I've just had a panic-ridden half an hour, trying to ascertain whether two of my friends were at the Berlin Christmas market at the time a lorry was driven on purpose through the busy crowds. I could have sworn I saw them tag themselves there on Facebook. 30 minutes after reading the breaking news from Germany, they confirmed they were okay. My heart rate is returning to normal.
It turns out they were going to go to the market, but they had a nap and didn't. Bloody hell.
This latest terror attack has happened a mere few hours after a rogue Turkish police officer shot dead the Russian envoy to Turkey and injured more in a "revenge attack for the atrocities in Aleppo." In between these two attacks, a gunman opened fire at an Islamic centre in Zurich, seriously injuring 3 people.
2016 really has been a terrible year, but with President Trump just around the corner, the very real possibility of a President Le-Pen and the continuing Brexit debate, 2017 doesn't look to be much brighter. All of this has, whether you like it or not, contributed to more hate crime and an increased sense of every kind of "-phobia" and "-ism" that exists.
Yet all of this horror gives me a sense of perspective. For all that has happened in 2016, much of which were terrible repeats of nightmares from 2015, nothing in my life has changed. How incredible is that? Thousands of people have come across the Mediterranean in wooden boats, others have been bombed to Kingdom come or spent the whole year sleeping in doorways in minus temperatures. Sure, I've had my scares, but to be in the same position I was at this time last year is a massive bonus. I haven't lost anyone. I've gained friends. When a lot of the world is going backwards, to remain in the same position, (I could argue I've progressed this last month or so), is actually a blessing.
Talking of the last month, my therapy comes to an end tomorrow. I'm deathly nervous; partly because I won't have that safety net from 4pm tomorrow and partly because the hour preceding that is going to be spent discussing the absolute depth of my inner most psyche. It was a slow start to the therapy, but as trust was mutually gained, I slowly and surely figured out my shortcomings and, in the spirit of this post, put them in perspective.
It's been a long journey since the days of Christmas mornings gone by, crying into my pillow, desperately not wanting to go downstairs. Being told that I've ruined Christmas because I didn't want to leave my bedroom. My thoughts, as ever, will be with a lot of people who find Christmas tough on their mental health. The constant, full-on yuletide can be emotionally taxing. The need to be on 100% happy mode, when you may not be able to reach 10%. I remember very clearly having to pin a post-it note to the other side of my bedroom door, 5 years ago, begging my family to leave me be until I was ready to come down. I felt awfully guilty for doing it, but it was necessary. I did the same the following day, missing out on a Boxing Day trip to the football with Dad.
Nowadays, I take some time out throughout the day to just re-gather my thoughts and emotions before re-joining the festivities. The whole Christmas thing still makes me feel a bit anxious. Will the presents be good enough? What if I come across as not thankful for my own? What if I don't want to play the crap Christmas games? A whole host of questioning goes on. For those of you in a similar boat, don't be afraid to retire on your lonesome for a period of time throughout the day. It will work.
