Annabel finds her happy place
(Picture: Getty Images)Enough. Enough of the dread and the shame.
There is a certain fast-paced flavour to city distress; the exhaustion and fear that drives us, like battery-operated toys with no soul. Vaguely wondering if there might be more, but largely thinking, ‘If I can get through this week then there is only one more week to go before I need to get through another week.’
I’m going to take you with me, over the next months, and we are going to try new things. Look in different directions. I used to storm through the streets. Now, after everything, I scuttle. Like a cockroach. No longer run by my old friend, Anxiety, but controlled by my new acquaintance, Panic. The Panicdemic.
I started with a Mind Massage from Lucinda Meade, a highly personalised blend of hypnotherapy, physiotherapy, acupuncture, breathing and wisdom. She offers tips to override the ‘We’re all going to die’ message your splintered subconscious sends your shattered nerves. Counteract the hyper-vigilance by zoning in on your peripheral vision. When we are stressed our vision narrows so, without moving your eyes, take in everything. It helps. And it’s discreet. You won’t look mad(der). Also, try The Physiological Sigh: a long sniff, a short sniff and a long exhale to slow the heart and stimulate the parasympathetic nervous system to nudge you away from fight or flight. Try them. The apocalypse will have to wait.
