Let’s Not Get Too Excited 2

Further developments.

I have been reading a book from the local Library called ‘Mad Diet’ by Suzanne Lockhart, and in case you can’t tell from the title it’s about what to do if you are both mad and fat. (Like me).

She talks about how depression can be linked to deficiencies in certain vitamins and recommends taking supplements, and while I’m of the opinion that my poor mental health is caused by a traumatic childhood and a poor mental operating system, I am willing to give anything and everything a try.

Lockhart says the key supplements to take are Magnesium, B vitamins, Omega 3 and a Probiotic. So yesterday I trawled across 5 different drugstores making sure I was getting not only the correct supplements (magnesium citrate, not oxide, and equal DHA and EPA in the Omega 3) but also the best price (naturally).

It was a sizeable dent to the food/household budget.

But…I don’t want to get excited but my anxiety has greatly improved.

I can’t fairly say I am not anxious, but it takes longer and more in depth wallowing to reach a heightened point of anxiety.

I will keep you posted of further developments.

Let’s Not Get Too Excited

I had my counselling session and as I was walking home an interesting thing happened.

I was about to turn round a bend tightly, and there were people heading in my direction and people walking in a different direction, but we were all going to cross paths.

Which we did, and I had to do an awkward shuffle out the way.

It was only as I was walking away I noticed something.

My heart rate wasn’t elevated.

I wasn’t playing an inner monologue berating myself for my inadequacies.

I wasn’t hyperventilating.

You may wonder what the big deal is, well when something like that happens-people coming too close to me, not doing something ‘perfectly’ I get anxious and feel bad and often needlessly panic.

It may be early days but I am taking that as a win.

Choose Life 2

I was innocently reading Stewart Lee’s article in The Guardian today and he made a comment about someone he knew passing away in 2007 and it made me think about how they wouldn’t have seen all the terrible things that have happened in the world since then.

But, I knew then that no matter how many bad things have happened there have been at least an equal amount of good, positive, beautiful things as well.

So I choose life, like Ewan McGregor in Trainspotting, because I want to be around for every single grubby moment of life that the world wants to kick up in my face, because I know that the alternative – not being alive – is not a better solution.

I want to experiences the horrors as well as the highs, and believe me for most of my life it felt like I had too much of the former and not much of the latter. I do not say this lightly, and also I only had that brain wave at about 3pm today and I have already gotten into a panic about work and had to take a propanalol, but it’s true. I want to be around.

Life is like a game of cricket. It’s about getting the most innings.

Back in My Dark State of Mind

Yesterday the boy and I went out with friends to say goodbye to one of our old drinking haunts in the city we all went to University at as it was moving location.

All was going fine, we had a seat for each of us at a big table, we arrived early, there weren’t many people there initially, we were all having a good time.

I don’t know what triggered it, but as you can guess I got into a state of anxiety.

If I had to hazard a guess at what caused it, I would say it was when half the group left to go to the club area upstairs to dance, leaving three of us including me downstairs, meaning the seats that had been vacated were probably going to be taken.

Which was freaking me out as I would feel claustrophobic, I would feel self conscious and insecure being around strangers and I was scared most of all that a stranger might start talking to me.

Seriously, I was petrified by that.

Petrified.

Let’s just mull over that. I was scared someone would talk to me.

Because if someone was to talk to me, I would feel like everyone was staring at me, waiting for a response, and I knew I would stammer, and be unsure of what to say, and I would say anything to make the attention go away.

I would be a rubbish spy as I would give all the secrets away just to have them leave me alone.

The other thing that happened was I had lost my voice and needed a drink, so I asked the boy to get me one as my anxiety meant I couldn’t go up to a crowded bar and order a drink as I would be around people (who may talk to me!) and I would be so nervous about ordering a drink that more often then not the bar person mishears me and I end up with a completely different drink to the one I wanted and I am too pathetic to correct them.

Except the boy didn’t realise the seriousness of the situation and although he said he would he continued talking to our friends and I was getting more and more worked up, desperate for a drink, feeling crowded and overwhelmed, hot, bothered, scared, nervous, in pain in my throat, not being able to talk which would have left me vulnerable to strangers wanting to start up a conversation with me and I was feeling scared.

Then the boy left to get our drinks and then I started getting worked up because I was with a friend who I love dearly as a friend, but we are both on the shy and quiet end of the scale which makes easy conversation difficult and I was getting panicked because I thought that he would think I am a weirdo, or rude, or boring, or crap, and to be fair my throat did hurt and I felt the panic rise and rise and rise and rise and by the time the boy came back I was at critical point which meant all I could do was run away (I am very much the ‘flight’ in the case of fight or flight).

I was hyperventilating.

The boy and I went for a walk around the block. I was feeling so crap because I was about to end the night badly, I was about to ruin the evening because my stupid broken mind had betrayed me.

We left soon after that. We went home quickly in a taxi. The boy went straight up to the bedroom and was in bed not talking to me and turned on his side. I knew he was in a bad way, because of me.

I climbed into bed and turned off the light and could feel the emotions of the boy seeping into me, and I felt so low, so down, and I think I was about to cry myself to sleep.

The boy then reached his arm over and half hugged/half stroked me. I was so pathetically grateful for this sign of affection as it made me feel forgiven for being a complete mental f*** up.

(By the way I would never use that sort of language to describe someone else with mental health difficulties, it is just myself I reserve the hate and bile for).

We talked, and I told him that things are not going to change overnight but I am on the path to better mental health. I just feel like we have had this conversation and this promise too many times before.

I feel like I have been in an impossible maze for the last few years, and had reached the point where I was just trapped in a corner/dead end with no way out. Now I feel a bit more optimistic. I feel like I am still far from the centre of the maze, but that I am turning the right corners.

Oh No, I just said ‘turned a corner’, I vowed never to say that. Boooo!

I need to get better, because quite frankly it is exhausting hating myself as much as I do.

The Big Issues

The thing about my anxiety was it was very much rooted in the everyday, the small things of life, my narrow view of focus on the world.

Such as my personal finances, losing weight, caring for my friends and family.

But as the world turns I am finding that along with worrying about everything in my life I am worried about the wider world as well.

I have recently, finally, started watching The Handmaid’s Tale.

I love the book, even choosing it as one of the books I had to select to write a comparative essay on during my English Literature A Level (you won’t be surprised to hear that the other book was 1984, which at the time was my favourite book of all time until I discovered Murakami).

I love Margaret Atwood, so I don’t say this lightly, but I think the TV series is…better than the book.

They have added so much to it, true, things that weren’t in the book, and normally when TV/Film execs do that you want to punch them in the face and say ‘NO! STOP THAT BUSINESS!’ but I really think it works.

The only thing is, when I first read the book as a slightly pretentious and completely geeky 16/17 year old I was safe in the knowledge that that would never happen.

But I am afraid about many things in the future. And whilst it’s not like I think the world is going to turn into that of The Handmaid’s Tale, at least not yet, I no longer think it is completely outside the realms of possibility.

I guess maybe it is easier to focus on how the world is going to hell, because doing that distracts me from how my life, or at least one aspect of it, is going to hell.

 

 

 

It’s All Downhill From Here

Summer Solstice.

The longest day of the year.

The end of next week marks the halfway point of the year.

It’s all downhill from here.

BUT, the phrase has two meanings. And they contradict each other.

In one way you can say that it means things are going to get worse.

On the other hand it could mean the hard part is over and things are going to get easier.

So my summer of discontent, my anxiety, my debt, my employment prospects…they could go either way.

Yes, I know that every situation in the history of the world will go one way or the other as that is the way the world works, but I’m musing here, leave me be.

Either this is the rough leading to the good, and I will finally get the help I need, I will finally get answers, and I will find employment that doesn’t make me break out in metaphorical hives.

Or, this is the end of good times. Harsh times are ahead.

I guess a lot of it will depend on what I do next, and how I approach things.

For a long while I have been thinking so fondly of the upcoming autumn that I have confused myself and I think it is September.

At first I thought it was a longing to get a bit more hygge, or just to get out of the heat, but maybe, subconsciously, I am looking for this year to be over. To begin again.

What difference does one day make? Why is it we all feel the psychological boost from the calendar switching from December 31st to January 1st? The belief that we can finally fulfil our potential?

I don’t know, but why wait till then? Why wait another 6+ months to feel that I can begin again?

The future is now.