Separation anxiety - not just for dogs

One of the few childhood memories I have from living with both my parents is me standing on my bed, looking out of my window, looking for my mam as I cried. I was holding and smelling her scarf. My dad had disciplined me for something with a smack on the leg and in my beautiful childhood naivety, I rubbed some sort of body lotion on the perfect, red hand print and hoped more than anything that she would come home and fix everything with a hug.

Around the same time in my life, every Tuesday night I would stay at my Nana's house and every Tuesday night I would cry after I was put to bed. I just wanted to go home. When I think about four year old me, I just want to hug her, because without any problem, I can summon up those feelings and I know exactly how it felt. It's hard to process now, let alone as a confused kid. But I don't know if it get's any easier.

In the year or so before I started with any treatment, I spent a lot of time alone. I stayed home a lot and I sat on my own a lot. This didn't bother me, it was my preference. I was invited out, I would make my excuses. I felt like I didn't have anything to say or more often, I just felt like what I did have to say wasn't important enough to be heard. I would shrink into the background, I would want to go home, I would want to be alone.

There are a lot of turning points for depression. Mine, without any doubt, was meeting my boyfriend. He opened up the world to me and I found myself out and about more than ever. Admittedly, it's often just the two of us, but I like it that way and we are probably too annoying to hang out with other people all the time. I do however find myself in way more group situations and socialising without problems (not always, I'm not perfect, I still have wobbles). But this awesome change has also had it's issues.

When I think of the term 'Separation Anxiety' I think of dogs. I think of them locked in the house all day, pacing and howling, while their owner is off enjoying human fun without them. It certainly isn't just for dogs though, this puppy knows that all too well.

Separation Anxiety isn't just missing someone. It isn't that you're mad that they have gone somewhere without you, that they may be, god forbid, having fun when you're not there. It is deep and uncontrollable feelings of dread, being so unsettled that you can barely concentrate, spontaneous tears and a downward spiral of thinking that can only lead to bad things. No wonder dogs howl.

No matter how unreasonable you know you are being, it doesn't matter. It can manifest itself if you are left for 5 minutes while someone goes to the bar or any time you're home alone all night. I don't think any part of mental illness is reasonable, so why should this be any different...

Brain: He's gone, maybe he won't come back
Me: What? Hold on... he's just gone to get us drinks...
Brain: Are you sure? What if he goes missing?
Me: Oh god, missing?
Brain: Yeah, I mean can you see him?
Me: No! Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!
Brain: Told you, he's gone...

Meanwhile, with stomach in knots and heart rate increasing, I begin to self comfort. My own personal mechanism is to hold my own hand, I clutch at my clothes (zips, cuffs, hems etc) and I bite my lip. Sure signs that I'm not ok. Just so you know.

Of course, he comes back with drinks, clocks my tell tale signs and comforts me. Nothing has gone wrong. No one went missing. Sometimes though, things like this do cause issue, it's inevitable. It can make you look clingy, it is a lot of pressure to put on one person. It's like you're saying "My happiness depends on you", of course that isn't the case, but when all they witness is tears streaming down your face because they aren't there, then it does suggest otherwise.

People don't want to be thought of as 'psychos', possessive or annoying girlfriends. That's not what it is about. It's not that you don't want someone to go and do their own thing, it's that you just sometimes cannot cope with the separation from someone who comforts you, who makes it ok. Incidents like this are few and far between these days, but there was a point in the relationship where I did really struggle to be alone (or more accurately, without him). Even if I was with others, the anxiety didn't ease, it wasn't company I needed, it was him. This sort of burden isn't easy, but I was always comforted when I needed it and hopefully I was understood.

Though I don't crave being alone like I used to, every now and again, time to myself is appreciated. I do though find that I seek to fill my time with people and I do prefer to have company. I don't necessarily mean that I want to be surrounded or to be somewhere busy, but to just have a friend over to visit is enough.

Being alone is neither the great comfort nor the distress that it has been in the past. It is just a state of being that I am (mostly) ok to be in. I know that nothing bad is going to happen and I know that it isn't the way to solve my issues. And although I am nowhere near being a pacing, howling canine when I am left alone, I can't deny that my imaginary tail starts wagging whenever my man walks through the door.

How thoughts spiral out of control (a cartoon)

Friends without benefits

I think it's true of any type of crisis you go through, that you learn who your real friends are. I have never had loads of friends, I am more reserved and it takes me a while to open up to people. Social anxiety doesn't help with this and it may come across that I am unfriendly or not interested. It's not the case, I'm just pretty terrified on the inside. Meeting new people is scary and starting up conversations is never easy. Who'd want to hear what I have to say?

Never the less, at some points in my life, I managed to convince people that I'm not all that bad and pluck up the courage to have more than one conversation that ultimately lead to a friendship. I would rather have a handful of close friends who I felt comfortable with, than hundreds of acquaintances who barely know more than my current Facebook status. I am happy with this friendship model. I am not the best at keeping in touch and I hate speaking on the phone, but the people I am closest to know this and never complain. I can see them after 6 months and it feels like it's barely been a week. These are the type of people I need in my life.

Having a mental illness does not stop at your own head, it has far reaching affects on the people you live with and those who care about you from a far. Neither is easy and it takes patience. Those people who live with mental health within a relationship (of any kind) also need to ensure they look after themselves and take time to look after their own brain too. I am lucky enough to have support from almost all corners of my life. I am able to talk honestly about how I feel and what is going on and know that I am supported.

Unfortunately, sometimes people aren't always so understanding and they take it almost as a personal insult to them that you are depressed. The fact that you were unable to tell them when you were at your lowest seems to annoy them, they don't understand how you could possibly be sad when they are around. They muse about how they clearly weren't a good enough friend to you and so it must be something they did wrong. That's it! That's the reason you are so sad!

Joking aside, it's a very sad thing when you lose a friend over the chemical imbalance in your brain that you cannot control. But hey ho, as I said, the good ones stick around. It has been a beautiful revelation to me how many people have reached out to me, or have said that they too have a dark cloud and they have found comfort in what I have written here.

Life is short, rich, complicated and messy, you need to know that the people you have along for the ride are there for the right reasons. As harsh as it may seem, you need to know when to let go of relationships that are merely bringing you down. Looking after yourself is critical.

Friends are hugely important to me, they are my second family and as I live away from my family, they are my first point of contact when I need help. They are all special individuals, each offering me something different and looking after me in different ways. So this one is for you, my friend. You all know who you are and you all know how much I care. Thank you for never giving up on me, for understanding who I am and accepting me as I am.

A fine line between excitement and dread

I don't think I'm alone in feeling immense dread before events, outings, getting out of bed... For most people with anxiety, it can be really hard to look forward to things, rather than turning them into write-offs before they even happen. I can't help myself, I have such a terrible, negative outlook. I don't want to think that way, I just do.

As soon as an event is announced or I am invited somewhere, my brain searches for ways to get out of it. This could be a fleeting thought or could last for days or weeks, but I will think of any and every reason why I shouldn't do something. Most times, I know that it's just my brain, trying to trip me up, sometimes I find that really should have listened to my brain.

Whilst I usually know myself quite well, sometimes I try to outsmart myself and go out even though I don't feel great. Always a big mistake. Panic attacks often ensue, no one wants that. However, more and more, I am finding that I actually end up having a good time... I surprise myself.

I have almost coined the catchphrase "I don't get excited about anything" my long suffering boyfriend  mocks me for this as he has witnessed the contrary to this many times (keep it clean, I don't mean that.) I also have a terrible "I shouldn't try that new thing cos I'll be terrible at it" attitude which I am challenging often, and again, to my horror, I'm usually NOT terrible at said activity.

I am going on holiday this week (a fact that hasn't gone unnoticed by anyone within 1000ft of me as I've been mentioning it hourly) and for the first time in so long, I am completely excited about it. Full on happy, excited, bouncy and optimistic. It is beautiful, I don't know when I last felt like this. I almost don't feel like me. I haven't had any negative thoughts and I am not dreading one single bit of it.

People maybe don't understand why people wouldn't feel excited about doing things, but I really believe that there is a very fine line between excitement and dread. They are so intertwined, sometimes it's too close to call. My brain has, for once, settled on full on excitement. Though this may be intolerable for anyone within 1000ft of me right now, I don't care - I am happy, I am excited, I am going to have fun.

Keeping the weird in

Some days it can be a struggle to fake smile, to put on an act and go about your day and just be. But other days, I'm finding more and more, it's a struggle to keep in the weird. Maybe it's just me, but I have a feeling that we're all doing this to some extent. Some days I let it out a little. Those are some of the best days.

I guess I have always been a bit eccentric. I was recently described as "weird, but good weird" after meeting someone for the first time. I don't mind that, I think it's nice. I don't want to be normal. But I do wonder exactly how much good weird I am withholding from the world, and if I let it out, would I just be "weird weird"?

Certain things bring out my weird, such as caffeine. I am not good after a coffee. I twitch, make noises, move a lot, get really big eyes, perhaps do a dance. But I know the cause, and therefore avoid caffeine. No one wants a constantly bouncy, wide eyed colleague. Other times, it just comes out without a stimulant. I have wondered if these are manias (specifically, hypomania), it would be a fair assumption, I suppose.

Yesterday, for example, I found myself dancing across the office, making a high pitched noise. Wide eyed and waving my arms around. I have worked there for more than three years, so I am comfortable in my environment. Comfortable enough to let the weird out. But I don't even know if I'm in control of it.

I make a lot of noises, I let them out without knowing sometimes. But I also hold in many, many noises I would like to make. Squeaks, screams, songs. The more comfortable I am with someone, the more noises escape. I think that's normal? To be honest, I wish I could just let it all out, walk along the street making as many sounds as I like, talking to myself, singing along to the song in my head. Some people do that, but they are either called crazy or they are children.  I guess it sucks to be a functioning grown up.

I guess there is a fine line between being a "normal" person and being whatever the hell you like. People are not sure about those of us who don't conform, they are not used to honesty, letting go of inhibitions or aquatic inspired dance moves in the middle of the office. I think it's a shame.

So why are we holding back our weird? Is it to not worry other people? Is it because we are scared of letting go and being our weird and wonderful selves? Maybe it's because our weird is deeply buried and we aren't even sure about it our self. For me, I think it is just that it is suppressed by sadness, anxiety and worry so often that it sometimes forgets to surface. On especially good days, I embrace my weird and let it out for all to see, crab dance and all.

Is honesty always the best policy?

A few weeks ago I took some time off work to get my head in order and rest. I was hoping that when I went back to work, things would improve and I would get some further support. I had been very honest about what was happening and how I felt and had really believed that it had been the best course of action. I may have been wrong.

It has taken me a while to talk about this as, to be honest, I was actually very upset by how the whole thing turned out. It left me thinking, how honest should you be? Should we really have to keep our mental illnesses hidden for fear of making things worse with honesty? Who should you tell and who shouldn't you tell? Where is the line drawn?

I have always taken a very honest approach. I was upfront with my team mates and manager and I knew that the info had been filtered through to management etc. I have always been happy to talk to people about how I feel and how it could affect my work. Many of my colleagues have read my blog and have told me so, I imagine that some are reading it without mentioning it and I don't mind at all.

When I got back to work after my 3 days off, I was feeling very positive and ready to get back into things. Unfortunately, the meeting I had that morning didn't go as I had hoped and I was left feeling upset, let down and discouraged. I was asked to explain why I was feeling the way I was, I was told that I probably needed to increase my medication, I was mocked. I ended up in tears and barely able to speak.

I felt stupid for ever being as honest and open as I had. It hadn't helped me really, here I was feeling guilty for taking time off and feeling like I had to explain myself. If it was as easy as knowing why I felt like this, I wouldn't need three days off to get my brain in order. I felt angry and let down. Now I am in an awkward position of not knowing what to do from now on. Should I continue to be honest and talk about it all and ask for help or time when I need it? Or do I just shut myself off from it all and always say "I'm fine" when asked?

Of course the answer should be to carry on as I always have, to not let this beat me and to be myself, but I can't help but wonder how much trouble that will get me into. As soon as you let people into your head and have been honest with them, they feel like they are entitled to something. That they are allowed to question you, demand answers, give advice.

I am grateful that I have a job and am able to get myself here and that for the most part, I am able to get through the day without issue. I just don't know if I made a mistake by opening up, revealing something about myself that opens me up to be treated differently, maybe even unfairly. For now I am going to stick to the classic "I'm fine", we are all so well rehearsed with this line that no one will know any different.