Do you agree that socialising feels different post covid?!

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love meeting people and I believe connection with others is a vital basic human need…

But, instead of the old me who worried about what others thought… the post-covid me is so much more aware of what’s going on in my nervous system and so much more authentic about what’s going on for me.

I was trying to think why this change has happened…

Is it a consequence of getting older?
Is it because I’ve studied lots of psychotherapy theory, which means that I’m so much more aware of internal reactions to external stimulus?
Is it because the pandemic reminded us of how mortal we are?
Is it because as a widow I’ve seen how cruelly short life can be?

Who knows!?

But, as I headed to London on Monday for a Milspo gathering of wonderful entrepreneurial business owners who are all military spouses, partners and other halves… I was overtly aware of what was going through my body and my mind.

Heading to London!

As I left my two gorgeous girls in the South West to head to the Big Smoke, there was a feel of anxiety in the air… they both know that 18 years ago I was evacuated from Holborn underground station (I was only train or so behind the heartbreaking 7/7 bomb)… it’s a well-known family story because it was my birthday. So, when I finally made it into work to call my parents, they were thankfully unaware of the trauma taking place at Liverpool Street Station. Meanwhile, I had been carried by the heaving crowds out of the underground in an atmosphere of pulsating panic out onto the street… where (in blissful ignorance of the multi-pronged attack) I made my way onto a bus to take me the last stretch into the City. I was blinkered by a trainee lawyer’s desire to work hard and prove myself as I moved against the epic tide of city workers who had decided to made the more sensible decision to flea for the safety of their homes.

Fast forward to the present, as I arrived at Paddington on Monday morning, memories flooded into my mind of endless trips to the South West to visit my Royal Marine boyfriend many moons ago. But this week, instead of heading to the usual Underground entrance in the centre of the bustling railway station… I took a right turn towards the shiny Elizabeth line. I inhaled a lung-full of heavy and muggy polluted air as I headed down into the depths of the new underground train route.

Connecting with my feelings

People may not necessarily believe it, but I get super nervous meeting people face to face. In contrast, I enjoy the comfort brought by the online disinhibition effect of our remote working… so, away from the safety of online platforms like Zoom and Teams, I could feel myself slipping into my fight or fight sympathetic nervous system. But on this occasion, instead of worries about whether I would actually recognise the Milspos face to face, despite them having become good friends online… I was on high alert for a different reason…. My eyes darted round, searching for puffy jackets, isolated bags… things that might signify danger.

My rational brain knew that I wasn’t travelling at rush hour, that statistically my few stops on the Tube would be thankfully uneventful… but every muscle in my body was telling me otherwise. As we moved through the tunnels, realisation dawned that I was still carrying trauma from the experience I had all those years ago on my twenty eighth birthday. That tragic day had happened just days before my wedding and only months before I would leave London for a happy family life on various married patches around the country.

*Memories flooding back at Liverpool Street*

I could almost feel my shoulders drop as I emerged into daylight at Liverpool Street station… yet the tension didn’t ease and I realised that I was still tense. My mind flashed back to the policeman I spoke to at rush hour on 7/7. The city copper who told me about the bomb on a train that I could have been on… had I left home just a little bit earlier that morning. I can vividly remember the yards of security tape around the station, the noise of the circling helicopters, the feel of panic, anxiety and danger in the air. The bomb scares during that day had us moving from side to side within our offices by Broadgate and it was with huge relief that I called my Royal Marine fiancé that evening as I returned home to my tiny one-bed apartment in West London.

As I wandered down Bishopsgate at the beginning of this week, so many other (thankfully happier) memories flooded back to me… of my times in London with work colleagues, of nipping out to the shops in a lunch hour, of planning my escape to the country with my fiancé, of chatting to a recruiter about finding a corporate role outside London over a sandwich, of dreaming about my new life with my husband in our first married patch home in the west country. But, noticing the tension relax in my shoulders, my attention switched to the empty ache that still resides in my heart, even now… seven years after my late husband died. The feeling of painful numbness that replaced those butterflies of young love, reminded me once again of how people can die of a broken heart.

Meeting the Milspos

A 5 minute detour down memory lane to see my old law firm didn’t make much difference to the typical quirky late arrival time at the impressive Amazon HQ building. The emotions of the journey were muddled up with tiredness from the early hour I’d woken, in order to have time to muck out our horses and drop children at school before getting my train! It was for all these reasons that I was overtly aware that my window of tolerance was narrower than usual that day, but I was comforted by the fact that I had planned to arrive late and leave early, so I could prioritise the most important thing in my world… my children. But, the catalyst to reconnecting with an air of calm confidence came from an unexpected meeting with another late and truly gorgeous Milspo. Having never met in person, we found each other in the reception area, thanks to the wonders of Instagram stories! And, our initial hugs, chats and photos reminded me of the person inside of me… the creator of Rainbow Hunting who’s passion it is to help others to find their own answers to the tricky emotions that are stopping them from living their best lives.

I’m currently in the middle of running my first ever Growing Life around Grief online live coaching course and part of the process sees me witnessing other people’s raw, honest and vulnerable emotions, as well as helping them to process what they have been through. A friend asked me last night how I manage this all… my own emotions, supporting my children through their stuff and then doing the job I do, helping and educating others about bereavement and the importance of Sadmin… I have often said that there are pros and cons to so many things, but one of the positive side effects of having endured trauma in my life is the ability to disassociate… to be able to set aside my own stuff (which I process later in my own time) and be there for others.

Heading home

After a great afternoon, I had no time to think as I chatted to two other lovely Milspos who were also rushing back to their homes as we travelled back on the sticky and crowded underground. At Paddington station, I snatched up a copy of the Metro and read about the devastation and loss of lives caused to innocent men, women and children by Hamas in Israel. I was reminded once again of the devastation of terrorism and war and I felt so heavily grateful for the accident birth that has resulted in me living where I do in the world. It is so heartbreakingly sad to hear about the victims of the shootings and attacks whose lives have been so brutally ended. Worries flit across my mind about what the consequences might be and how our country would respond.

These dark thoughts were in sharp contrast to the great afternoon of creative planning for our businesses and fun networking in the snazzy Amazon offices. But, it was on the train ride home that I started to work my way through everything that the day had brought up for me… with some huge breaths I started to relax into my more peaceful ventral vagal emotional state. As the countryside flew past outside the train window, I listened to what my body had been trying to tell me… I opened up my laptop and did one thing that helps me so much… I let the words flow out of my fingers into the word document in front of me… filling the blank page up with words made sense of my day and highlighted a greater understanding of myself.

Our local town train station seemed to arrive quickly and I was soon back driving my van on my way home. As I pottered down the country roads into a beautiful sun setting behind the dark silhouettes of autumn trees, I realised that, although I still get a buzz when I travel inside the M25… I could never live in that high paced city environment again. In order for me to thrive, I need to be in space, to have the luxury of breathing in the cleaner air and to surround myself with plants, trees, animals and birds, as well as the most precious thing of all, which is my family and our pets. Taking stock when I was comfy at home two things hit me:

I’m so grateful for all that we do have in our lives… the safety of home, the finances, the family and friends… much of which comes from the good Sadmin planning we always did and which I’m so keen that others do.
There is an extra layer of grief… behind the physical loss of the person… which relates to everything that they are missing out on experiencing as a result of their life being shortened… and as a result I write and talk so much about the importance of making the most of those Rainbow Moments… the glimmers of joy in our everyday lives.

Back in 2016, cancer took my soulmate, my best friend, my lover and the father of my children… and the grief will never go… but, I passionately believe that every storm eventually passes and we can all Grow Life around Grief… we can go searching for our rainbows and once again find the things that make our hearts sing.

Ways to connect with me…

If you feel inspired by this blog, please reach out to me via email: emma@rainbowhunting.co.uk. To hear about my courses and services, you can sign up to my newsletter, join the waiting list for my next Growing Life around Grief course and/or the Will Challenge and check out my One-to-One coaching… so you too can find the answers inside yourself that will heal your heartache and bring joy back into your life.