I’m revisiting anxiety today – I think that I have 2 types of anxiety – my head anxiety which I wrote about near the beginning of the blog. My other anxiety is my gut anxiety – this is less frequent and less disruptive to my daily life but still not a lot of fun.
My gut anxiety tends to be late at night, sometimes just after Gill has gone to bed and other times when I am alone. It is a feeling of dread, some unspecified feeling of doom (my own Private Fraser moment). It starts in my gut and then seeps out to fill my body and sometimes, when it is bad, it wraps itself around me as well. Some times this can last for tens of minutes but more often a few hours and then it subsides.
My instinct is to lock it away and bury it in my emotional vault so that it can’t hurt me. But I am now being asked, as part of my therapy, to try and explore the feeling. Not to analyse the cause but to just let it rest and investigate how it feels to not bottle it up. Initially the answer was bloody scary. I have spent 50+ years using these defences to protect me from these emotions. But I’m now on the cusp of just scary so that is good. I guess I need to look forward to bloody uncomfortable, uncomfortable and finally acceptance.
Run Every Day – Day 15 – 35 mins
Dry, sunny and warm, late afternoon one of my favourite times to run in the winter. The dipping sun gives everything a warm glow almost autumnal rather than the middle of January. I’ve been at work this morning so I feel like pushing myself a bit harder today, just to get rid of a few work cobwebs. But not to the point of punishing myself. Looking forward to the time around 20 minutes in to tomorrow’s run, that will be the half way point.
As I run past the astroturf at Kirbie Kendal school there is a low lying mist across the playing field. The sun shines through from the other side and there are 4/5 football players walking back to the changing rooms, boots in hand, silhouetted in the mist and sun. It would have been a great photo but by the time I realise they have disappeared. Anyway I don’t do people, so you will have to make do with this tired old window frame on Capt French Lane.
Window – Capt French Lane
colin reynolds - music memories / mental health / living with a stoma 
I’m so humbled and in admiration of your courage and ability to write about these issues, Colin. It’s so hard to find the right words to describe how one feels – and I call myself a writer! I especially relate to the kind of anxiety that, as you describe, starts in your gut, seeps out into your body and sometimes wraps itself around you. It’s exactly like that. Thank you and keep writing. And running, of course. E
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