Three years

and counting

Back in the game

After a week away in sunny Wales (oh yes! we had sun) I hope this familiar feeling of motivation and clarity stays close for some time. I've missed a few things: running, writing, down time, being fair to myself and those around me. 

I also intend to use this groove and start mental health volunteer work. A potential date is set next week and I'm so excited to learn more and tackle the stigma. 

The opportunity came

And I went for it

Birthday cake

I miss my mum and getting angry over silly things like an added couple of pounds, a sweaty tube, a dirty kitchen or the fact that my trainers rub isn't going to solve anything. None of these frustrations will ever bring her back, why commit so much energy into them?

Cake is the trigger and I imagine my brother to wake next week on his birthday with no promise of a birthday cake that my mum would always organise. This is a subject far too painful I even avoid myself, since to buy the cake for him would be acceptance of her death. Though who is loosing out in the long run?

Me. 

I will have to accept. I will have to acknowledge that to be my brother's mum isn't a role for me either. We are all grown up now. You'd think that makes it easier, moving onto new adventures in social circuits and job advances. It only makes it harder as that person isn't there to explain it all to and for you to say at least you're proud of your achievements. An unconditional listen. 

So what can I do? Either sit in squalor and eat/drink into my feelings or come on top and open my eyes to see what's on my doorstop instead. I'd never forgive myself to linger in this current lull and for something worse to happen in the near future. That previous lull you were dying to escape from would suddenly turn into the ideal. Not I. I can't do it anymore. 

No more wishing back. 

Fight or Flight

I'm one of those women who shops like an overdose gone wrong. During manic moods people reach for booze, drugs and material things. Me, I shop for produce. I buy food, seeking flavour for survival. I get wound up in a colourful bubble of this and that, lets put these things together, shall we go here - I want to do that NOW!

Today I went for a scan on my right boob. Mum died of breast cancer so I was not taking any chances. After two checks and a scan referral I was able to see with my own eyes that I have nothing to worry about.

Some may say that even after two Doctors had given me the all clear, I was being a little paranoid. Of course I was - but who is to say that cancer is about life and death. It isn't. Cancer is about maintenance much like mental health. I've been on the 'C word' journey with someone close, I can honestly say cancer stumps your life for a good couple of years introducing more issues than ever expected. For me I'm in no position at 23 years to put my life on hold for a small group of multiplying cells. As a sufferer of anxiety and depression, hand on heart my life is finally simmering away. TWENTY THREE YEARS and only now my life is simmering! Only now am I able to say I'm happy and things are good without those words coming out of my mouth as a lie. 2013, 6 months in and everyone has been great - I'm just not used to that.

The thoughts creep in, is this the start or is this the beginning? It's a familiar trap much like depression, a circle and all the options are black that surround it. Cancer, what if I've got...Cancer? Even the word deserves a big 'C'. It's fight or flight. Crack on or panic. Thankfully I was able to panic and relax. I am so so lucky to feel appreciation, assurance, and most of all see the clear landscape I have in front of me now that the black fog has cleared in several areas of my life. I fought and I won.

p.s I celebrated with a gin and tonic with a strawberry in it ;)
pps I also ate a whole bag of revels :P
ppps Apologies to any family/friends who read this, no panic! :)

Vulnerability

Amazing quote, something I've learned over time. Something I also wish I'd come across a few years ago...

'Love is an inside job. It begins with self-compassion and self-love. When you let go of the need to be perfect, you stop expecting the opposite sex to be perfect. When you stop beating yourself up, you become more compassionate towards others. When you stop worrying about what other people think, the real you can emerge. And when you can connect deeply, authentically and vulnerably, you can have a crack at the real deal, a wonderful loving relationship.

I am done with being the rock. Inside, I am just as strong as I was, probably even stronger now, but I have softened and opened to exposing more of my true self. Even when it's scary...no, especially when it's scary. I have learned to be even more courageous, "daring greatly," and in the process, I am learning to date greatly.'

Mental health awareness week

This week has shown me how much I’ve been frazzled in panic for the past few weeks- frozen, because I didn’t really know what was going on with me until now. I became a jarred juxtaposition of thoughts. I scared myself. Last week was an explosion of self time, I didn’t realise how worked up I got over running 15k, setting my own goals amongst too much added pressure. Too much saturated ‘fat’ if you like!

 

I hit my goal. That was nice and so this week the tension has reeled away. Now there’s time for rest and today I begin my holiday. Family time, tea and cake. I can’t wait to wake up when there's no rush, no deadlines and just easy ‘retired’ life.

 

My crutch- food. Energy. Fuel to stay awake. Weird because I’d say most of the time I eat for pleasure. Perhaps when certain parts of your personality start to fade it’s time to recognise when you need a break. When you find yourself trying to take time out just by hiding in the loo for reflection, it’s time to change.

 

This week has been mental awareness week and I am so proud and chuffed to see so many people and organisations coming on board. Once the general public start to recognise depression and anxiety as a chemical imbalance, compared to something you have to ‘pull yourself together’ to fix, the ‘taboo’ will start to fade.

 

I feel this taboo not only comes from the media but within us. Experiencing such confusion over our emotions is half the battle with mental illness. A large part of us always trying to convince ourselves we are ‘ok’ and are ‘just being silly’. It’s too easy to say these words over and over in our heads. You might find yourself in a weeks’ time, with a box of painkillers by your side, trying to conjure a stress headache away whilst your hands are covering your eyes. Sit down!

 

I sometimes refer to myself as a whirlwind because I’ve been called this in the past due to my hyper personality and visceral desire to say out loud even the simplest of thoughts I endure. At present I find the whirlwind can be a bit of a worry since I associate it as an anxiety spell, alongside pure excitement and happiness. I say ‘sit down’, in a quiet room because it’s ‘tricks’ like these which allow you to recognise moments of stress, panic and that heavy feeling when you don’t want to get out of bed, because you might just be starting to lose yourself too.

 

For me change triggers everything. It ranges from the simplest of emotions, even feeling happy triggers it. Lately I’ve had to adapt to allowing myself to enjoy the positive emotions I’m now experiencing. I even have to reassure myself they aren’t suddenly going to disappear. It’s a shame traumatic experiences have encouraged this, though the main thing is now I’m able to embrace the good stuff, whereas old habits would have focussed on the lesser positives and continued to trap myself in an all too familiar grey world. During this ‘trap’ I’d even push those who care about me, away – I didn’t want to talk to anyone and would lock myself up in my safety room. The huge irony was, once I’d left the house and had met eyes with the public and my friends, facing the world didn’t seem so scary after all and I was able to cope with myself and the company of others better than before. It was a strange feeling, like slowly taking the plaster off, dragging out the pain, but once it was off everything looked a little clearer and a bit more manageable. Depression and anxiety is not about cure but at least management and recognition of early warning signs.

More to come soon on my experience of treatment...