I wish I was normal.
You know, normal.
Like all the normal people out there, getting on with their lives.
The ones who are happy. Who aren't awake at 2am, catastrophizing, ruminating, imploring their mind to just be quiet.
The people who didn't spend their evening wondering how on earth they can continue to feel such a barrage of emotion.
Those who live their lives without the distraction of a constant cacophony playing as the soundtrack to their day.
Ah to be normal.
To be without the constant self doubt, worry, terror and hammering heart.
To feel on top of the world, right as rain.
To be normal. To never feel anything but OK.
They're out there, right? The normal people. I just haven't seem to have come across any yet...
Tuesday, 13 December 2016
Monday, 5 December 2016
May your days be merry and bright
I guess it's that time of year. Yknow, dark, cold, gloomy etc. We blame the seasons and the weather for our moods. It is of course a real thing but it's also the time of year where people have such unrealistic expectations of themselves and others. People feel an immense pressure to have fun, to be fun and to be OK. The anxiety inducing lead up to Christmas and New year is stressful for many. I know I have mixed feelings about it. On one hand, I love the lead up to Christmas; I like the decorations, the food, the time off work. But god, it fills me with a certain dread.
Unfortunately, around this time of the year, I've had a few problems in the past and it's like they haunt me (yes, I guess I'm visited by the ghost of Christmas past) I feel anxious for things that haven't happened yet, for the fun I'm expected to have and for the feelings I am supposed to suppress so that everyone has a good time. In all honesty, I'd like to go to bed on Christmas eve and surface again on 2nd January. That would do me nicely.
I know that a lot of people feel like this, it's not uncommon. I also know that even if you think you've forgotten some old feelings, your brain holds on to them. It remembers. It likes to celebrate the anniversary of something you'd rather not. So no matter how much you want it to be OK, sometimes you are simply powerless to its ways. That's not to say that you can't make new and better memories. It's just hard to remember that.
Must not forget to remember that you can make new memories.
Not the catchiest of slogans.
The cold evenings make me want to stay home on the couch more than ever. It's becoming almost impossible to motivate myself to go to the gym and my diet is obviously compromised mostly of beige, frozen food. So I'm doing myself no favours and I know it. But I just cannot find the motivation to do anything about it. Every morning I drag myself out of bed at the last possible minute. All plans of eating breakfast and walking to work are out of the window as I just make it onto the bus. The thought of doing something after work seems like a mammoth effort.
I feel myself slipping. I hear from a dark recess of my brain a call to just slip into a darker place. A place I've been before and a place where I can just shut myself away. It's tempting. I've fought it hard. I've got myself up and to work. I've contributed and I've coped. But the voice calls to me every morning and every evening. Come back. It's warm and fuzzy here. I'm worried that I'm running out of excuses in response to it.
For now, however, I remain part of the functioning, real world. Surrounded by twinkling Christmas lights and hope. Hope that new memories can be made and that I can stay in the light. Hope that expectations are low and understanding is bountiful. Hope that the coming days really can be merry and bright.
Unfortunately, around this time of the year, I've had a few problems in the past and it's like they haunt me (yes, I guess I'm visited by the ghost of Christmas past) I feel anxious for things that haven't happened yet, for the fun I'm expected to have and for the feelings I am supposed to suppress so that everyone has a good time. In all honesty, I'd like to go to bed on Christmas eve and surface again on 2nd January. That would do me nicely.
I know that a lot of people feel like this, it's not uncommon. I also know that even if you think you've forgotten some old feelings, your brain holds on to them. It remembers. It likes to celebrate the anniversary of something you'd rather not. So no matter how much you want it to be OK, sometimes you are simply powerless to its ways. That's not to say that you can't make new and better memories. It's just hard to remember that.
Must not forget to remember that you can make new memories.
Not the catchiest of slogans.
The cold evenings make me want to stay home on the couch more than ever. It's becoming almost impossible to motivate myself to go to the gym and my diet is obviously compromised mostly of beige, frozen food. So I'm doing myself no favours and I know it. But I just cannot find the motivation to do anything about it. Every morning I drag myself out of bed at the last possible minute. All plans of eating breakfast and walking to work are out of the window as I just make it onto the bus. The thought of doing something after work seems like a mammoth effort.
I feel myself slipping. I hear from a dark recess of my brain a call to just slip into a darker place. A place I've been before and a place where I can just shut myself away. It's tempting. I've fought it hard. I've got myself up and to work. I've contributed and I've coped. But the voice calls to me every morning and every evening. Come back. It's warm and fuzzy here. I'm worried that I'm running out of excuses in response to it.
For now, however, I remain part of the functioning, real world. Surrounded by twinkling Christmas lights and hope. Hope that new memories can be made and that I can stay in the light. Hope that expectations are low and understanding is bountiful. Hope that the coming days really can be merry and bright.
Saturday, 22 October 2016
Take less shit
I've been thinking.
OK that's a stupid thing to say because I think all of the time. 24/7.
Specifically, I've been thinking about the reasons behind my afflictions. Can I get to the root of them? Is there a root?
I remember my most memorable descent into depression, though I can't be sure it was my first. I was living in London, after uni. I had very few friends around and to be perfectly frank, I lived with a bully. He segregated me from my friends but refused to spend time with me. He called me names, belittled me, ignored me for days on end (which is quite the feat when you live in a studio flat) and blamed me for everything. I mean, everything.
I was made redundant and within a few weeks was told that the tiny, shitty studio we inhabited had to be vacated within the month. I had to flat hunt on my own in London with no job to speak of. I remember on the day I went to sign for the equally shitty studio flat I finally found, with no help from him, I was a shadow of a human. The woman looked at me with great concern and told me not to worry, I'd be OK. Would I?
I let that relationship ruin me for almost 3 years. It gave me my fabulously low self esteem, a huge aversion to accepting blame and a pure hatred of being ignored. I can look back now and point to elements of that relationship that explain why I behave as I do today.
Acknowledging that this absolute waste of three years is something that has contributed to my mental health is a helpful step in working out how to rebuild myself. I wish I could say that after that relationship I became stronger, more assertive and took less shit. I can't. But I plan to make that the case. I'm going to start therapy. I'm going to bring this to the table. I'm going to make it a goal of mine: Take less shit.
OK that's a stupid thing to say because I think all of the time. 24/7.
Specifically, I've been thinking about the reasons behind my afflictions. Can I get to the root of them? Is there a root?
I remember my most memorable descent into depression, though I can't be sure it was my first. I was living in London, after uni. I had very few friends around and to be perfectly frank, I lived with a bully. He segregated me from my friends but refused to spend time with me. He called me names, belittled me, ignored me for days on end (which is quite the feat when you live in a studio flat) and blamed me for everything. I mean, everything.
I was made redundant and within a few weeks was told that the tiny, shitty studio we inhabited had to be vacated within the month. I had to flat hunt on my own in London with no job to speak of. I remember on the day I went to sign for the equally shitty studio flat I finally found, with no help from him, I was a shadow of a human. The woman looked at me with great concern and told me not to worry, I'd be OK. Would I?
I let that relationship ruin me for almost 3 years. It gave me my fabulously low self esteem, a huge aversion to accepting blame and a pure hatred of being ignored. I can look back now and point to elements of that relationship that explain why I behave as I do today.
Acknowledging that this absolute waste of three years is something that has contributed to my mental health is a helpful step in working out how to rebuild myself. I wish I could say that after that relationship I became stronger, more assertive and took less shit. I can't. But I plan to make that the case. I'm going to start therapy. I'm going to bring this to the table. I'm going to make it a goal of mine: Take less shit.
Wednesday, 19 October 2016
Not just "a bit OCD"
"You could just slit your wrists."
"What's that?""Your wrists... you have that nice sharp knife in the kitchen."
"Oh, well, yes... I do, but..."
"Knife"
"I don't think I should..."
"Kitchen"
"I..."
"Wrists"
"Yeah, I'm ok thanks"
I had that conversation today.
"Wow, who would tell you to do that?" you ask.
It was me.
Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not suicidal right now. Yes, I know that that's confusing. Why would I think about slitting my wrists like that? The truth is, I can't control it. These thoughts pop up into my head indiscriminately and I can't stop them. They are not just about killing myself, but they are always unpleasant.
"Why don't you drown the bunny?"
"Step in front of that bus"
"Go and punch that woman in the face"
"They're laughing at you"
"He thinks you're an idiot"
"You bother people, no one wants to talk to you"
"Open the car door and throw yourself out"
The last one became a real problem for me, enough that I had to sit on my hands when I travelled regularly in a car.
This is OCD. A lot of people think that OCD is just wanting your house to look tidy etc and this isn't helped by a common notion for people to call themselves "a bit OCD". They're not "a bit OCD" they just have regular human traits and an enviable desire to clean their homes.
This is OCD. One version of it.
Mind describe obsessions as:
...unwelcome thoughts, images, urges, worries or doubts that repeatedly appear in your mind. They can make you feel very anxious.
You might find that sometimes your obsessions and compulsions are manageable and other times they are impossible to live with. They may be more severe when you are stressed about other things like work, university or relationships.
So far, I've been pretty good at arguing against these thoughts.
"Actually, my friend Henry gave me that sharp knife and he'd be mad as hell with me if I used it slit my wrists. So shut up." I know this for a fact, because he has told me this many times when I've told him about this specific, reoccurring thought. I picture his disappointment with me, it's enough.
I do feel like a bit of a prisoner to some of these thoughts. It is the bigger, more severe thoughts that I can reason with the easiest. The smaller, less vicious thoughts are actually the worst.
"No one likes you"
"Nothing you have to say is important"
"They're not replying to you because they hate you"
These day to day thoughts grind me down and just become commonplace thinking. Almost the norm. They follow me around and drag my confidence down. They are the voices that win. They don't have to shout the loudest to be heard.
But I am starting to argue with them. Not every time and I don't always win. But conversations are beginning. Questioning, challenging, disagreeing. I am also starting to realise that some of these feelings have not just been inside my head, I have had some negative experiences that often made me feel less than I really should have. I haven't always been treated as the person I should have been. I'm trying to turn that around.
I know and recognise that my thoughts are particularly bad at the moment as I have had quite a stressful time in the last month. I am proud of myself that I have gotten through the bad times without anything bad happening to me. That I have been able to push through the thoughts, which has been very difficult, as I have been suicidal at times.
I have found myself making the thoughts into real questions and asking other people:
"Am I bothering you when I message you?"
"No"
"Oh!" (In your face, thoughts!)
Whilst this doesn't mean that I immediately believe it, it's positive reinforcement for me and a validation that some things are just my mean thoughts. Hopefully, one day I will start to believe it. Challenging the thoughts is infinitely better than listening to them.
The thoughts are still here, but I'm doing my best to drown them out. Definitely them, not the bunny.
*When having suicidal thoughts, I contacted Papyrus - stay safe.
Saturday, 15 October 2016
Sweet nothing
So I read a blog post recently that really resonated with me. It was about having few close friends. About not having someone who will just message you asking "wanna come over?" About having friends, acquaintances, but no one who is just there to hang out with and do nothing in particular. About how it is difficult and bewildering to think about trying to rectify this in your 30's.
This hasn't always been the case for me. But currently, it is a painful truth. There have been circumstances that have lead me to lose touch with people. To be in much less frequent contact. But it can't be denied that they too, have let contact fall by the wayside. Getting older, life getting in the way, busy schedules, personal issues, simply losing interest.
I have had intense friendships that lasted for a short while, before I was pushed out, excluded and hurt when they decided that they were better off without me. I have had friendships that lasted for years and felt permanent, only for me to never hear from that person ever again once distance became a factor. People are fickle. People confuse me.
But I also have friendships that endure, make me feel loved and special and like I have a place. The fact that there is a distance between us means little. But, unfortunately, that distance does hamper things. If only I could click my heels and be where I wanted to be. I'd be on a couch, drinking tea with them every day. They know who they are.
Recently, I've tried quite hard to initiate contact, to ask people if they want to do something. Tried to fill my time with people, friendly faces and shared experiences. Not all of my efforts have paid off. I still find myself feeling lonely and, often, guilty for asking for people's time. But something is missing. I think it's that special ingredient in friendship... doing nothing.
Every time I see someone, we do something. I want to do nothing. Stupid as it sounds. I want that someone who wants to do nothing with me. Just sit. Just be. That's what I want. *
So, how do I go about meeting these people? These people who don't want to do things, especially. Are they out and about looking for me? Are they sitting at home doing nothing? Are they currently out with an acquaintance, doing things for the sake of it?
I mean, I'm not saying that I want to become a hermit, I don't. But I just want to find someone who is just happy to be and wants to hang out with me, just because I'm me. I want someone who will ask me to do something, rather than me feeling like I'm bothering people all the time. I don't actually remember the last time someone asked me to do something. That makes me feel sad.
Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm just not great friend material. Maybe I'm not fun and exciting enough. Maybe staying at home and eating pick n mix is old hat. I don't know. It could be because I haven't lived in one place for long enough. I seem to move every couple of years. I don't settle, I don't know anyone living around me. Maybe it's my anxiety. It could put people off and doesn't help me come across well. Maybe it's all of those things.
I will continue to reach out to people, despite the fact that I feel uncomfortable. I will continue to hope that they will reciprocate. I will continue to think the best of people. I have to.
As I slowly but surely recover from and maintain my mental health issues, I hope that I can do the same with friendships. Maintain them, watch them grow and ultimately, hope that they can become something special. And hope that we can reach the best form of friendship goals... Doing nothing.
Sweet nothing.
*I must say that I do have a best friend who would happily do nothing with me as often as possible, but we are separated by over 100 miles - I would just really like more people like this in my life - daily.
This is the blog that inspired me: https://anxiwarrior.wordpress.com/2016/10/08/billy-no-mates/
This hasn't always been the case for me. But currently, it is a painful truth. There have been circumstances that have lead me to lose touch with people. To be in much less frequent contact. But it can't be denied that they too, have let contact fall by the wayside. Getting older, life getting in the way, busy schedules, personal issues, simply losing interest.
I have had intense friendships that lasted for a short while, before I was pushed out, excluded and hurt when they decided that they were better off without me. I have had friendships that lasted for years and felt permanent, only for me to never hear from that person ever again once distance became a factor. People are fickle. People confuse me.
But I also have friendships that endure, make me feel loved and special and like I have a place. The fact that there is a distance between us means little. But, unfortunately, that distance does hamper things. If only I could click my heels and be where I wanted to be. I'd be on a couch, drinking tea with them every day. They know who they are.
Recently, I've tried quite hard to initiate contact, to ask people if they want to do something. Tried to fill my time with people, friendly faces and shared experiences. Not all of my efforts have paid off. I still find myself feeling lonely and, often, guilty for asking for people's time. But something is missing. I think it's that special ingredient in friendship... doing nothing.
Every time I see someone, we do something. I want to do nothing. Stupid as it sounds. I want that someone who wants to do nothing with me. Just sit. Just be. That's what I want. *
So, how do I go about meeting these people? These people who don't want to do things, especially. Are they out and about looking for me? Are they sitting at home doing nothing? Are they currently out with an acquaintance, doing things for the sake of it?
I mean, I'm not saying that I want to become a hermit, I don't. But I just want to find someone who is just happy to be and wants to hang out with me, just because I'm me. I want someone who will ask me to do something, rather than me feeling like I'm bothering people all the time. I don't actually remember the last time someone asked me to do something. That makes me feel sad.
Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm just not great friend material. Maybe I'm not fun and exciting enough. Maybe staying at home and eating pick n mix is old hat. I don't know. It could be because I haven't lived in one place for long enough. I seem to move every couple of years. I don't settle, I don't know anyone living around me. Maybe it's my anxiety. It could put people off and doesn't help me come across well. Maybe it's all of those things.
I will continue to reach out to people, despite the fact that I feel uncomfortable. I will continue to hope that they will reciprocate. I will continue to think the best of people. I have to.
As I slowly but surely recover from and maintain my mental health issues, I hope that I can do the same with friendships. Maintain them, watch them grow and ultimately, hope that they can become something special. And hope that we can reach the best form of friendship goals... Doing nothing.
Sweet nothing.
*I must say that I do have a best friend who would happily do nothing with me as often as possible, but we are separated by over 100 miles - I would just really like more people like this in my life - daily.
This is the blog that inspired me: https://anxiwarrior.wordpress.com/2016/10/08/billy-no-mates/
Thursday, 29 September 2016
Yesterday's you
I just found this letter that I wrote to myself to read on the day that I finished my antidepressants. It lifted my spirits a little. It reminded me that things change and things can always be seen from a different perspective. That today's you is not tomorrow's you or yesterday's you.
Wednesday, 28 September 2016
Finding the sunshine
Lately I've been really sad. Lonely. Empty. Down on myself. I have good reason, but god, it's tiring.
Exhausting.
I don't want to wake up with all the possibilities in the world open to me, only to realise that I don't feel like I have the strength in me to try.
Yes, I know... time. We talked about this. But in the meantime, I need to be able to talk about the hurt that is ripping through me. The sadness that causes me to cry in front of strangers and ultimately, how this takes away all of my energy.
The couch is becoming my new best friend. It's safe, it doesn't hurt me, in fact, it's the closest thing to spooning I've had in a long time. The couch is my new big spoon. HELP ME.
Last week I burned myself out trying to fill my time with meeting people. I didn't want to be alone, so I made plans. Lots of plans. By the end of the week I was broken. Pretending to be ok is hard work. This week I am trying to give myself more time to just feel. Perhaps not allowing myself time to just wallow wasn't the best idea. Hey, give me a break, I'm new to this heartbreak thing.
I'm starting to feel the physical effects of it all too. Headaches, aching muscles, chest pains. My body telling me to stop. Slow down. Take some time. It's ok. Today my eye twitched for the entire working day. It looked like I was winking. I looked like a pirate, or a pervert (depending on who you ask). All of these physical symptoms can't be ignored, this is hurting more than my feelings.
I need to sleep. To eat well. To get back to the gym and sweat it out. To find the motivation that will help me ride this part of the wave. Another wave will come, and I'll have to work my way through that when it does.
A good friend sent me this quote:
Exhausting.
I don't want to wake up with all the possibilities in the world open to me, only to realise that I don't feel like I have the strength in me to try.
Yes, I know... time. We talked about this. But in the meantime, I need to be able to talk about the hurt that is ripping through me. The sadness that causes me to cry in front of strangers and ultimately, how this takes away all of my energy.
The couch is becoming my new best friend. It's safe, it doesn't hurt me, in fact, it's the closest thing to spooning I've had in a long time. The couch is my new big spoon. HELP ME.
Last week I burned myself out trying to fill my time with meeting people. I didn't want to be alone, so I made plans. Lots of plans. By the end of the week I was broken. Pretending to be ok is hard work. This week I am trying to give myself more time to just feel. Perhaps not allowing myself time to just wallow wasn't the best idea. Hey, give me a break, I'm new to this heartbreak thing.
I'm starting to feel the physical effects of it all too. Headaches, aching muscles, chest pains. My body telling me to stop. Slow down. Take some time. It's ok. Today my eye twitched for the entire working day. It looked like I was winking. I looked like a pirate, or a pervert (depending on who you ask). All of these physical symptoms can't be ignored, this is hurting more than my feelings.
I need to sleep. To eat well. To get back to the gym and sweat it out. To find the motivation that will help me ride this part of the wave. Another wave will come, and I'll have to work my way through that when it does.
A good friend sent me this quote:
A reassuring message that says I am not alone in what I am feeling, it's not new or unique and I shouldn't worry that it will never go away. It will. One day I will feel that sunshine.
But the nights are getting darker and colder and the want for warm arms around me doesn't get easier to bear. The winter months bring sadness, quiet and emptiness. Can I hibernate until the sun comes back? Metaphorical or otherwise.
I wish I could end my post on a positive note, a call to action and a bid to find my sunshine in all of this. But I just don't have it in me right now. I just need to feel this and let myself get through it. One day I will be walking along the beach and feel that sunshine permeating every bit of me. One day, but not today. Just let me float through this winter, one day at a time.
Monday, 19 September 2016
Tick, tock
I know what sadness feels like. I've got that down to a tee. I'm well aquainted with anxiety, I'd even say I'm a professional. But what I was not ready for, what I didn't prepare myself for, was heartbreak. Good, old fashioned heartbreak. Feeling like my insides are on the outside. A constant gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach and a real, unrelenting pain in my chest.
You know when your stomach drops because you realise you've done something wrong? It's like that. But it doesn't let up. It's feeling lonely amongst friends. It's not being able to follow a conversation because your mind is not your own. It's waking up and remembering and wishing that you could forget. It's feeling lost and lonely and like you left half of yourself somewhere.
It's not wanting to be.
Suddenly, a lot of songs make much more sense. Suddenly, a lot of songs are impossible to listen to.
Time moves slowly.
Something funny happens and you turn around but no one is there beside you to share the joke.
You question yourself.
You blame yourself.
Kind words of encouragement come and go through your head, nothing more than background noise.
Yes, I will keep going. Yes, I am a good person. But tell me, how do I turn off these feelings? When does it stop? When will it stop hurting so much?
There is no real answer. The answer, as always, is "time".
Tick, tock. With every second it just hurts more.
Maybe it's not a broken heart. Maybe it's been removed all together. Maybe I'll never get it back. I'm not sure that I want it. It wasn't mine. It belonged to someone else.
I'm not sure I need it anymore.
Wednesday, 31 August 2016
A job interview
A job interview.
A terrifying prospect. So many triggers, so many things to go wrong, so many things to be considered. Where do I start?
First of all, I will set the scene. This wasn't the usual kind of new job interview, it was with the company I already work for. That should mean it is easier, right? I already know the people, I'm comfortable in my surroundings, I didn't even have to dress up smartly (yeah, I can be the casual bum I usually am at work!) But I still felt the kind of overwhelming anxiety that comes with a scary situation, the prospect of change and the very real possibility of making a tit of myself.
My confidence has never been high, and lately, after a few problems, it has taken a few blows. So to say that I wasn't very confident when I entered the room is an understatement. I could barely move in the hours leading up to it and no amount of going over the notes I'd made could convince me that I was prepared or qualified enough.
I was convinced I was going to have nothing to say or, even worse, have too many stupid things to say. I was scared I may cry. I was scared of looking stupid, sounding stupid, being stupid. I was worried that I wouldn't get the job, I was worried about the changes that would come with getting the job. I was worried about the unknown. I was worried.
So what happened?
I was terrified, but the nice thing was, I was able to say that. When I walked into the room, after making my standard jokey entrance (part sense of humour, part coping mechanism) when I was asked how I was, I very honestly said, "terrified". This was met with smiles and warm encouragement. I answered all of the questions put to me, but I could hear myself babbling, suddenly realising how horrifyingly boring my voice is, stumbling to get all the words I wanted to say, out. But I got them out.
It was a short and sweet meeting, a formality really.
I was unconvinced by the end of it. I continued to worry that I hadn't said the right things or hadn't said enough. I returned to my desk and remembered a hundred things I should have said. Better answers. Better jokes. A better comedy exit.
I just had to sit and wait. My stomach tangled with doubt and worry.
I got the job.
Me. Unconfident, scared me. Me, who always thinks that I am not enough, not right, not capable. Me, who is terrified of change.
The knot in my stomach untangled and I felt something all sunny and warm... Happy, proud, accomplished. The agonising doubt dissipated for once and I could accept that today, I was good enough.
I have a long way to go with my self confidence and remembering that nothing is ever as bad as I imagine it will be. But this is a big boost for me. I have a new, brilliant job. I have a (perhaps temporary) boost to my confidence and I have some exciting times ahead of me. I know that I also have a lot of worry ahead of me, I can't help that. But for now, I am enjoying this feeling.
Happy.
A terrifying prospect. So many triggers, so many things to go wrong, so many things to be considered. Where do I start?
First of all, I will set the scene. This wasn't the usual kind of new job interview, it was with the company I already work for. That should mean it is easier, right? I already know the people, I'm comfortable in my surroundings, I didn't even have to dress up smartly (yeah, I can be the casual bum I usually am at work!) But I still felt the kind of overwhelming anxiety that comes with a scary situation, the prospect of change and the very real possibility of making a tit of myself.
My confidence has never been high, and lately, after a few problems, it has taken a few blows. So to say that I wasn't very confident when I entered the room is an understatement. I could barely move in the hours leading up to it and no amount of going over the notes I'd made could convince me that I was prepared or qualified enough.
I was convinced I was going to have nothing to say or, even worse, have too many stupid things to say. I was scared I may cry. I was scared of looking stupid, sounding stupid, being stupid. I was worried that I wouldn't get the job, I was worried about the changes that would come with getting the job. I was worried about the unknown. I was worried.
So what happened?
I was terrified, but the nice thing was, I was able to say that. When I walked into the room, after making my standard jokey entrance (part sense of humour, part coping mechanism) when I was asked how I was, I very honestly said, "terrified". This was met with smiles and warm encouragement. I answered all of the questions put to me, but I could hear myself babbling, suddenly realising how horrifyingly boring my voice is, stumbling to get all the words I wanted to say, out. But I got them out.
It was a short and sweet meeting, a formality really.
I was unconvinced by the end of it. I continued to worry that I hadn't said the right things or hadn't said enough. I returned to my desk and remembered a hundred things I should have said. Better answers. Better jokes. A better comedy exit.
I just had to sit and wait. My stomach tangled with doubt and worry.
I got the job.
Me. Unconfident, scared me. Me, who always thinks that I am not enough, not right, not capable. Me, who is terrified of change.
The knot in my stomach untangled and I felt something all sunny and warm... Happy, proud, accomplished. The agonising doubt dissipated for once and I could accept that today, I was good enough.
I have a long way to go with my self confidence and remembering that nothing is ever as bad as I imagine it will be. But this is a big boost for me. I have a new, brilliant job. I have a (perhaps temporary) boost to my confidence and I have some exciting times ahead of me. I know that I also have a lot of worry ahead of me, I can't help that. But for now, I am enjoying this feeling.
Happy.
Thursday, 18 August 2016
One bad day
One bad day. That's all it takes. Just one bad day and it feels like it's undone all of your hard work. It doesn't matter how you felt yesterday. Today came along and smashed it all. You blame yourself and that just makes you feel worse... Why couldn't you just stay well? What now? Now that everything is ruined? Where do you go from here?
Truth is, you just get tomorrow. And maybe tomorrow will be fine.
It was just one day. One bad day.
Truth is, you just get tomorrow. And maybe tomorrow will be fine.
It was just one day. One bad day.
Yesterday was bad, but that doesn't mean today will be. Nor does it mean I am a failure. In fact, today is much improved upon yesterday. I am still here, I am still alive. So I'll let yesterday go. Accept it as just one of those things. Recovery is not a straight line. It is a winding path which will go up and down and lead me to places I hadn't intended on going. But I will get there eventually.
One bad day does not break me, though it may feel so at the time. One bad day just reminds me of the countless good days that preceded it and the many more that will follow it.
Yesterday, I reached out for help to HOPEline UK. They are a great service who can text you with help and advice when you are in crisis. Find out more here
Friday, 29 July 2016
Well done, me!
So I'm free. Completely antidepressant free.
I was hoping it came with fireworks, a party, maybe some cake. But it came and went quietly. So can I feel a difference? Without a doubt, I feel different. I am not the same person I was 2 years ago, when I was coasting by, not realising that I was wearing myself out and running empty. I am not the same person I was 1 year ago, when I was on the meds and battling my way through it. I have found my way and I have found my feet.
I have had a testing time in the last few weeks but I have been better than ok. I have dealt with things and I surprised myself at my ressiliance and the fact that I didn't slide back into a depression. I found myself starting to feel the onset of a panic attack and I talked myself down. I was alone and I did not want to descend into panic. I stopped it in it's tracks and I felt so good about it.
I have found my confidence improving and my happiness growing. I didn't think I'd get to this point and I certainly didn't think I could say that I did it on my own. It was all me.
A small and quiet celebration of being well.
I just wish someone had bought cake.
I was hoping it came with fireworks, a party, maybe some cake. But it came and went quietly. So can I feel a difference? Without a doubt, I feel different. I am not the same person I was 2 years ago, when I was coasting by, not realising that I was wearing myself out and running empty. I am not the same person I was 1 year ago, when I was on the meds and battling my way through it. I have found my way and I have found my feet.
I have had a testing time in the last few weeks but I have been better than ok. I have dealt with things and I surprised myself at my ressiliance and the fact that I didn't slide back into a depression. I found myself starting to feel the onset of a panic attack and I talked myself down. I was alone and I did not want to descend into panic. I stopped it in it's tracks and I felt so good about it.
I have found my confidence improving and my happiness growing. I didn't think I'd get to this point and I certainly didn't think I could say that I did it on my own. It was all me.
In all seriousness though, this really is something that you have to do for yourself. Relying on others is great but it won't get you to the other side unless you are able to stand up yourself too. I have learnt that other people's support is invaluable, but the real changes will come from yourself.
I don't often say nice things about myself, I have given myself a really hard time in the past, but I have decided that I am ok really. I have accepted myself for what I am and I think I'm doing a pretty good job.
A small and quiet celebration of being well.
I just wish someone had bought cake.
Monday, 11 July 2016
One less thing to worry about
I have less than a week left on my medication. It has been a long time since I made the decision to come off the Citalopram and though I knew I couldn't just stop immediately, I didn't expect it to take so long. Months. But here I am, in the final stretch, I can see the finish line.
The headaches have stopped and the unexpected bursts of anxiety have subsided, but I am still anxious. I cannot stop, I don't think it's possible. I mean, I am not anxious for no particular reason as much as I used to be. I am not sitting at my desk and a wave of terror washes over me and I can't pin point it. I know why I am anxious, I can tell you particular reasons - so does that make it better? Does knowing why make it easier?
I don't know if it does. When I am anxious for no particular reason, I can blame the anxiety. I can say god, I'm anxious just because I can't control this. When I am anxious because I am thinking of a certain thing or because something particular has happened, I feel like I am more in control. My anxiety is present because I can't control my feelings. If I could just stop thinking about that thing...
It's probably not fair to blame myself. But I do. Of course.
Anxiety is unreasonable. My thoughts are unreasonable. They make a good pair.
Knowing what makes you anxious but still not being able to prevent it from appearing is frustrating. It makes me feel ill equipped and silly. I'm sure that this is actually a more positive step. Knowing what your beast is makes it easier to beat, surely? It gives you reasons and something to focus on.
The trouble is, I don't know how to be less anxious. No amount of CBT, mindfulness or medication have succeeded in halting my anxiety. I think I just need to accept that this is how I am and all I can do is feel it, explain it and sit through it. There is no reasoning with it, it doesn't listen. It is an uninvited guest to my party, changing the music and spilling drinks.
Most people know that I am an anxious person. Some may say highly strung, but isn't that just a term for people who don't understand the underlying issues? They accept it when I tell them that I feel anxious. That I don't feel like doing something or I have been climbing the walls because I am anxious about them. They accept it because I am able to tell them the reason. So much better than saying I don't know. Reasons, explanations, they all make a difference.
I'm not sure what to conclude. I am anxious, but I mostly always know the reasons why. I can't stop it and I'm not sure I will ever be able to. I am trapped by it but hopefully people will be able to understand it a bit more because I can explain it better. A million feelings, thoughts and reasons swirl around my head and I can at least be grateful that I am much better at sorting and filing them than I ever was.
I guess that's one less thing to worry about.
The headaches have stopped and the unexpected bursts of anxiety have subsided, but I am still anxious. I cannot stop, I don't think it's possible. I mean, I am not anxious for no particular reason as much as I used to be. I am not sitting at my desk and a wave of terror washes over me and I can't pin point it. I know why I am anxious, I can tell you particular reasons - so does that make it better? Does knowing why make it easier?
I don't know if it does. When I am anxious for no particular reason, I can blame the anxiety. I can say god, I'm anxious just because I can't control this. When I am anxious because I am thinking of a certain thing or because something particular has happened, I feel like I am more in control. My anxiety is present because I can't control my feelings. If I could just stop thinking about that thing...
It's probably not fair to blame myself. But I do. Of course.
Anxiety is unreasonable. My thoughts are unreasonable. They make a good pair.
Knowing what makes you anxious but still not being able to prevent it from appearing is frustrating. It makes me feel ill equipped and silly. I'm sure that this is actually a more positive step. Knowing what your beast is makes it easier to beat, surely? It gives you reasons and something to focus on.
The trouble is, I don't know how to be less anxious. No amount of CBT, mindfulness or medication have succeeded in halting my anxiety. I think I just need to accept that this is how I am and all I can do is feel it, explain it and sit through it. There is no reasoning with it, it doesn't listen. It is an uninvited guest to my party, changing the music and spilling drinks.
Most people know that I am an anxious person. Some may say highly strung, but isn't that just a term for people who don't understand the underlying issues? They accept it when I tell them that I feel anxious. That I don't feel like doing something or I have been climbing the walls because I am anxious about them. They accept it because I am able to tell them the reason. So much better than saying I don't know. Reasons, explanations, they all make a difference.
I'm not sure what to conclude. I am anxious, but I mostly always know the reasons why. I can't stop it and I'm not sure I will ever be able to. I am trapped by it but hopefully people will be able to understand it a bit more because I can explain it better. A million feelings, thoughts and reasons swirl around my head and I can at least be grateful that I am much better at sorting and filing them than I ever was.
I guess that's one less thing to worry about.
Friday, 24 June 2016
Gym bunny
So I started to go to the gym.
I know.
I thought the same. The gym? As if. You'll never keep that up. You'll look like a big sweaty idiot amongst a load of glowing gym gods.
Turns out I quite like it. Turns out it helps. Turns out that there are no glowing gym gods in attendance. Turns out the treadmills have TVs on them.
There are many things I struggle with, committing to a hobby and doing physical activity are high up on the list. I have been swimming a lot but I have also been getting tattooed a lot. With each tattoo, I have to stay out of the pool for 2 weeks, so I needed an alternative. I talked to a friend at work and we came to the excited conclusion that we should try out the gym. It would cost no more as it was included in my membership, so what the heck!
The day came and we nervously got ourselves to the gym (well, after I navigated us there via a massage room and a door clearly marked 'No Entry') It was empty. Gloriously empty and quiet. We sweated away in peace and made full use of the TVs as well as loudly marveling at the rowing machine (it was full of water?!!) We exercised and it was..... good. We wanted to go again.
We have kept it up, we have been several times and we book in our next session right after. The thing is, the benefit I get from it isn't that I feel fitter, stronger or thinner. My mind is quiet when I'm there. I don't think obsessively. I don't ruminate or worry. I don't have countless hypothetical arguments in my head. I am just there. I am just me on a treadmill watching Neighbours. When I leave, I am tired but lighter. I feel positive and calm.
I can't say that I will keep it up, after all, I am lazy and the lure of other important activity may steal me away... sitting on couch, eating junk food, this fluff ball:
I know.
I thought the same. The gym? As if. You'll never keep that up. You'll look like a big sweaty idiot amongst a load of glowing gym gods.
Turns out I quite like it. Turns out it helps. Turns out that there are no glowing gym gods in attendance. Turns out the treadmills have TVs on them.
There are many things I struggle with, committing to a hobby and doing physical activity are high up on the list. I have been swimming a lot but I have also been getting tattooed a lot. With each tattoo, I have to stay out of the pool for 2 weeks, so I needed an alternative. I talked to a friend at work and we came to the excited conclusion that we should try out the gym. It would cost no more as it was included in my membership, so what the heck!
The day came and we nervously got ourselves to the gym (well, after I navigated us there via a massage room and a door clearly marked 'No Entry') It was empty. Gloriously empty and quiet. We sweated away in peace and made full use of the TVs as well as loudly marveling at the rowing machine (it was full of water?!!) We exercised and it was..... good. We wanted to go again.
We have kept it up, we have been several times and we book in our next session right after. The thing is, the benefit I get from it isn't that I feel fitter, stronger or thinner. My mind is quiet when I'm there. I don't think obsessively. I don't ruminate or worry. I don't have countless hypothetical arguments in my head. I am just there. I am just me on a treadmill watching Neighbours. When I leave, I am tired but lighter. I feel positive and calm.
I can't say that I will keep it up, after all, I am lazy and the lure of other important activity may steal me away... sitting on couch, eating junk food, this fluff ball:
But I am hoping that I can keep it up and be a good gym bunny. It already helps having a friend to go with and keeping each other motivated. To have someone to roll your eyes at in the mirror or congratulate each other on another episode of Come Dine With Me watched (obviously, I mean whilst exercising to the max)
Of course I am hoping that I will lose some weight as a result, that would be awesome, but for now, the benefit to my brain is good enough. I now have 4 weeks left of weaning off the medication and it hasn't been easy. My anxiety has been very high and I have suffered from headaches. I have definitely noticed a decline in this and I have noticed a change starting in me. I feel a lot more confident in myself, I am happy and settled. I never imagined I'd say it, but it is, in part, thanks to a treadmill and a sad but undying love of an Australian soap.
Monday, 13 June 2016
Panic
Panic.
Breaths get shorter, harder.
Air.
There is no air.
Breathe. Try to breathe.
Is that noise me? I can’t get air. I don’t know what to do.
Panic. I’m on the floor. I can’t move. Not yet.
I can only breathe in. Where is the air going? In. In. In. In.
I can hear you talking. I can hear your words. I just can’t answer.
In. In. In. In.
It must be over soon.
Gripping. Clutching. Holding. Slipping.
Hot tears. Dripping nose.
In. In. In. Out.
The world comes slowly into focus.
In. Out. In. Out.
Clenched fists loosen.
Air.
Finally.
Friday, 3 June 2016
You are not useful to me
Hello anxiety my old friend. I see you have come to stay for a while, though no one invited you. How long do you plan to stay? It's just that I don't really have the room for you. All the room in my brain is full, taken up by all sorts of things that I'd rather keep than let you push out.
I just don't think we should see each other anymore, you have such a bad affect on me. You cause my other relationships to breakdown, you make me feel bad about myself. In fact, you do nothing good for me. Not in this quantity. You are not the primordial fight or flight reaction that could save my life, you are not useful to me.
You are just worry. Needless, painful, frightening worry. You are the closing of my throat, the rise of terror from the pit of my stomach and the shortening of my breath. You are the racing, unhelpful thoughts that I can't control, that spiral into something out of proportion. You are not useful to me.
You are the reason that my smiles don't look real and the reason I have to tell myself to enjoy a moment. You are not the real me. The confident and loving me. You are the frightened, unsure shadow of me. The insecure and needy me. You are not useful to me.
You are the reason that I need to be comforted but am terrified to reach out. The reason I struggle to make friends and why I think I'm not worthy of them. You are not useful to me.
Please, let's take a break. A long break. I'm happy if I never see you again. You have plagued me for long enough now. Let me be, I just want to be. I cannot say this enough anxiety; you are not useful to me.
I just don't think we should see each other anymore, you have such a bad affect on me. You cause my other relationships to breakdown, you make me feel bad about myself. In fact, you do nothing good for me. Not in this quantity. You are not the primordial fight or flight reaction that could save my life, you are not useful to me.
You are just worry. Needless, painful, frightening worry. You are the closing of my throat, the rise of terror from the pit of my stomach and the shortening of my breath. You are the racing, unhelpful thoughts that I can't control, that spiral into something out of proportion. You are not useful to me.
You are the reason that my smiles don't look real and the reason I have to tell myself to enjoy a moment. You are not the real me. The confident and loving me. You are the frightened, unsure shadow of me. The insecure and needy me. You are not useful to me.
You are the reason that I need to be comforted but am terrified to reach out. The reason I struggle to make friends and why I think I'm not worthy of them. You are not useful to me.
Please, let's take a break. A long break. I'm happy if I never see you again. You have plagued me for long enough now. Let me be, I just want to be. I cannot say this enough anxiety; you are not useful to me.
Wednesday, 25 May 2016
Happy birthday, blog
So it has been a year since I started this blog. What have I learned? I learned that getting things out of your head is beneficial, writing it down is therapeutic and allowing others to read it is scary. I began the blog because I was sitting in my living room, alone and hysterical. I didn't know what to do and I needed to change the feelings into something useful. As time went on, I realised that I had a lot more to say and that even if no one was really following it, it was useful for me and a good way to vent, analyse and record my feelings.
My journey has been up and down and the subject matters have reflected that. I have always tried to be honest and open and to speak about things that were close to me. I don't know whether people have followed the posts or if I just get random interest from Twitter, but I do know that I have had almost 8,000 post views over the year and that, to me, is amazing. It may not be a lot to other people, but for me, knowing that what I am writing may possibly help someone to feel less alone, is brilliant.
As I continue my journey to come off my meds, I am experiencing difficulties as well as positives. While I may get headaches, tiredness and feel like my brain is being crushed and overrun with thoughts, at the same time, I also feel more emotionally stable. When I think about it, I feel like my depression has been turned off, but my anxiety has been amped up.
Anxiety is affecting me even more so than usual and I am finding it a bit worrying. My thoughts and worries race, my self esteem is rock bottom and my behavior suffers as a result. I don't know if this is because of the meds, I am hoping that it is and I'm going to believe that it is just a side effect and it will wear off as the meds do. I think I have to believe that.
Lately, noises have been really affecting me. Loud conversations, shouting, music, eating, all drive me to distraction and I can't concentrate. My misophonia is in overdrive and my thoughts are spiraling. In order to keep my thoughts away, I listen to music with headphones in at work. But the music can be very distracting and often makes my mind wander or makes it feel like it's caving in. Some may call that a catch 22. I try different types of music, sometimes I try just sitting with headphones in with no music on. I feel very unproductive.
But then I notice that I am getting a lot of work done. I am engaged and I know what's going on and what to do. So I know that this hasn't been the case all the time, I am making progress. I am capable. I have to notice the positives. I have to remember to give myself a break and a proverbial pat on the back. It is hard for anyone to remember to give themselves credit. I am no exception.
Though I know I have come a long way in a year (often by going backwards to come forwards again) I also know that I still have so much further to go. I have 8 more weeks of coming off my meds and therefore 8 more weeks of surprise feelings, symptoms, emotions and songs stuck in my head. This is the thing I was almost looking forward to - finding out what I would feel. Now I just need to wait and see if this is actually me or still medication me. Only time will tell, so here's to another year of ups and downs. I know I can handle it.
My journey has been up and down and the subject matters have reflected that. I have always tried to be honest and open and to speak about things that were close to me. I don't know whether people have followed the posts or if I just get random interest from Twitter, but I do know that I have had almost 8,000 post views over the year and that, to me, is amazing. It may not be a lot to other people, but for me, knowing that what I am writing may possibly help someone to feel less alone, is brilliant.
As I continue my journey to come off my meds, I am experiencing difficulties as well as positives. While I may get headaches, tiredness and feel like my brain is being crushed and overrun with thoughts, at the same time, I also feel more emotionally stable. When I think about it, I feel like my depression has been turned off, but my anxiety has been amped up.
Anxiety is affecting me even more so than usual and I am finding it a bit worrying. My thoughts and worries race, my self esteem is rock bottom and my behavior suffers as a result. I don't know if this is because of the meds, I am hoping that it is and I'm going to believe that it is just a side effect and it will wear off as the meds do. I think I have to believe that.
Lately, noises have been really affecting me. Loud conversations, shouting, music, eating, all drive me to distraction and I can't concentrate. My misophonia is in overdrive and my thoughts are spiraling. In order to keep my thoughts away, I listen to music with headphones in at work. But the music can be very distracting and often makes my mind wander or makes it feel like it's caving in. Some may call that a catch 22. I try different types of music, sometimes I try just sitting with headphones in with no music on. I feel very unproductive.
But then I notice that I am getting a lot of work done. I am engaged and I know what's going on and what to do. So I know that this hasn't been the case all the time, I am making progress. I am capable. I have to notice the positives. I have to remember to give myself a break and a proverbial pat on the back. It is hard for anyone to remember to give themselves credit. I am no exception.
Though I know I have come a long way in a year (often by going backwards to come forwards again) I also know that I still have so much further to go. I have 8 more weeks of coming off my meds and therefore 8 more weeks of surprise feelings, symptoms, emotions and songs stuck in my head. This is the thing I was almost looking forward to - finding out what I would feel. Now I just need to wait and see if this is actually me or still medication me. Only time will tell, so here's to another year of ups and downs. I know I can handle it.
Tuesday, 17 May 2016
Get stuffed
I have a stuffed dinosaur. I'm not ashamed to admit that, as a so called grown up, I have a stuffed toy who I hug when times get hard. That dinosaur has mopped up some tears, has been there when I had no one else and generally provided squishy hugs when needed. His name is Gary Best, here he is:
Now, Gary isn't my first (though I won't tell him that, I wouldn't want to hurt his feelings) there have been stuffed toys before him; an owl named Polly Darton, a kangaroo named Spencie, a ginger bear named H. They all served their time and have all been retired, given time to enjoy their latter years without all the snot and tears.
There is something comforting in having something to hug as you cry, when you feel low or even just when you are tired and grumpy. The psychology behind this is that it is a security object, something to give comfort and make us feel safe. In my darkest and hardest times, when I feel most lost, security is something that is beyond important. I guess I cling on to anything that will give me a glimmer of that.
When I am sleeping alone in a bed made for two, Gary Best is on hand to keep me warm, he is someone to direct my "goodnight" to and make me feel less alone. I hate sleeping alone (a complete 180 to how I used to feel a few years ago) and I struggle to sleep properly when I am on my own. Admittedly, he isn't the best at providing body heat, but he is better than nothing.
Some people may think it's daft, holding a stuffed toy in such high regard. I should grow up, move on, etc etc. But I am not alone. According to this survey, 35% of British adults sleep with a stuffed toy and don't seem to mind who knows about it. Whatever the reason they need theirs, there is one thing in common - a sense of comfort. They may remind you of home, of childhood or of someone you love. All good reasons to hug away. Gary Best was a Christmas gift from my boyfriend so the connection to him is there in the hugs.
Many studies show that hugs help anxiety, they lower blood pressure and trigger the release of oxytocin. I am a big believer in the fact that hugs make me happy. Sometimes I just don't feel right until I have been hugged. Whilst I would alway choose the human hug (from my partner) at times when that is not possible, I will take the dino hug.
So here's to all the stuffed animals, for their endless hugs that often go unthanked - go give your teddy a hug. I know you have one.
Thursday, 5 May 2016
In the driving seat
So it's been 2 weeks since I started on my lowered dose of meds and it hasn't quite gone as I thought it might. Nothing has happened. Well, nothing bad. In fact, I feel great. I feel better than I have in forever. My mind is clearer and the usual fog and noise have dissipated, leaving some peace. I barely know what to do with it!
Today felt like an especially good breakthrough. I was woken up early by a small person (my sort of step son? For want of a better word, I'll call him the Small One) and I instantly felt good. I didn't feel the dread of having to get up, nor did I feel groggy from a bad night's sleep. Hello energy! Where have you been all my life? The Small One and I got up, had some breakfast and watched cartoons. I got dressed and headed to the swimming pool, where I had a very refreshing non-stop swimathon before getting to work at 9am. NINE! Previously, I've been scraping into work at about 9.45am, having pressed snooze for an hour and a half. Today was different.
I listened to music. Actually listened. I didn't use it to drown out noise or try to mute my thoughts. I listened to it and enjoyed it and smiled. I may or may not have participated in some chair dancing. Don't judge me.
I worked. Actually engaged in and properly worked. I didn't find myself staring into space. My eyes felt open and my brain was quiet enough to concentrate. I didn't struggle, I didn't get frustrated and I didn't wish I was at home. I didn't feel inadequate.
I didn't have intrusive thoughts. I can't explain how good that felt. There was no one else sitting in my brain, commenting, complaining, causing trouble. I can't remember the last day where I wasn't plagued by these thoughts. Today it is like someone switched it off. Or it took a holiday. Either is good for me.
That's not to say I am not a little concerned about it. If it has taken a holiday - when will it be back? Was it an open ended around the world ticket or more of a long weekend in a caravan type of thing? When will it come a knocking again? Will it? I feel so calm and content and, dare I say it... positive.
I think it may be a combination of the change in meds, the fact that I am finally getting better after an 8 week chest infection, the change in the weather for the better and the exercise. I'm still not perfect. Obviously. I eat terribly and I barely have a minute to myself but I think I can honestly say I am happy.
I know this is a rollercoaster. I know it could corkscrew at any minute, but I also know that this time feels different. I feel different. This is a ride I am happy to be trapped on for a while, because for once, I feel like I'm in the driving seat.
Today felt like an especially good breakthrough. I was woken up early by a small person (my sort of step son? For want of a better word, I'll call him the Small One) and I instantly felt good. I didn't feel the dread of having to get up, nor did I feel groggy from a bad night's sleep. Hello energy! Where have you been all my life? The Small One and I got up, had some breakfast and watched cartoons. I got dressed and headed to the swimming pool, where I had a very refreshing non-stop swimathon before getting to work at 9am. NINE! Previously, I've been scraping into work at about 9.45am, having pressed snooze for an hour and a half. Today was different.
I listened to music. Actually listened. I didn't use it to drown out noise or try to mute my thoughts. I listened to it and enjoyed it and smiled. I may or may not have participated in some chair dancing. Don't judge me.
I worked. Actually engaged in and properly worked. I didn't find myself staring into space. My eyes felt open and my brain was quiet enough to concentrate. I didn't struggle, I didn't get frustrated and I didn't wish I was at home. I didn't feel inadequate.
I didn't have intrusive thoughts. I can't explain how good that felt. There was no one else sitting in my brain, commenting, complaining, causing trouble. I can't remember the last day where I wasn't plagued by these thoughts. Today it is like someone switched it off. Or it took a holiday. Either is good for me.
That's not to say I am not a little concerned about it. If it has taken a holiday - when will it be back? Was it an open ended around the world ticket or more of a long weekend in a caravan type of thing? When will it come a knocking again? Will it? I feel so calm and content and, dare I say it... positive.
I think it may be a combination of the change in meds, the fact that I am finally getting better after an 8 week chest infection, the change in the weather for the better and the exercise. I'm still not perfect. Obviously. I eat terribly and I barely have a minute to myself but I think I can honestly say I am happy.
I know this is a rollercoaster. I know it could corkscrew at any minute, but I also know that this time feels different. I feel different. This is a ride I am happy to be trapped on for a while, because for once, I feel like I'm in the driving seat.
Tuesday, 26 April 2016
Someone to share the last cookie with
I recently lost one of my best friends. He didn't die, he moved to Sweden.
I denied to myself that he was leaving right up until the minute I said goodbye to him in the street and we both shuffled away, in the same way we would have if we were just catching up later that week. Denial was easier, anything else may cause tears.
I knew it would be hard for me. This was someone I spent many an afternoon watching terrible films with, someone who allowed me to turn up at his door, crying and covered in snot and he would simply make me an under filled cup of tea and get on with it. It was pretty simple. We ate food, drank tea, Googled the most random things and we talked as and when it was needed. That's friendship. It asks for nothing and expects nothing, it's easy to take for granted.
Since he left, I feel that there is a void. A lanky, friend shaped hole that he left. Yeah, sure we can email and WhatsApp but it's just not quite the same. Humans need company. I do. I like to be in the company of others. I like small gatherings, I like to know the people I am hanging out with. I like familiarity, routine, comfort.
So I'm in a bit of a predicament. How do you make new friends? At the age of 33, where do I go to meet new people and form purely platonic, meaningful relationships? It's not easy. Whilst I have many aquaintances and some good friends, they all have their own lives and to be honest, some have just turned out to not be the people I had thought they were. Whilst I am happy to maintain and work on good friendships, I refuse to let people drag me down. If someone doesn't want to make an effort, that's their choice.
I worry that I'm too old to make friends, that I am too awkward, anxious and weird. I talk myself out of going to do things and I'm scared to put myself into new situations. Does that mean I'm being left behind? Is that what anxiety is taking from me? Do I need to go to groups and make friends with other anxiety sufferers? I don't know if this would be a good thing because they would understand and relate or if it would be a bad thing as it may encourage me to stick with a lot of my current behaviours. I guess I won't know until I try.
So out into the world of friendship making I go. Feeling like this but trying to appear more. It's all part of looking after myself, trying to surround myself with people who will help me to feel like me. I can't replace the people who aren't here anymore, but I can definitely try to find someone else to short change my cup of tea.
I denied to myself that he was leaving right up until the minute I said goodbye to him in the street and we both shuffled away, in the same way we would have if we were just catching up later that week. Denial was easier, anything else may cause tears.
I knew it would be hard for me. This was someone I spent many an afternoon watching terrible films with, someone who allowed me to turn up at his door, crying and covered in snot and he would simply make me an under filled cup of tea and get on with it. It was pretty simple. We ate food, drank tea, Googled the most random things and we talked as and when it was needed. That's friendship. It asks for nothing and expects nothing, it's easy to take for granted.
Since he left, I feel that there is a void. A lanky, friend shaped hole that he left. Yeah, sure we can email and WhatsApp but it's just not quite the same. Humans need company. I do. I like to be in the company of others. I like small gatherings, I like to know the people I am hanging out with. I like familiarity, routine, comfort.
So I'm in a bit of a predicament. How do you make new friends? At the age of 33, where do I go to meet new people and form purely platonic, meaningful relationships? It's not easy. Whilst I have many aquaintances and some good friends, they all have their own lives and to be honest, some have just turned out to not be the people I had thought they were. Whilst I am happy to maintain and work on good friendships, I refuse to let people drag me down. If someone doesn't want to make an effort, that's their choice.
I worry that I'm too old to make friends, that I am too awkward, anxious and weird. I talk myself out of going to do things and I'm scared to put myself into new situations. Does that mean I'm being left behind? Is that what anxiety is taking from me? Do I need to go to groups and make friends with other anxiety sufferers? I don't know if this would be a good thing because they would understand and relate or if it would be a bad thing as it may encourage me to stick with a lot of my current behaviours. I guess I won't know until I try.
So out into the world of friendship making I go. Feeling like this but trying to appear more. It's all part of looking after myself, trying to surround myself with people who will help me to feel like me. I can't replace the people who aren't here anymore, but I can definitely try to find someone else to short change my cup of tea.
Tuesday, 19 April 2016
Dear Brain
Dear Brain,
I know we have been together for quite a long time now and I know that for a lot of years, you have been in charge. I have let you make the calls, decide on how we should feel and what will upset us. You chose to take the hard route, to test us both and push us to our limits. You chose sadness and frustration, anxiety and worry, you got us both lost.
It's time for me to take the reigns, to navigate us out of this and let you admit that you got it wrong. It's ok, everyone gets it wrong sometimes, but I've had enough, you've had your turn and now it's mine.
Today I took the first steps to being med free and I will start on a reduced dose from tonight. I have signed up to the gym and will exercise and swim my way to endorphins (an endorphin dolphin?!!) as well as eating more sensibly and doing things for me. I am going to look after myself. I am going to put myself first.
I know you tried, brain, I'm not denying that, but there is so much I need to do and I have to do this myself. For the first time in so long I feel confident and positive that I can do this. I can get myself to a good place, a stable place and a more "normal"* place.
Don't despair, we can still be friends. You just need to take a back seat and focus on the more important things like breathing, repairing all the broken parts of me and of course, thinking up awesome made up song lyrics.
I will work on the wellness, positive thinking, happiness and quiet peace of mind. I think we can do this. I think I can do this. I have made the first move. I believe in myself and I want to be me, the real me.
Take a rest, dear brain, slow down and allow yourself to feel the things you've denied yourself for so long. It's ok, everything will be ok.
Lots of love,
Me
*Though using the word "normal" makes me squirm somewhat.
I know we have been together for quite a long time now and I know that for a lot of years, you have been in charge. I have let you make the calls, decide on how we should feel and what will upset us. You chose to take the hard route, to test us both and push us to our limits. You chose sadness and frustration, anxiety and worry, you got us both lost.
It's time for me to take the reigns, to navigate us out of this and let you admit that you got it wrong. It's ok, everyone gets it wrong sometimes, but I've had enough, you've had your turn and now it's mine.
Today I took the first steps to being med free and I will start on a reduced dose from tonight. I have signed up to the gym and will exercise and swim my way to endorphins (an endorphin dolphin?!!) as well as eating more sensibly and doing things for me. I am going to look after myself. I am going to put myself first.
I know you tried, brain, I'm not denying that, but there is so much I need to do and I have to do this myself. For the first time in so long I feel confident and positive that I can do this. I can get myself to a good place, a stable place and a more "normal"* place.
Don't despair, we can still be friends. You just need to take a back seat and focus on the more important things like breathing, repairing all the broken parts of me and of course, thinking up awesome made up song lyrics.
I will work on the wellness, positive thinking, happiness and quiet peace of mind. I think we can do this. I think I can do this. I have made the first move. I believe in myself and I want to be me, the real me.
Take a rest, dear brain, slow down and allow yourself to feel the things you've denied yourself for so long. It's ok, everything will be ok.
Lots of love,
Me
*Though using the word "normal" makes me squirm somewhat.
Friday, 8 April 2016
A weight on my mind
Someone recently told me that I had gotten fat. It really hurt. It felt like a kick in my obviously oversized gut, it made me feel embarrassed and ashamed of myself that I had let myself get to that state. I became very self conscious, more so than usual and I made all the usual promises to myself to sort myself out.
I had planned to join the swimming pool and gym in the New Year, but one thing lead to another and between breakdowns, illness and bereavements, I haven't got round to it yet. I had planned to eat better, but between breakdowns, illness and bereavements, I haven't got round to that yet either. In summary, I'm not doing so well with it all.
But I began to think, what was the cause of my weight gain?
Culprit number one, being in a new relationship:
Ok, so my relationship is no longer so new, but at the beginning, with all of those meals out, take away nights in and generally feeling all loved up, the fat piles on. Romantic strolls along the beach do not burn as many calories as you'd hope.
Culprit number two, lack of motivation:
I can't lie, I suffer a terrible lack of motivation. Just to get started. Once I'm off, I'm good. But getting started.... There are a million better things I could be doing. Such as... sitting... thinking... googling pictures of bunnies in fancy dress...
Culprit number three, desserts:
I have to take on some of the blame, it's not like I hardly eat, but I was never really a fan of desserts. Then I met my boyfriend and he had a terrible dessert based effect on me <insert your Spotted Dick puns as you like> and now I am a bit a of a dessert fiend. In fact, right now I'm thinking about chocolate brownie ice-cream...
Culprit number four, age:
Sad but true. Enough said.
Culprit number five, tired eating:
I eat when I am tired because I am grumpy when I am tired and eating makes me less grumpy. I am tired when my sleeping is bad, my sleeping is bad when I am sad, when I am sad, I eat, when I get fat, I get sad. Got it??
Culprit number six, meds:
Ah, finally one I can blame! A listed side effect of anti-depressants is weight gain. I guess it is one of the harder aspects to accept, especially for those with low self esteem. People don't look so sympathetically on it as they would if they saw your hands shaking or your tears falling.
Happiness is so much more than physical appearance and I know that, deep down. But that doesn't mean I am not looking forward to a possible weight loss when I stop my meds. Though I also know that I need to at least try to make an effort myself and not just expect miracles, I am holding on to a little bit of hope that with the bad side effects, some good may also come.
So I am basically looking for the motivation to eat better, start exercising and refuse desserts, whilst staying in love, sleeping well and giving up my meds. Easy!
I think I'll start on Monday...
I had planned to join the swimming pool and gym in the New Year, but one thing lead to another and between breakdowns, illness and bereavements, I haven't got round to it yet. I had planned to eat better, but between breakdowns, illness and bereavements, I haven't got round to that yet either. In summary, I'm not doing so well with it all.
But I began to think, what was the cause of my weight gain?
Culprit number one, being in a new relationship:
Ok, so my relationship is no longer so new, but at the beginning, with all of those meals out, take away nights in and generally feeling all loved up, the fat piles on. Romantic strolls along the beach do not burn as many calories as you'd hope.
Culprit number two, lack of motivation:
I can't lie, I suffer a terrible lack of motivation. Just to get started. Once I'm off, I'm good. But getting started.... There are a million better things I could be doing. Such as... sitting... thinking... googling pictures of bunnies in fancy dress...
Culprit number three, desserts:
I have to take on some of the blame, it's not like I hardly eat, but I was never really a fan of desserts. Then I met my boyfriend and he had a terrible dessert based effect on me <insert your Spotted Dick puns as you like> and now I am a bit a of a dessert fiend. In fact, right now I'm thinking about chocolate brownie ice-cream...
Culprit number four, age:
Sad but true. Enough said.
Culprit number five, tired eating:
I eat when I am tired because I am grumpy when I am tired and eating makes me less grumpy. I am tired when my sleeping is bad, my sleeping is bad when I am sad, when I am sad, I eat, when I get fat, I get sad. Got it??
Culprit number six, meds:
Ah, finally one I can blame! A listed side effect of anti-depressants is weight gain. I guess it is one of the harder aspects to accept, especially for those with low self esteem. People don't look so sympathetically on it as they would if they saw your hands shaking or your tears falling.
Happiness is so much more than physical appearance and I know that, deep down. But that doesn't mean I am not looking forward to a possible weight loss when I stop my meds. Though I also know that I need to at least try to make an effort myself and not just expect miracles, I am holding on to a little bit of hope that with the bad side effects, some good may also come.
So I am basically looking for the motivation to eat better, start exercising and refuse desserts, whilst staying in love, sleeping well and giving up my meds. Easy!
I think I'll start on Monday...
Friday, 1 April 2016
Med free since...erm... 2016
So I have made my appointment with the doctor. This is happening, I will be meds free. Well, there is still a while to go due to the fact that I could only get an appointment in three weeks time and obviously because I will have to be weaned off them; but woo, I'm doing it.
Having read up on the potential side effects when reducing and stopping your dose, (depression, anxiety, insomnia et al) I am still left wondering if I will be able to feel a change but I am looking forward to it. If that is the right way of expressing it. I think it is.
I am looking forward to med free me. Maybe other people won't be so welcoming, but I can't wait to find out what will happen. I found a useful page on the Mind website which explains it nicely, it lists the following possible symptoms:
To be honest, much of those are day to day aspects of my life. I'm confused again.
No matter, I'm going to do this and I'm going to find out. I'll find out how it feels and I'll find out how I feel. It is going to take longer than I would like, but I think it will be worth the wait.
Having read up on the potential side effects when reducing and stopping your dose, (depression, anxiety, insomnia et al) I am still left wondering if I will be able to feel a change but I am looking forward to it. If that is the right way of expressing it. I think it is.
I am looking forward to med free me. Maybe other people won't be so welcoming, but I can't wait to find out what will happen. I found a useful page on the Mind website which explains it nicely, it lists the following possible symptoms:
• flu-like symptoms• electric shock sensations in head• stomach cramps• dizziness; vertigo• crying spells• sleep disturbance• weird dreams• fatigue• sensory disturbance• tinnitus• movement disorders• concentration and memory problems• mood swings• suicidal thoughts
To be honest, much of those are day to day aspects of my life. I'm confused again.
No matter, I'm going to do this and I'm going to find out. I'll find out how it feels and I'll find out how I feel. It is going to take longer than I would like, but I think it will be worth the wait.
Tuesday, 22 March 2016
Losing the safety net
So I am thinking about coming off my meds. It has been about 16 months now and I honestly can't tell you if they make a difference to me. That scares me. How can I not know? If I took tablets to get rid of a rash, I would be able to clearly see if they were working. Shouldn't I be able to tell?
I know for certain that I am happier than I used to be, but then that could just be a change in circumstances. I know for certain that I still get very sad, anxious and low - but won't I always get that? I have this conversation with myself a lot. What is going to happen to me when I stop taking them? I can only assume that it can't be worse than the day I started taking them. It might equal it, but I got through that. So maybe it's time to try.
My doctor told me not to even consider coming off meds until Spring, as the dark nights of Winter were no time to lure in the black dog. Now, as Spring approaches, I am wondering if it really is the right time. I am scared of losing the safety net. Maybe my meds are keeping me at a certain level, not exactly better, but able to bounce back so much easier. What if I come crashing down without them? But does it matter? So what if I fall? I could just get back on the proverbial horse. Wouldn't I be better knowing?
It's so much easier said than done. I have never stopped antidepressants before. These were my first foray into meds. I have no clue. I hate change. I find it hard to make decisions. No one can tell me what to do and my experience will be completely my own. I'm on my own here, kid.
At the minute, I can always think of an excuse not to stop them: I have a holiday coming up, It's busy at work, I haven't been feeling well... There is always something. But I have to be honest with myself. I am the only one who can make this decision and I have to take action.
Making this choice is really difficult, but I think it is really the only way I can see what difference, if any, they are making. Though I might do some short term damage, the long term can only be benefitted by my little self experiment. I'm just hoping it doesn't go too wrong. Wish me luck, I may just need it.
I know for certain that I am happier than I used to be, but then that could just be a change in circumstances. I know for certain that I still get very sad, anxious and low - but won't I always get that? I have this conversation with myself a lot. What is going to happen to me when I stop taking them? I can only assume that it can't be worse than the day I started taking them. It might equal it, but I got through that. So maybe it's time to try.
My doctor told me not to even consider coming off meds until Spring, as the dark nights of Winter were no time to lure in the black dog. Now, as Spring approaches, I am wondering if it really is the right time. I am scared of losing the safety net. Maybe my meds are keeping me at a certain level, not exactly better, but able to bounce back so much easier. What if I come crashing down without them? But does it matter? So what if I fall? I could just get back on the proverbial horse. Wouldn't I be better knowing?
It's so much easier said than done. I have never stopped antidepressants before. These were my first foray into meds. I have no clue. I hate change. I find it hard to make decisions. No one can tell me what to do and my experience will be completely my own. I'm on my own here, kid.
At the minute, I can always think of an excuse not to stop them: I have a holiday coming up, It's busy at work, I haven't been feeling well... There is always something. But I have to be honest with myself. I am the only one who can make this decision and I have to take action.
Making this choice is really difficult, but I think it is really the only way I can see what difference, if any, they are making. Though I might do some short term damage, the long term can only be benefitted by my little self experiment. I'm just hoping it doesn't go too wrong. Wish me luck, I may just need it.
Friday, 11 March 2016
Seek treasures amid ruins
Sometimes I forget that it is an absolutely normal reaction to some situations to feel sad. I spend so much of my time battling against it and feeling bad for feeling sad that when a moment of genuine and very explainable sadness arrives, I sometimes find it hard to allow it to happen.
Last month I lost 2 grandparents. I was in the middle of recovering from a bit of a breakdown and not in the best place but I was moving in the right direction. That made it even harder to let the sadness happen, let it consume me and do what it needed to do. I fought it and went with the brave face approach. My mask crumbled on several occasions and the show only lasted so long.
I struggled to stay afloat at work and found myself in tears at my desk on more than one occasion. I had to go take breaks, remember to breathe, my thoughts over ran, my head spun and my heart hurt. I attended my Grandad's funeral at a point when I was much more able to compose myself. I read out a reading of a piece I had written myself and I remained calm throughout. It was a sad day and it was ok to be sad. We were all sad.
While I was home for the funeral, I also visited my Nana in hospital, she had suffered a stroke and was unresponsive. It was a matter of time. My Nana's death brought a new wave of sadness and I am not sure that my brain was happy to allow it. I think it blocked it out as best as it could, once again throwing on that brave face mask like a second skin. I went about my days, not quite feeling right but not allowing myself to feel what I should.
A couple of days ago I suddenly realised. My stomach turned inside out and I snapped awake. It hit me and I felt sad. I talked to my boyfriend about this and I talked about both of my grandparents. I allowed myself to think about them and tell stories about them and acknowledge that I am sad and it is ok. Since then I have felt better.
Losing someone, in any capacity, is a painful and sad. Each person will feel it in their own, unique way and each person will take their own path of dealing with it. For me, being able to acknowledge that they were justified, expected feelings, made it all the easier for me to deal with. I could let go of one aspect that was hurting me more than anything else - beating myself up for my feelings.
Though my Nana's funeral is next week and will undoubtably stir up more feelings of sadness, I know that it is ok and things will feel better soon. I look forward to hearing all of the stories people have about her, as I heard such stories at my Grandad's funeral. Hearing about the times when she was alive and beautiful and causing mischief will be just what I need.
One thing I know for certain is that neither of them would want me to feel sad, they would want me to laugh, to joke and to say something completely silly just because. That is what I will take with me and know that little by little, the sadness inside will turn into memories, smiles and stories.
Last month I lost 2 grandparents. I was in the middle of recovering from a bit of a breakdown and not in the best place but I was moving in the right direction. That made it even harder to let the sadness happen, let it consume me and do what it needed to do. I fought it and went with the brave face approach. My mask crumbled on several occasions and the show only lasted so long.
I struggled to stay afloat at work and found myself in tears at my desk on more than one occasion. I had to go take breaks, remember to breathe, my thoughts over ran, my head spun and my heart hurt. I attended my Grandad's funeral at a point when I was much more able to compose myself. I read out a reading of a piece I had written myself and I remained calm throughout. It was a sad day and it was ok to be sad. We were all sad.
While I was home for the funeral, I also visited my Nana in hospital, she had suffered a stroke and was unresponsive. It was a matter of time. My Nana's death brought a new wave of sadness and I am not sure that my brain was happy to allow it. I think it blocked it out as best as it could, once again throwing on that brave face mask like a second skin. I went about my days, not quite feeling right but not allowing myself to feel what I should.
A couple of days ago I suddenly realised. My stomach turned inside out and I snapped awake. It hit me and I felt sad. I talked to my boyfriend about this and I talked about both of my grandparents. I allowed myself to think about them and tell stories about them and acknowledge that I am sad and it is ok. Since then I have felt better.
Losing someone, in any capacity, is a painful and sad. Each person will feel it in their own, unique way and each person will take their own path of dealing with it. For me, being able to acknowledge that they were justified, expected feelings, made it all the easier for me to deal with. I could let go of one aspect that was hurting me more than anything else - beating myself up for my feelings.
Though my Nana's funeral is next week and will undoubtably stir up more feelings of sadness, I know that it is ok and things will feel better soon. I look forward to hearing all of the stories people have about her, as I heard such stories at my Grandad's funeral. Hearing about the times when she was alive and beautiful and causing mischief will be just what I need.
One thing I know for certain is that neither of them would want me to feel sad, they would want me to laugh, to joke and to say something completely silly just because. That is what I will take with me and know that little by little, the sadness inside will turn into memories, smiles and stories.
“Within tears, find hidden laughterSeek treasures amid ruins, sincere one. ” Rumi
Thursday, 25 February 2016
You are the universe in ecstatic motion
Lately I have been reading a lot of Rumi poetry and quotes. One of my favourites being this one:
I have also been attending a CBT group for improving low self esteem. It would seem somewhat that Rumi's quote is aimed at this endeavour. Don't belittle yourself. Don't be any less than you should be. Recognise that you have no real right to be here, yet here you are, making up part of this infinitely beautiful, confusing, tangled space that we claim as our own.
When I think about it like that, in those two simple sentences, I can see how I should feel. I shouldn't be ungrateful for the parts the universe gave up to create me. Someone else would have used these atoms to their full extent, yet here I am wasting them lying on a couch, eating biscuits and thinking about how much weight I've put on. Poor universe, I'm sorry.
I'd say in all honesty that the CBT isn't really going far to smash my crippling self esteem issues (I mean, you may have gathered that when I apologised to the universe) but it has given me a comfort. It is a group course and when I listen to other people describing how they feel and giving examples of their problems, I nod in agreement and feel a relief that it's not just me. There's comfort in familiarity and comradery, even if it is based upon our flaws.
Self esteem issues extend far and wide, as well as not quite feeling that you are the universe itself, it is hard to take compliments. Very hard. My toes curl sometimes even thinking about it. I have a strategy which goes like this:
Nice person: "I like your hair, it looks good today"
Me: "I like your face"
That is my default answer. It saves me from fumbling for words or saying something terribly awkward or from simply denying it and/or putting myself down. People usually laugh and they enjoy the (perhaps odd and not terribly true) compliment they get back in return. Instead of thinking 'wow she's weird and down on herself', they just think 'wow she's weird'. That's good enough for me.
It is very difficult to change your thought patterns, negative thinking and what is called predictive thinking can mean that you quite simply put words into other people's mouths (without them even speaking... oh see above for a lovely example of that) Assuming people will think you are stupid if you say something. Not wanting to go somewhere because you think no one will want to talk to you or sit with you. I don't think a 6 week course can stop these feeling in their tracks, it's just so ingrained into who you are.
The best way, as with many things, is to start with small changes. To start thinking maybe I do have something useful to say sometimes. Maybe some people do like me. Maybe I am not as bright a star as I'd like to be but I know that I am still shining, still going and still a part of the universe in motion.
Maybe one day I will be able to take a compliment, but for now, just know "I like your face", honestly.
I have also been attending a CBT group for improving low self esteem. It would seem somewhat that Rumi's quote is aimed at this endeavour. Don't belittle yourself. Don't be any less than you should be. Recognise that you have no real right to be here, yet here you are, making up part of this infinitely beautiful, confusing, tangled space that we claim as our own.
When I think about it like that, in those two simple sentences, I can see how I should feel. I shouldn't be ungrateful for the parts the universe gave up to create me. Someone else would have used these atoms to their full extent, yet here I am wasting them lying on a couch, eating biscuits and thinking about how much weight I've put on. Poor universe, I'm sorry.
I'd say in all honesty that the CBT isn't really going far to smash my crippling self esteem issues (I mean, you may have gathered that when I apologised to the universe) but it has given me a comfort. It is a group course and when I listen to other people describing how they feel and giving examples of their problems, I nod in agreement and feel a relief that it's not just me. There's comfort in familiarity and comradery, even if it is based upon our flaws.
Self esteem issues extend far and wide, as well as not quite feeling that you are the universe itself, it is hard to take compliments. Very hard. My toes curl sometimes even thinking about it. I have a strategy which goes like this:
Nice person: "I like your hair, it looks good today"
Me: "I like your face"
That is my default answer. It saves me from fumbling for words or saying something terribly awkward or from simply denying it and/or putting myself down. People usually laugh and they enjoy the (perhaps odd and not terribly true) compliment they get back in return. Instead of thinking 'wow she's weird and down on herself', they just think 'wow she's weird'. That's good enough for me.
It is very difficult to change your thought patterns, negative thinking and what is called predictive thinking can mean that you quite simply put words into other people's mouths (without them even speaking... oh see above for a lovely example of that) Assuming people will think you are stupid if you say something. Not wanting to go somewhere because you think no one will want to talk to you or sit with you. I don't think a 6 week course can stop these feeling in their tracks, it's just so ingrained into who you are.
The best way, as with many things, is to start with small changes. To start thinking maybe I do have something useful to say sometimes. Maybe some people do like me. Maybe I am not as bright a star as I'd like to be but I know that I am still shining, still going and still a part of the universe in motion.
Maybe one day I will be able to take a compliment, but for now, just know "I like your face", honestly.
Wednesday, 27 January 2016
Own goal
Every now and again, my brain checks in on me to ask a certain question: "Would killing yourself help?" It doesn't matter what the situation is, this question pops up like an uninvited guest. It doesn't just happen at moments of low mood and it doesn't even mean that I am feeling unhappy, it is just something that appears. Like having an annoying, repetetive song stuck in your head.
I don't know how common this is. It's not the sort of thing people tend to discuss.
Obviously, there are days when I am at such a low point that I think these things for myself. I don't need my brain to ask me if it would be a solution. I think to myself how it could be an answer. I always conclude that it isn't. It is becoming a less desirable thought to me. I used to stand just a little too close to the side of the train track or road. I used to entertain the thought so much more.
I have had many a discussion about suicide, about all facets and from many points of views. I can honestly say that I know that it is not an option for me. I understand why it feels like the only option for so many and I understand why some people think it is a selfish and unforgivable act. I see it from both sides and choose not to take either.
In a recent round of CBT, each week I was asked the usual questions about my personal safety. The wording of a certain question really bothered me. When discussing suicidal thoughts, I was asked if I had made "any plans to reach that goal?"
Goal.
I wondered if I was just being sensitive. I asked several people. I wasn't. Whilst I appreciate straightforwardness and honesty, I thought that this term was just insensitive and misjudged. I think it could easily have been taken horribly out of context by someone who was in a much worse place. Maybe I am wrong, it just didn't seem appropriate and still doesn't.
Whilst I have come to a decision that I do not want to and will not end my own life, there are so many people out there who have to deal with the struggle every day. I only hope that they can one day see their goal as getting help, getting better where possible and finding a way to get past those feelings.
That is a goal worth striving for.
I don't know how common this is. It's not the sort of thing people tend to discuss.
"So, what have you been up to?"But for me, I don't find this so strange. It's just something that I think from time to time. It's like being asked by a Chugger if you want to give £5 a month to help homeless bees. Mildly annoying and your answer is almost always no.
"Oh, you know, wondering every now and then if I should kill myself"
Obviously, there are days when I am at such a low point that I think these things for myself. I don't need my brain to ask me if it would be a solution. I think to myself how it could be an answer. I always conclude that it isn't. It is becoming a less desirable thought to me. I used to stand just a little too close to the side of the train track or road. I used to entertain the thought so much more.
I have had many a discussion about suicide, about all facets and from many points of views. I can honestly say that I know that it is not an option for me. I understand why it feels like the only option for so many and I understand why some people think it is a selfish and unforgivable act. I see it from both sides and choose not to take either.
In a recent round of CBT, each week I was asked the usual questions about my personal safety. The wording of a certain question really bothered me. When discussing suicidal thoughts, I was asked if I had made "any plans to reach that goal?"
Goal.
I wondered if I was just being sensitive. I asked several people. I wasn't. Whilst I appreciate straightforwardness and honesty, I thought that this term was just insensitive and misjudged. I think it could easily have been taken horribly out of context by someone who was in a much worse place. Maybe I am wrong, it just didn't seem appropriate and still doesn't.
Whilst I have come to a decision that I do not want to and will not end my own life, there are so many people out there who have to deal with the struggle every day. I only hope that they can one day see their goal as getting help, getting better where possible and finding a way to get past those feelings.
That is a goal worth striving for.
Tuesday, 19 January 2016
No more, no less
Hold on...
I was going to say "normal." Nope, normal doesn't quite cut it.
"Like my old self" ...not really
I guess rather than being "more" something, I am just less broken.
I'll take that.
As I said in my last post, I won't be making New Year's resolutions, but I am trying to get myself into some good habits. I have started swimming again and brushed off the dust on my bike and ridden it several times (3 is several, right?) I am even trying to eat less junk. This one is hardest of all and I cannot promise that I will succeed. I have only just started with all of this so it is way too early to say if it is making any difference, but the very fact that I have even felt able to start these things tells me that I am going in the right direction.
One thing that has kept me on track, no matter how low I am, is my bunny. She is totally dependent on me and I think this is such a big thing for me. It doesn't matter how I am feeling, I have to look after her. She lets me hug her when I cry and seems to snuggle into me a little bit harder whenever I do. Maybe she is just scared of the noise, but I'm choosing to believe that she cares for her mama. Here is the fluff ball, she never fails to make me smile:
I was really shaken up by how intense the feelings I had over the last few weeks were and how it felt as real and as mind bendingly unreal as it could, all at once. At some points I wondered if I should go to hospital. Yet now, in the absence of those feelings, I wonder if I was just overreacting. Was I really feeling everything all at once? Were my head and heart really in such physical pain? The absence of a feeling can sometimes be just as startling as the feeling itself. Like when a noise ceases, you suddenly realise just how loud it was.
I guess it is just another way of being self critical. Denying (or at least, trying to) how bad a situation was. Maybe it is my brain's way of forgetting it, to brush it off and say "What? Those feelings didn't beat me! I am your brain! I am in charge here!" Either way, I am grateful that the moment has passed. No matter how many times you tell yourself that this is transient, you cannot help but feel at the time that it is most definitely permanent.
I decided a few days ago to start again and have my own New Year's Eve. My boyfriend and I had an evening out together and it felt like the beginning of a better time for me. I am discounting the last few weeks and grabbing onto my increasingly positive feelings. Things are already starting to look up and I have many reasons to be present and to keep a safe distance from the proverbial edge.
I feel less likely to slip, but I am no fool.
I just have to go with it and try my best. No more, no less.
Thursday, 7 January 2016
Breaking down is hard to do
The first blog post I wrote, back in May, was prompted by the fact that I had pretty much had a mini breakdown and had no idea what to do. Whilst things have been changeable over the last 8 months, I feel that they have mostly been up, but I have had my fair share of down. So when Christmas came around, I tried to prepare myself for the feelings and issues that the season can bring up. I had no idea.
To put it bluntly, over New Year I had a breakdown. A meltdown. I dissolved. I couldn't function. I was not well. I am coming out of the other side of it now and I finally feel well enough to start to be normal again, to clean my house, eat something and focus my brain - hence this post.
It has been an exhausting week, physically and mentally. At many points, I didn't think that I would make it through. I experienced severe and crippling anxiety, suicidal thoughts, restlessness, exhaustion, total loss of appetite, the inability to sleep, the desire to never wake up again and feelings of such hopelessness that I barely knew who I was. This has taken it's toll on me.
It all came to a head in a CBT session yesterday. I have found my latest round of CBT to be pretty useless. Some of the sessions have been, in my opinion, terrible. During one session I was told to "Just stop doing it" in response to some compulsions that I have. Not the best.
This week, I just couldn't pretend any more when I was asked the killer question "How are you?" I was done with holding it in. I had reached my limit of "being ok." Gah, I can't even take my own advice. I had just been "being ok" and holding in as much as I could around others. It had to stop.
After a very therapeutic descent into tears and hysteria, I was given some coping strategies and kindness. I mopped myself up off of the chair and I left there thinking that things could get better. I am starting to believe this more and more and today I have been putting things into action. I am trying to improve my routine, taking time to let myself have nice things and appreciating quiet time on my own. My brain is recovering and needs all the help it can get.
So although my start to the year was less than good, I am hoping that this will be a good year for me. I am not going to waste time with New Year's resolutions, I am simply going to try to be good to myself without any expectations or pressure. I am not there yet. I still feel like it could all come crashing round my feet at any minute. I am not silly, I know that I am not better. I know that maybe I will never be free of this, that it will follow me round, lurking the shadow, ready to rear it's ugly head at any occasion. The best I can do is know that I can get through these moments, I can see that there is always an end to them. A dim but real light waiting for me at the end of a long and terrifying tunnel.
New Year's day might have been one of my worst days yet, but it was just another day. It is no more significant than tomorrow or the next day and they hold all the potential in the world to be good days.
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