but I now know a year later that every moment of cringing regret and head shaking at myself was worth it because it brought me to this moment in time, to a place where I am no longer the insecure person who reacted how she did because it was what she learned from patterns established in childhood and consolidated for 40 years beyond it. There is something really empowering about the letting go of expectations, as Ted Lasso said so wisely, and just seeing where you land.

As a year-end birthday present, my amazingly perceptive sister had gifted me the “No F*cks Given” calendar for 2022, a lovely “one page a day” of advice and pointers to design what its author Sarah Knight called a “Fuck Budget” so that I could put myself first and begin to reassess my path out of the dark forest. She also gave me a little 5-year diary which I repurposed to write 5 “happiness bombs” for every day I was still breathing; seeing all the simple, beautiful things happening around me each and every day allowed me to appreciate just how fortunate I was, and helped me reframe my mindset along with the no-fucks guide. I started to include little but essential practices into my daily routine, including morning stretches, a change of diet, and visits to the pool to move my body and wash away any negative emotions. I traded the therapy books for my beloved crime fiction genres from the public library, found podcasts and music to cheer me up, and made sure I was out in nature regularly and cuddling our beautiful animals. I used knitting as a fidget toy because meditation is just not possible with my ADHD wiring, dug into my summer garden to reclaim some earthy joy, and most importantly, I had begun to consider my needs first and foremost. By the time my ADHD assessment was completed in mid-June, I could see the clearing just a few feet away from me at the edge of the forest. I had started to stand up for myself and ask for help, had set up some difficult but necessary boundaries for someone who had hurt me since I was a young child, and continued the decluttering of my physical and mental spaces by removing what no longer belonged in my life. 

I have figured out that less is more, and that I want to focus on things I enjoy and people I care about, and that it is important to surround yourself with what makes you happy. I have also fiercely clung to the better qualities that I feel define me, such as the optimism, generosity, and kindness I learned from and cherished in my father, but the difference now is that my behaviour towards myself and those I care about comes from love and not for love. I am not responsible for anything but being genuine and authentic in my interactions, and if others don’t like it or cannot share the values that are important to me, I will focus instead on those who will appreciate and welcome what I have to offer. This isn’t to say I don’t owe apologies to certain people for hurting them or being an idiot in the past few years, but those are conversations to have privately at the right time, when we are ready. The world has turned so many of us upside down since the pandemic that I feel that I’ve learned to have a better measure of patience, and the calm reassurance of my gut telling me that things will be okay if I trust the process.

And so I have come to a clearing, and the sun is shining above me as my feet feel the soft grass underneath. It’s not the end of the fairytale, for I believe that our lives are not defined by a singular story, but rather a collection of smaller chapters that we get to develop and write for ourselves as we change and adapt to the challenges and struggles we face. I really hope we can all find a way forward to being gentler, kinder version of ourselves, and that we will accept just how worthy we are of love and compassion from others, but more importantly, from ourselves.