Anxiety on Your Mind: Caroline’s week

Welcome to Anxiety on Your Mind, the series where we explore the reality of living with anxiety. In this edition, Caroline Lambie, 55, a celebrant and coach from Scotland, shares her thoughts

Caroline Lambie as told to Fiona Fletcher Reid

I had hoped to start the week feeling relaxed because I’d just returned from a yoga retreat in Tuscany. I’d been away with a large group, mostly women, and that really helped my confidence. We were all relaxed with each other, and a residential learning environment suits me. You’ve got something to do as well as just small talk. I was myself, and it brings out my fun side.

But after having such a lovely time at the retreat, reality seems to come crashing down around me. I have ADHD, so I’m exhausted from all the masking, and I have two big deadlines, urgent emails to answer, and a messy house. I’m going out to see my boyfriend, my teenage son needs help with numerous complicated things, and suddenly I feel overwhelmed.

Working as an elopement and wedding celebrant in Scotland and a transformational coach alongside parenting means my life is pretty full. Because of my ADHD, my mind is always busy, but I’m also grieving. In January, my eldest son Sean died suddenly. He was 29.

I would like to think I’m generally not an anxious person. I have a positive demeanour; I look for what I have, not what I haven’t got. I’m present with people and in my life. I think worry is a waste of your beautiful imagination. But for a few months after Sean died, I was having panic attacks every day.

I get most anxious around my ADHD, especially the behaviour that comes with it. I have so many brilliant ideas in a day, and sometimes I feel I must act on them immediately. A strategy I have is a list called ‘brilliant ideas’. They can live there until I’m ready to look at them rationally. I also use mind maps, Trello, and timers. Without them, I can easily get distracted and forget what I’m doing halfway through a task.

Grief is exhausting. But sometimes rest just isn’t feasible. On the retreat, we spoke a lot about being kind to yourself and taking breaks. I couldn’t rest today, but I could be kind. That has been a revelation, because although I think of myself as kind to myself, in reality I often expect a lot. When I have anxiety, I say to myself: “You’re doing well. Keep going.” I physically pat myself on the back too, which might look ridiculous, but it works.

Instead of letting anxiety take over, I walk my son to school. He’s autistic and only goes for a couple of hours each day, so that routine has a big impact on our lives. I enjoy the walk and our chat. I’m so proud of him.

Afterwards, I potter in the garden for half an hour. That brings me the most joy and keeps me in the moment. In Scotland, when there is a rare pocket of sunshine, I run outside and sit in it immediately. By the afternoon, I’ve managed to calm my nerves.

By Wednesday, I make time for the things I know help me regulate. I have therapy, do yoga, and focus on my breathing. Just after Sean died, I did a meditation course, so I now understand how meditation affects the body and mind scientifically, which I find fascinating. If I feel anxious, I focus on my breath, a positive anchor, or move my body.

I also swim, cold-plunge, and go to the sauna two or three times a week. I always say I feel a hundred times better after a swim, a plunge, and sitting in the sauna. Movement is something I go out of my way to prioritise because I know it helps. I often think I’m in charge of my anxiety because I have so many tools. But the anxiety still hits, especially when I feel I haven’t finished things. If someone else sees the middle stage, they might only see the mess, not the vision. I know what power vulnerability has when you uncover it, but the urge is to hide it.

One of the biggest wins this week was cycling eight miles with my partner. I’m not that confident on a bike, but I’ve wanted to do it for years and never managed. Cycling with his support made me feel so happy. It was fun, and a massive achievement.

As the week goes on, I notice something else about my ADHD. I can have a whole article or business strategy appear in my head while I’m walking or gardening, then by the time I sit down at the laptop it’s gone. I can feel the pressure of the unwritten piece. I know there’s something there, but if I don’t catch it, I start to feel as though I’ve failed before I’ve even started. I’m still working on that.

By Friday, I decide to bravely go to a walking networking group, and I’m running late. I’m flustered and furious with myself for being late because it makes me feel chaotic. But I still go and catch up with everyone, and it turns out to be really positive.

One of the things I’ve struggled with since my son died is being around people who know about him. For months, I was nervous about speaking to them because I thought I would cry as soon as I mentioned Sean. But on the walk I have proper conversations with people who know, chat about him, meet new people, and feel really supported. It’s a lovely reminder that often the anxiety is in the anticipation. The event itself is usually fantastic.

By the end of the week, I’m reminded that I have lots of tools at my disposal. Therapy, yoga, gardening, walking, swimming, and time with people I love. It’s taken years to figure out what works, but I know that when I go out of my way to move my body or get outside, I feel relief from stress and worry.

Grief and ADHD aren’t things to fix, and I’m not trying to. I can meet both with a little more compassion. I don’t need to be perfect. I just need to keep showing up, be kind to myself, and remember that anxiety doesn’t generally tell the truth.