When I was in secondary school it got drilled into me that I must think before I speak. Well I hope all of you are happy! Now I think too much before speaking!
My anxiety can be ridiculous- put me in so many silly situations- situations if I didn’t have, wouldn’t follow with funny stories to share with my friends! It’s always more funny for them, than the experience was for me, but laughing about the setbacks makes me feel less vulnerable, and more capable to tackle it, head-on, second time around.
To be completely honest, I’ve been feeling a lot of pressure recently. For four weeks now I’ve been out of work and my savings are starting to drop drastically.
I’m a fulltime house-wife to my mum, a carer to my nan; always cleaning, cooking, counselling her depression and overseeing her alcohol consumption.
I didn’t ask for this, I’m just unable to contribute to rent right now and wanted to make myself less of laughing stock.
Sadly, it’s seemed almost impossible to have a day to myself, in bed, without thinking it’ll be used against me.
If I want my mum to get better I must lead by the example that I’m setting, but this can be a lot of pressure, unsatisfying, and mentally draining.
The main thing I should remember is that I’m not a superhero, nor can I be their superhero.
I cannot fix their mistakes, or their misery, as much as I’d like to. And fixing their mistakes won’t fix mine.
I need to be my own superhero.
I’m here because I was in denial about my mental health. I believed anxiety after one good month I had been magically cured, so picked up extra shifts, and overworked myself to breaking point.
I stuck my back out for a boss on countless occasions, but when it broke for a slight second I was no longer of use!
… I have to laugh about it.
I think it’s healthy; laughing about your misfortunes. Sitting feeling sorry for yourself only weighs you down more.
If I was to feel upset every time my anxiety got in the way of my success, I’d be more depressed than when I questioned the point of my existence.
I usually run away from these things- I still haven’t brought myself to leave the work group chat, nor can I bring myself to step back through the pub doors to collect my umbrella and the tips I’m owed…
…Man up right?
Most things I once got anxious about I have now conquered.
One example is public transport, since I often second guessed getting on a full bus. Once I’d sat on the bus for longer than I was suppose too because no one else was getting off and there were a group of girls behind me, laughing.
It’s silly- realistically they weren’t laughing at me, but that’s the power of anxiety. Thoughts plays in your head, over and over again. You’re clammy, trying to steady your breath because something suddenly punched you, hard, in the stomach.
You know you need to press the button to get off the bus, but your mental state takes over your body; you can’t.
Getting back home took an extra 40 minutes that day.
I now remember the feeling I felt, in the rain; worse than how I’d of felt getting off when I was supposed too. Even if it does sometimes feel impossible, I manage it, and my god does it make me feel good!
Since leaving University, and living back home, I’m back amongst people who use to know me- The girl from the distant past.
Friends I see one day, won’t see me again for a month, ‘giving me space,’ because the last time they saw me I was, a bit of a mess, or I wasn’t myself.
– Something that bothers me more than I’d ever admit.
That sh*t makes me anxious.
Like… Wow… Ok…
So how does one suddenly become herself again?
Do I have to act stupid? Tell a joke that no one’s going to laugh at? Be the loudest in the room? No….
I’ll just get super drunk and see if I can excite you more like that!
The pressure of seeing friends can be tough; in their heads ‘giving me space,’ is what I need to recover, but anxiety is NOT a cold that you can fight off in bed with your mums home-made soup.
It’s something that can be fine one minute, and blow up in your face the next!
Adjusting back to living with friends with full-time jobs means I have to make plans, instead of spontaneously being able to see them.
I know if I’m not feeling myself; take a raincheck, I might not see them for another month, and so, no matter how I’m feeling on the day, I put myself into the situation of socialising, when I may not be able to.
Then and now.
I was a fearless little child- a bit of an adrenaline junkie.
When five years old I broke my leg, following my sister down a hill on roller skates. She saw I was afraid, said it was ok, and told me to go down it on my bum.
I didn’t listen to her. If she was capable of doing it, I was- taking the easy way out was for the weak.
I enjoyed falling down, to get back up and try again- even if it did hurt the first time. Yes, I may have broken my leg, but you should see me in a pair of ice skates! (I’m pretty good).
My first Ski trip was incredible. I’d spent the week toppling over red runs like bridget jones, or skiing competitively down the slopes with a flask of gin in hand. I picked it up easy and I loved it.
Unfortunately on the last day I was an anxious wreck. I had a panic attack at the top of the mountains- couldn’t shake this feeling of pain and death- that something bad was going to happen.
I felt so pathetic sitting on the lift of shame back down to the bottom, on my own, walking back to my room, and getting back into bed.
It was a pretty ‘peak’ moment in my life….
In school I was mischievous; a teacher’s worst nightmare!
I did anything I was encouraged to do by my peers, I spoke over the teacher all the time and I was incosiderate of others.
The first ever Seminar I attended in Uni turned out to be the completely wrong one- It took me thirty minutes to figure this out, and that they weren’t also freshers.
I still don’t know what class I was sitting in. I was too scared to ask anyone. I was even too scared of standing up, and walking out of the door.
I guess the reason I get so affected with my friends commenting I’m, ‘not myself,’ anymore is because I know that.
I wish I could be that girl with all the confidence, who doesn’t care about what others think; what people will say to her, or fear doing something because of the outcome it may, or may not have.
My social anxiety reacts on two extreme level:
The first is when I’m around people I know- acting ‘over-extra,’ or ‘too much,’ because I don’t want them to question why I’m not being myself.
– When I think about the un-necessary amounts of attention I’ve attracted later on, I feel shit.
The second is being around people I don’t necessarily know- I crawl into my shy little hole, not wanting to say anything stupid, or mess up what I’m trying to say. I think too much before I speak.
-The quiter I am, the worse I begin to feel, and the harder it becomes to start talking.
Either way… I can’t seem to escape these constant battles!
Good days and bad days:
My housewife duties ensure the kitchen is perfect- clean enough to eat off the floor.
As soon as someone comes in to make some food, it’s a mess all over again, and ‘ll rush to clean it up.
Somehow, the mess is montaged. Over and over again, I clean; become furious the room won’t stay perfect, bitching at everyone for making it messy again.
Suddenly, without changing anything I just accept it can’t stay perfect, and I stop caring- similarly to my anxiety.
One minute, it cares so much about the kitchen staying clean, and the next it doesn’t.
It lets it be, how it should be, and it won’t care.
My anxiety inhabits my mind like an unwanted visitor.
Even when I think I should be feeling my best, I’m not.
That’s what makes it so damn right confusing.
Some days I’m me;
I’m a stranger in my own skin.
What matters most, is how I see myself, and throughout everything I’ve been through I’ve turned into a pretty great human who just thinks pretty crazy things at times.
I know deep down I don’t care what others think; on the days I’m not anxious, I’m able to portray this, and be the best possible version of myself.
I don’t ever want to feel the way I do sometimes, but I accept it and take the breaks I need- It’s all about maintaining a healthy balance and not being to hard on myself.
I don’t look for sympathy but instead a solution- Deep down I’m still that young girl- picking herself back up from out of the mud, and trying again.
#anxiety #selflove #mentalhealth #mentalhealthawareness #acceptance #understandingyourself