Cut yourself some slack if crisis is getting too much

WHAT is it about two in the morning that makes you want to bare your soul to strangers? In my experience, it is when toiling in these wee hours that many of us become more willing than usual to reveal something deeper about ourselves.

To disclose intimacies, exchange kindnesses and perhaps even declare passionately our true feelings for one another after divulging unabridged versions of our life stories.

Some such moments become peak experiences in our lives.

Times to which we look fondly back, if only to memorise that sense of deep connection and pure presence.

The time we laughed ourselves to tears. Consoled each other. Someone told us how they truly felt, and we reciprocated with a tender embrace.

Too often we chalk these moments up to the giddy ease and comfort produced by alcohol. We write them off as the rose-tinted half-truths of misspent youths.

But I reckon, if you locked two perfect strangers in a room for 24 hours without a drop of amber nectar in sight they would likely begin spilling their guts between the hours of 2am and 4am.

I say this because I am currently sat at precisely that time wondering where the hell the year went.

Last week, while at the gym, desperately trying to savour the time before its doors closed again, I almost began weeping.

Perched on the end of a weights-bench, my eyes just started tearing-up. I am still not sure why.

I was not upset about anything specific but found myself crestfallen in the very sanctuary to which I return frequently in my daily bid to keep familiar demons at bay. I was quite simply swept away by sadness.

Rushing abruptly home, sensing that only a hasty retreat would quieten the racing mind, I tried ordering some shopping online only to discover as I scrolled that I was deeply confused. Overwhelmed by a menial task I perform most days without thought. I did not know what I wanted, or even what I liked. My toes curled in my shoes, my frame tucking quickly inward like every sinew was being pulled from the pit of my gut.

After almost a year of feeling rather resilient in the face of all this, I found myself quite suddenly enfeebled. Nothing was wrong but something was not right.

A normal year is tough enough. This one could not have been farther from normal.

Looking back on what so troubled me that day, I realised it was the dawning realisation that we are still bang in the middle of this thing. It was all just too deflating.

If you aren’t feeling great today, or tomorrow, that is OK. Don’t make a value judgment on your own thoughts or emotions. Don’t attempt to label or categorise them. Just notice them as they arise and keep going.

There’s a balance to be struck between holding ourselves accountable and cutting ourselves some necessary slack.

Sometimes what we need is a brisk walk and a glass of cold water but all we can manage is a blanket on the couch and dosing gently off with a stomach full of take-away.

My advice this year is to do what you need to do.

Put your feet up, grab a refreshment and remember that if you are feeling as lousy as I’ve been then there’s always someone you can bare your soul to in the wee hours.