mental health

I’m back bitches.

I neglected writing again. However, I have managed to keep a house plant alive for 2 weeks so, that’s consumed a lot of my time.

Firstly, let’s hit this off by saying, I think I’m okay hun. I won’t say I’ve been “living my best life”, which is all the rage these days. But I’ve been living A life (some of it blackout drunk).

Anxiety has been pestering me, that bitch constantly wants my attention, needy is not the word. But, BUT, I have managed it and live to tell the tale.

So here’s what’s been going down for this loco lady….

I’ve completed one of my three courses of therapy. This was talking therapy. A charity based therapy service with qualified councillors. I paid what I could afford each week (really what I could afford was paying in filter tips I find in the bottom of handbags but it’s not acceptable currency.)

Now, it has helped. I’ve recognised in my 26 years I’ve been through stuff many will hopefully never experience in their lifetime. And guess what I did with it all?! Never questioned it, never challenged it, never processed it. I accepted things as normal and felt the need to power on. Constantly striving to please people to avoid any upset to those around me. Never really saying “nah, I don’t like this.” (Unless it’s salmon, I do NOT like salmon, it’s not a thing.)

I’ve begun to acknowledge what’s made me the anxiety riddled small human I am. And most importantly, take steps to challenge that and my perceptions of the world, relationships and my own self worth.

For too long I’ve let situations niggle me, I haven’t spoken my true feelings or why I feel them. In turn this isolates me, I isolate myself. I resent those around me because I don’t feel what they feel. Not see the world through their eyes.

I’ve been crying out to have my opinion and wishes heard for so long and it’s fallen on deaf ears. I’ve been mothered and modi-coddled because of my inept persona. I’m clumsy, no common sense, little, cute, I need help with things. Well, no, no I don’t.

I’ve been told what to do and made to feel stupid by those I allowed to influence me. Be it family or a partner.

I’m a responsible person. They don’t let any one do my job. I’m caring, compassionate, opinionated, loud, and damn it I really do have my head screwed on. And it’s time some people recognised that, including myself.

The last month has been a whirlwind. I’m moving out on my own. It was a shock.

I didn’t anticipate it. But I got myself a new place. ON MY OWN. I’ve fought panic attacks about situations from “how will I disassemble a bed” to “what do I do when I’m alone in a new house with my irrational thoughts, will those thoughts win”. Truly one extreme to the next.

Really what I’m saying here is. I’m starting a new journey now. I’m scared. I’m excited. I’m “living my average life” and you can come along with me. If you fancy it. Belt up.

We’re gonna take a tour through millennial life. The rising prices of avocados, buying furniture, “upscaling”, alcohol, trying to get that bikini bod, and dating… yeh, dating. All with the under currents of an irrational brain.

Send help.

Anxiety, art, depression, mental health, Uncategorized

The fear of being disliked.

IMG_0889.jpgI know I’ve neglected writing these posts for a while, the way I neglect all house plants I have ever owned. However, I’m sure you’ll be glad to know I’ve been pretty busy. Went away on a caravan holiday (the one I got custody of, it also appeared the rest of my family got custody too because they all came.) I got sunburnt, I laughed, I got overwhelmed by so many people in one space I did one of my ‘disappearing to be on my own in bed’ acts, stroked a Donkey, the usual really.

I started therapy just over a week ago. My god I forgot how awkward that first session is. Sat there with a complete stranger. I always feel I just have to fill the silent pauses in conversation, even if I’m not with a therapist – I can’t stand the all-consuming feeling that if I don’t talk (usually complete utter crap), or if there is any silence, that the person I am with is just feeling awkward and thinking I’m boring.

I had to face some issues I never even knew I had in therapy. I naively thought after all this time with D&A (remember, I abbreviated them, to be cool) that I was quite self-aware. That I had at least some awareness as to why I think and feel the way I do about myself and others. I was wrong. I hate being wrong.

Now, all that was discussed will stay between me and my therapist. But it did get me thinking (probably irrationally as per) about my phobia of being disliked. Apparently there isn’t actually some fancy Latin name for this, disappointing. But, it’s something that’s sat festering in my head for years and years, producing a pungent smell of self-doubt.

I know I have hurt people, I have offended people, and I’ve damn right pissed people off. But, I really, really, never ever want to hurt anyone. I just crave everyone’s acceptance. Hell, I’d probably want Donald Trump to like me and he’s a grade A idiot. To the point of apologising to others when I know I’m not in the wrong. Letting people speak to me in a way that upsets me, but instead of letting my feelings known, I apologise or try harder to be liked. This is with people who don’t even know me. I’ve had relationships, and friendships that I haven’t been happy in. But instead of acknowledging that and walking away. I’ve tried harder, because I don’t want to be the bad guy.

But that never works. Because then it snowballs. I snowball. And people end up disliking each other through the process.

What I’m currently trying to learn. And hope others who feel the same as me should try hard to learn is that, people aren’t always going to like you. Everyone can’t like everyone. Some people, you just don’t take to. Simple as that. But with the anxiety eating away at you, telling you various reasons as to why you can’t be liked, it’s hard to see clearly.

There are plenty of people who do like you, and they will make that clear. So like them ones back, make them smile, spend time with them. Do NOT waste your time desperately clinging at the idea that you can make someone like you.

If they’re cold with you. Leave it. It’s not good for you, it’s not good for anxiety. And through the worst, you will learn the truth. Like yourself, make yourself like yourself, not like, love.

And fingers crossed, with all the support. Everything will fall together.

That’s my own prep talk mantra I’m desperately trying to live by at the moment. It’s difficult, old habits fie hard. But I’m determined.

I’ll leave you on a quote from one of the sassiest beings of all time:

If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else. Can I get an amen?! – RuPaul

Anxiety, art, depression, mental health

Blooming into the new (old) me

I know I’m not 100%. I know that those anxiety bouts get the better of me sometimes. Over analysing and I still remain BFF’s. I know I’ll have to manage this all my life. 9 years with it feels like a lifetime, like watching anything with Piers Morgan on.

But somethings happened. Through these blogs. I’ve really got to know a lot more about myself and who I am. And how I haven’t been that person for a long time.

A close friend told me the other day. Although I’ve had a shit time, she’s already seeing me as better, funnier, more chilled out person. Isn’t it amazing what new meds and getting rid of metaphorical baggage can do! (Don’t leave your baggage unattended though, the non metaphorical kind. I did that once and my bag went to Middlesborough).

Now I might get a bit hippy and deep here. But y’know, we’ve entered spring (I know! Tell the weather that!) and I feel I’ve entered the spring of my life. Out of the cold, ice of winter and into the blooms of spring. New life.

Yes it’s going to be a constant battle with me and my thought processes, but I’m armed to fight them. The bulbs are sprouting and I can see so much light shining in. Pass me my shades.

This could well be down to therapy today. Or, it could be down to me. I’m on a journey of self- discovery (god I want to punch myself right now for writing that, next I’ll be packing a back pack and off to south East Asia to ‘find myself’ and stroke a sedated tiger).

I go back to work on Thursday and I can’t wait. Nursing is part of my identity, that I’m re-building. This time with the knowledge that I have a support system. And I know I can trust this support system.

Everything happens for a reason. I had to reach rock bottom to climb back up.

Oh and… Karma bitches ✌🏼