Thursday the 10th of July, 10.30am, at the lake. Hot and sunny.
I hear horses, clip-clop clip-clop and a neigh but can’t see them yet. Because of how sound echoes around the lake I don’t know where they are, but I’ll take their presence as a good omen anyway.
I made it, and I loved it. All’s well again.
Because much time has passed.
Last swim: I thought a regulating swim to calm the dizziness, nausea, fatigue, muscle pain, foggy vision, and palpitations. On my way, just a few hundred metres from the lake I had a panic attack. My first ever and it was terrifying.
All I could do was pull over. 5-7, in-out, 5-7, in-out, 5-7, in-out …
I drove home without a swim. I’ve been in a state of dysautonomia since then until a few days ago. No swimming, what normally grounds and regulates, now a source of anxiety, even fear. Plus there’s been a heatwave and eight, EIGHT! wasp stings.
So now here I am. I’m healing, weather beautiful, schedule clear, summer stretches out, and I felt brave enough, strong enough, to come. Anxious of a panic attack, but I made it, I was fine.
Here I am.
On the little jutting out bit of land at the end past the frog pond, the scene of the pitbull incident years ago. I’m not so hidden, I can see and hear people in the distance, but I’m alone with a tree to sit under. While I write I’m watching fish flip; there are swallowtails dancing around me; mallard ducks, oh they are glorious things! I watch them fly over me.
I went in tentatively, into the heatwave warmed water, and soon I was afloat. Feeling the water move over my body, I’m so happy, pulling myself through. Undoing knots, feeling strong, trying to locate rib pain, but there is none. Just the warmth of the sun, the cool of the water, and me, looping around in safe shallows. Treading water to rest. Movement is my medicine. I have ADHD.
I’m now enjoying a fresh peach with a sweetsalty digestive biscuit.
All’s well.