So here it is. Almost 4am and still no sleep. And probably none anytime soon. The bulb has went in my bedside lamp so I've had to turn on the light. This is far too bright to sleep with on.Yet I'm still not comfortable enough here to sleep without a light. I need a safety blanket. Especially considering the batshit insane things than roll around inside my noggin. Switching on the light in the kitchen and the bathroom scares me. Sometimes outright panics me, especially at night. Particularly when I'm alone. I have this strange sense of dread when the flickering occurs, like Pinhead from Hellraiser or the overused scary chick with black hair from japanese horror flicks will come crawling out at me. I kid you not these thoughts actually pass through my skull.
What is it about the space inbetween light and dark that unnerves me so?
I guess it's possibilities that immobilise me. My head always has a field day reaching for the million and one answers to "What could go wrong here?" No matter how outlandish, they arise and frightfully so.
I'm sure it all has its roots in my parents overprotective ways. I could never go anywhere without it being a military operation. I went to a Take That concert in Manchester when in highschool and I was grilled for about 2 weeks before going by my dad. I had to promise to take a note of the bus number plate, the name of the driver, where we were parked etc and I had to absolutely without question call him the moment I arrived.
It was like that with everything. Even just going to my cousins birthday party when she turned 18 I had to constantly call and check in. And if I couldn't for whatever reason I would panic like you would not believe.
All my nights out where consumed with the fear of not being able to do as I'd been asked. I'd worry about facing my angry father and just couldn't have any fun.
I'm 30 now and don't live at home but I still call to check in if I'm out. If I didn't my poor Mum would bear the brunt of his unecessary worry.
So the what ifs have played a massive role in my life, they were the seeds from which my anxiety and panic grew to the point where I'm now ruled by them.
So now even the flickering of a striplight floods my neurons with numerous and ever ghastly outcomes before it's all laid to rest when the light bursts out and sends calm across the land again.
Well not calm really. Takes a while to come down after but at least reason prevails, if nothing else does.
Showing posts with label panic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label panic. Show all posts
Wednesday, 17 August 2011
Wednesday, 25 May 2011
The Wedding
It was my cousin's wedding on Saturday there. I had been so looking forward to it. The idea of getting to spend some time with her was exciting. I was actually the only one looking forward to it. My brother, father and mother all didn't want to go. Probably because we don't exactly have a good relationship, actually any relationship with our Uncles, Aunts or Cousins. This was my Dad's side. His brother's daughter's wedding and they didn't see eye to eye. Well more to the point my Dad had fallen out with my Uncle a while back over things that came up after my Grandmother passed away and my Dad is the number one grudge holder on this planet. To be fair he was totally in the right on that occasion. But people deal with him by either quietly going along with things or avoiding him. I know this because that's what happened in the house when arguments flared. Though my Mum was never a vocal participant but that's not to say she didn't pull her fair share of nonsense. Neither one is a saint by any stretch of the imagination. They are who they are and I love them regardless. Cause lets be honest, none of us is perfect or totally good. We all can be thoughtless, unkind and a pain in the arse, it's the nature of being.
My Uncle and Aunt decided to deal with it by avoiding him, they never called, never wrote, though there would be the uncomfortable hello's in the town and asking about how we were all doing. i don't know if they cared or not. I had been raised to think that they didn't. And i have to be honest I have felt judged when talking to them especially when they ask what I'm doing, where I'm working. That one is always a kick in the nuts. Wish i could just say, nope still mental thanks. Took me half a day to build up the courage to come outdoors thanks. And I did feel like they were wondering where it all went wrong and thank god their kids didn't turn out like us as we would talk politely in the street.
So my Dad felt ostracised, he felt like he was the black sheep and he had been cut out. My Mum was worried for the same reason and panicked it would be uncomfortable and we would be ignored the whole evening. My brother just doesn't like big events and was also worried about what it would be like to have the family reunited in one place. So when the call came in on Tuesday the 17th May that Mum had the flu and was told by the GP she couldn't go to the wedding I expected them to bail on me. And it upset me because I knew I couldn't go alone. So I spoke to my Psychologist about it and braved talking to my Dad who promised to come. I knew if he did then my brother would too. So it was all set and I focused on getting in the bits and bobs we needed. I felt hugely guilty about my brother having to come but I needed all the support I could get to get through the day and I was still disgusted that I missed the hen night. He was really unhappy, really depressed and it did make me wonder whether I should just say okay lets not go then.
But the big day came and even though I hadn't slept I guzzled down some caffeine at 8am and showered and ironed all my clothes. I then headed out to the hairdresser where I got my hair cut so that I wouldn't look as much like the crazy bag lady my brother says I usually do. Which is true, normally I don't take care of my appearance at all. My clothes are tatty and hole ridden and my hair was just hanging there. I didn't and still don't own a hairdryer. I did my best though to buy something bright and feminine and appropriate for the occasion. I even bought makeup and took care of the facial hair that my PCOS causes. I didn't want to embarrass anyone and I didn't want to make a spectacle of myself.
I was on a roll. I got back to the house at 11am and got dressed and got my brother up. Sorted my makeup and pocketed everything we would need for the day. I then sat and relaxed with a cuppa till 1pm and then went downstairs to take out money before my Dad arrived in a taxi to pick us up. We got to the church about 30 minutes before the ceremony was due to begin and we sat at the back unsure of who was still going to be there and how welcome we all really were. As time ticked by and it became obvious that all the guests had arrived we realised that neither of my Dads two other brothers nor their families had been invited. Just goes to show just when you think you know it all you find out you're not the bad guy after all. At least then my Dad realised he and my Uncle had the mutual dislike of their two brothers in common.
The ceremony without a hitch despite the awful weather. And it was really nice to be a part of it even if it was a bit surreal as we didn't know anyone else in the church. None of us had met my Cousin's fiance at all before this and I wasn't familiar with her friends except from Facebook pics. so after the ceremony pictures were taken and we headed off to the reception, whereupon we were crammed into a small room with a makeshift bar no chairs and windows that were painted shut. To say it was a bit on the warm side was an understatement. It took about 2 hours for all the photos and the hall to be set up so there were lines of abandoned stilettos and barefoot women by the time we were beckoned in to sit.
Dad was extremely uncomfortable till the moment he left after dinner. But he was also proved wrong. Not only did my cousins Groom mention my Mum and hope for her swift recovery in his speech, they also bought her a beautiful bouquet of flowers. And my uncle made my dad promise to call him and get together. It was wonderful to see. I knew my dad would never not be annoyed by his older brother whom he regarded as a bit of a buffoon in some ways but at least he knew that his family still did care and things could be different. My brother and I decided to stay on and see the night through till the bride and groom left at midnight.
It wasn't too long after dad left though that I started to feel that old fear rising. I felt hemmed in, claustrophobic surrounded by all these people who were of course miles better than me. So I'd make excuses and make my way to the bathroom and have a quiet sob before heading back out into the hubbub. After dinner we were ushered back into the tiny room and again the panic rose so my brother walked me down to the bathroom and waited while I tried to shake it off again. It went on like that for most of the evening. I felt like I was spoiling my brothers night who funnily enough was having a really good time. I decided to take a few drinks to see if they might help but it didn't really make much of a difference. eventually my Uncle dragged me up to dance and I was mortified and shaking and self conscious but i got through it and somehow managed to dance a few more times throughout the night.
I just couldn't figure out where all this anxiety and despair was coming from. I had been so looking forward to this night and yet again here I was folding like a cheap suit. I was in awe of my cousin and her bridesmaids as they danced the night away so carefree and so joyously. I felt so selfish sitting there so upset and close to tears for most of it. It was so painful watching all of this happening in front of me I guess. All these people, all these lives and I knew as hard as I ever try I'm never going to be close to being like any of them. That's not to say I resented them I didn't, I was really so happy for my cousin and all her friends. I felt like Alice walking through the looking glass. It was magical, a world I'd never known and probably never would again.
There were so many things I wanted to say to so many people that night but I just couldn't find the courage. I really regret it but I do appreciate the opportunity to see my family together again after such a long time. And even though it was a rough ride I did stick it out. I don't want to give myself any credit for that and have been fighting the urge to pull myself down but I am proud that i didn't run for the hills when things started getting uncomfortable which is my usual M.O.
My Uncle and Aunt decided to deal with it by avoiding him, they never called, never wrote, though there would be the uncomfortable hello's in the town and asking about how we were all doing. i don't know if they cared or not. I had been raised to think that they didn't. And i have to be honest I have felt judged when talking to them especially when they ask what I'm doing, where I'm working. That one is always a kick in the nuts. Wish i could just say, nope still mental thanks. Took me half a day to build up the courage to come outdoors thanks. And I did feel like they were wondering where it all went wrong and thank god their kids didn't turn out like us as we would talk politely in the street.
So my Dad felt ostracised, he felt like he was the black sheep and he had been cut out. My Mum was worried for the same reason and panicked it would be uncomfortable and we would be ignored the whole evening. My brother just doesn't like big events and was also worried about what it would be like to have the family reunited in one place. So when the call came in on Tuesday the 17th May that Mum had the flu and was told by the GP she couldn't go to the wedding I expected them to bail on me. And it upset me because I knew I couldn't go alone. So I spoke to my Psychologist about it and braved talking to my Dad who promised to come. I knew if he did then my brother would too. So it was all set and I focused on getting in the bits and bobs we needed. I felt hugely guilty about my brother having to come but I needed all the support I could get to get through the day and I was still disgusted that I missed the hen night. He was really unhappy, really depressed and it did make me wonder whether I should just say okay lets not go then.
But the big day came and even though I hadn't slept I guzzled down some caffeine at 8am and showered and ironed all my clothes. I then headed out to the hairdresser where I got my hair cut so that I wouldn't look as much like the crazy bag lady my brother says I usually do. Which is true, normally I don't take care of my appearance at all. My clothes are tatty and hole ridden and my hair was just hanging there. I didn't and still don't own a hairdryer. I did my best though to buy something bright and feminine and appropriate for the occasion. I even bought makeup and took care of the facial hair that my PCOS causes. I didn't want to embarrass anyone and I didn't want to make a spectacle of myself.
I was on a roll. I got back to the house at 11am and got dressed and got my brother up. Sorted my makeup and pocketed everything we would need for the day. I then sat and relaxed with a cuppa till 1pm and then went downstairs to take out money before my Dad arrived in a taxi to pick us up. We got to the church about 30 minutes before the ceremony was due to begin and we sat at the back unsure of who was still going to be there and how welcome we all really were. As time ticked by and it became obvious that all the guests had arrived we realised that neither of my Dads two other brothers nor their families had been invited. Just goes to show just when you think you know it all you find out you're not the bad guy after all. At least then my Dad realised he and my Uncle had the mutual dislike of their two brothers in common.
The ceremony without a hitch despite the awful weather. And it was really nice to be a part of it even if it was a bit surreal as we didn't know anyone else in the church. None of us had met my Cousin's fiance at all before this and I wasn't familiar with her friends except from Facebook pics. so after the ceremony pictures were taken and we headed off to the reception, whereupon we were crammed into a small room with a makeshift bar no chairs and windows that were painted shut. To say it was a bit on the warm side was an understatement. It took about 2 hours for all the photos and the hall to be set up so there were lines of abandoned stilettos and barefoot women by the time we were beckoned in to sit.
Dad was extremely uncomfortable till the moment he left after dinner. But he was also proved wrong. Not only did my cousins Groom mention my Mum and hope for her swift recovery in his speech, they also bought her a beautiful bouquet of flowers. And my uncle made my dad promise to call him and get together. It was wonderful to see. I knew my dad would never not be annoyed by his older brother whom he regarded as a bit of a buffoon in some ways but at least he knew that his family still did care and things could be different. My brother and I decided to stay on and see the night through till the bride and groom left at midnight.
It wasn't too long after dad left though that I started to feel that old fear rising. I felt hemmed in, claustrophobic surrounded by all these people who were of course miles better than me. So I'd make excuses and make my way to the bathroom and have a quiet sob before heading back out into the hubbub. After dinner we were ushered back into the tiny room and again the panic rose so my brother walked me down to the bathroom and waited while I tried to shake it off again. It went on like that for most of the evening. I felt like I was spoiling my brothers night who funnily enough was having a really good time. I decided to take a few drinks to see if they might help but it didn't really make much of a difference. eventually my Uncle dragged me up to dance and I was mortified and shaking and self conscious but i got through it and somehow managed to dance a few more times throughout the night.
I just couldn't figure out where all this anxiety and despair was coming from. I had been so looking forward to this night and yet again here I was folding like a cheap suit. I was in awe of my cousin and her bridesmaids as they danced the night away so carefree and so joyously. I felt so selfish sitting there so upset and close to tears for most of it. It was so painful watching all of this happening in front of me I guess. All these people, all these lives and I knew as hard as I ever try I'm never going to be close to being like any of them. That's not to say I resented them I didn't, I was really so happy for my cousin and all her friends. I felt like Alice walking through the looking glass. It was magical, a world I'd never known and probably never would again.
There were so many things I wanted to say to so many people that night but I just couldn't find the courage. I really regret it but I do appreciate the opportunity to see my family together again after such a long time. And even though it was a rough ride I did stick it out. I don't want to give myself any credit for that and have been fighting the urge to pull myself down but I am proud that i didn't run for the hills when things started getting uncomfortable which is my usual M.O.
Friday, 11 February 2011
Moving Toward Independence
When I met up with my support worker at our regular time on Wednesday this week. She informed me that the flat that the Community Mental Health Team had secured me was finally ready for a viewing. I have been very unsure all along in this whole process and I'm not sure I'm either ready nor able to move out. My brother would be coming with me, so I wouldn't be living alone but this was still not much of a comfort. The speed of the whole process has been daunting. Especially considering how reticent I have been toward the issue of moving out for many years. I thought my concession at the end of 2010 that I would at least talk to the housing officer for the CMHT was a big enough step. At least it was in my mind. Little did I know that it had already been decided before meeting JS for a total of 15 minutes in December that they had already procured a flat. This was only relayed to me later that Tuesday evening when my support worker called me at home. The panic I felt was overwhelming. She couldn't understand why I didn't sound excited or ask her any questions, including where it was. The simple reason being I was in shock.
Leading up to Christmas and New Years it was really eating away at me how quickly everything was moving & I didn't seem to have a lot of control over it. Everyone else was enthusiastic but me. I was too busy worrying about whether I could afford it and what would happen to my parents and this house without me here to push the issue. I felt like I was adrift at sea, I wasn't sleeping or oversleeping and I wasn't really leaving the house anymore unless it was to see my psychologist or support worker. The panic was surging through me and never seemed to equalise, I always seemed to be at defcon 1.
The toll it had taken on me was palpable, you could see it etched across my face. My support worker even told me that "I looked like absolute hell". And I did because it's how I felt. I was so fatigued all the time and my mood was yo-yoing and still is out of control. I had stopped making any effort with personal hygiene, going weeks without washing my hair and sometimes 2-4 weeks if I was in the house without washing. My limbs were leaden, it felt as if someone had turned up gravity just for me. I was physically sinking into the ground as my mood ebbed ever lower. I didn't even have the energy to talk, not with any enthusiasm about anything to anyone. Sentences were short and grunting. I'd become practically monosyllabic.
I tried with all my might after the New Year to try to reign in back in and look at it purely from a logical context. Weigh up the pros and cons. And I knew there were more pros. Especially when it came to my parents. The fact I and my brother still live at home, does financially cripple them. They are reliant upon benefits. My Dad did work for almost 40 years of his life before being made redundant. And for the privilege was left with the princely sum of £7000 for his trouble. My mother worked for over 20 before being crippled with arthritis and breathing problems. And they have nothing to show for it. They still have a mortgage to pay and because I live here they can't get housing benefit to help toward it and it also means they have to pay the full whack in council tax.
I can't think about what's best for me because unlike everyone else I don't think I deserve much and don't rank my needs very highly. Not that I don't resent myself and everyone else for that. I'm a contradiction in terms I know but it's just how my mind works. So the deciding factor was always going to be how it left everyone else. And so I slowly started to get a little comfortable with the idea. Trying to imagine what it would be like to have central heating, a working bathroom and a proper bedroom. All I have right now is a small box room with a divan jammed in than has mould growing up the walls And it was a nice idea that my parents could visit and enjoyt these little luxuries too while the social worker I'd arranged helped them out. I was still worried about the finances but I was promised by the CMHT that they would make sure that everything was taken care of and reassured me that everything would go at my pace, not theirs. Which made me feel like i could exhale again for the first time in over a month.
And then time seemed to pass without me obsessing about it or even hearing anything about it. The housing association couldn't find the keys. The previous tenant had taken them with them when moving out. And I've got to be honest I was more than a little happy for the stalling time, to give me room to move and breathe again. So I focused on other things, my overeating, my finances. Trying to get out more and become more social. The culmination of which was a trip to Glasgow to meet a fellow twitterer and go to a concert. None of which I'd ever done alone. I was doing okay. Apart from of course lashing myself senseless over my concert meeting. I'm never kind to myself when I meet new people and want them to like me. So my mood had dipped again. I had let go of basic needs again. My hair hasn't been washed since that night and its now almost a month later. I've given up on the crafts that I started. Stopped going out as much again bar two jaunts out by myself into town to meet my psychologist and support worker. And yet again my sleeping pattern is all over the place. I've spent weeks oversleeping massively, sometimes 20 hours. I wasn't getting up before 4pm. Yet now in the last week I can barely get a wink.
I was running on fumes when I met my support worker at the gym on Wednesday. My limbs were heavy and I was aching all over and developing a headache but I was trying to pull it back. I was determined to go and work out despite how I was feeling. So I made the short walk to the community centre. And despite feeling physically rubbish I thought I was doing okay mood wise. I didn't feel desperate or too anxious. That was until she told me I could finally see the flat. I think I thought that day was never really coming. I'd erased it from my mind. And suddenly all the pros and cons in the world didn't matter and my chest began to tighten. I tried to shake it off but it was obvious I wasn't doing a great job from how often she was asking if I was doing okay. I could barely make a peep and my focus was shot. I was trying to focus on what we were talking about but my mind was darting all over the place. And I suddenly became very aware of all the other people in the place. Especially the men, whom I'm particularly uncomfortable around at the best of times. So I couldn't help but glance at all these people and wonder how they did it. They all seemed so content.
They were definitely a darn sight more fit and healthy than me and I couldn't help but start undermining myself compared to all these perfect physical specimens. How ridiculous I must have looked to them, shuddering in with my parka on and wearing men's leisurewear because I can't get anything from the women's department at Tesco to fit comfortably. Everything was so sculpted and I wanted to hide my form, drown it out. So everything I was wearing was as baggy as I could get it. Which isn't very when you're my size.
As I walked for ten minutes on the treadmill I couldn't drown out the rhythmic thumping and breathing of the man running at high speed on the machine two rows down. Here I was and I could barely walk 3 miles per hour and he was running a marathon in front of my eyes. How did he shut out the world like that? He seemed to almost be in a trance. I somehow made it through the ten minute walk which had left my ankles screaming in pain. So i wiped down the machine trying hard to stare at the floor and not catch anyone's gaze and wandered down the quieter end with the upright bikes and the televisions. I thought riding the bike for 10 minutes with nothing to look at but the news would help me block everything out. But I was wrong, I could feel the panic starting to build in the pit of my stomach. That hard heavy weight vibrating out to all my extremities, I swallowed it back as hard as i could and focused on what I was doing, closing my eyes. I wasn't even talking to SW like I usually do when I'm out.
When I got off the bike I could feel my legs wanting to run as my head and face became hot with the building terror. I coughed and choked as it tried to make its escape and I didn't know what to do. SW asked me if I wanted to leave but I said no. In all my time in psychology I was always told never to give in to the panic, stick with it as long as you can because it will finally ebb away. So I wandered back up to the treadmills feeling far too insecure to wander into the jungle that was the weights, with all the huffing and puffing and traffic. I set the treadmill for 10 minutes again and stared solidly at the clock even though I was fidgeting uncontrollably and marathon man was still thumping away and as if to show off he turned the speed up yet again and the treadmill made an awful screech as if it was begging for mercy. I was probably physically shaking my head by this point and breathing heavily. It's always a tell of mine when I'm agitated. I had managed two minutes so far and was rocking somewhat as I strolled on the machine. The final straw came when one of the men that had been using the weights stepped up on to the machine beside me and started running. My brain just cried out and I knew I couldn't take anymore I stopped the machine as quickly as I could and tried to keep myself composed to wipe it down and let SW know I was going outside for a breath of fresh air. But as I turned after finishing that sentence and was making my way to the door I started hyperventilating louder and louder and more uncontrollably and I could feel everyone's eye's focused upon me. People stopped what they were doing to look. I just kept my head down and marched past them all as I tried to swallow it back and regain some repose but i couldn't and was so glad to break through into the open air where I could let go and shake and cry and try to get it back together.
Even though in panic attack terms this was fairly minor it still leaves you drained, you can feel the energy rushing out of you and it can take almost 2 hours after one before the shaking and tension finally abate. SW had followed me out and we talked in the car and she tried to reassure me. And I do know that she wants what she thinks is best for me but its not necessarily what I think is best or what I think I deserve. I feel uncomfortable sometimes by how genuinely she seems to care for me. I'd be much happier with some professional distance because it only adds one more person to the pile that I'm worried about disappointing. And I do worry about disappointing her. And if anything I want to do this move as much for her as it is to improve my parents life. I've never really come into the equation. Not in my own mind anyway. I walked it off and made an appointment with her to meet her Thursday morning to view the flat with my brother. Who eventually couldn't come because he was trying to sort out important finances. Try as I might though that night I couldn't put it out of my head and even though I was exhausted from the panic attack and not sleeping I still didn't get a wink of sleep that night.
Thankfully I didn't need to tackle public transport this morning. I wasn't really in a place to do it. Dad had an appointment with his GP and gave me a lift in the taxi he took. I tried to calm my nerves in the short walk toward the flat but I couldn't help but feel unsure. I wanted to be hopeful and was trying to remind myself of all those pros that had been brought to my attention. I was a little early so amused myself by browsing Twitter on my phone and trying to be as inconspicuous as you can hanging around on a street corner. Eventually SW and then the housing association people showed and we made our way into the building. I was first struck by how how steep and narrow the stairs were and how my parents would never be able to climb them to come visit which made my heart sink.
It was the top flat and not the bottom one I had been expecting. As we made our way through the door I was struck by how dark it was and how tatty the decor had been left. Everything was untidy and in some cases dirty. But it was a very large space for a flat in these parts. It had one massive bedroom and one small. A small lounge, bathroom and kitchen. whoever had lived there had written their name on the bathroom wall in nail varnish and left behind a treadmill. Because I was looking for the place to be furnished as I don't own anything of my own I was told whatever remained here at the moment that wasn't broken or could be fixed had to stay and there was no money for redecoration. despite the double bed in the bedroom being threadbare on the base I was told I'd probably only get a replacement mattress. I wasn't really taking it all in though I have to be honest. I couldn't even begin to imagine myself here. I was too uncomfortable being around so many unfamiliar faces who were asking me constantly what I was thinking. I'm not sure I was thinking at all. I think my mind was on mute and my body was on autopilot.
As we stood in the current lounge and I stared at the gaudy furniture and awful palette of colours I was told that I was expected to give my answer today as to whether I'd be taking the flat. That was a punch in the gut and sure woke me from my walking stupor. I mumbled that if I could I'd like to talk to some people first and have my brother see the place as he was moving with me too. She stared down at her list and told me I could come back same time tomorrow with him but I must give them an answer. I think SW could see what a panic it was sending me in too. So in her own way she tried to get my thinking on track, reminding me of all the reasons I should take it and that if I didn't like it I could always go home. She said if I let this one go it could be 5 more years before i was offered anything else and meanwhile nothing could be done for my parents because they wouldn't be entitled to help with me at home. I felt bombarded. I know they were trying to help but I just wanted a little peace and was feeling a little nagged. So I was glad to get out of the building. I stood on the street for a moment as SW asked me if I wanted a lift and if I would come back tomorrow. I promised her I would and she told me not to stress about it but seriously think about taking it. At this point I was doing my best to hold back the tears that were forming and swallowing back against the lump forming in my throat.
I wandered off and around the corner after leaving them and tried to call my mother and brother for a little comfort but when they did finally answer i couldn't bring myself to say anything. I must have looked like a caged lion as I paced around at the bus stop waiting to get in to the town and see my family who were sorting out other matters. As I got on the bus and my mind recounted what had just happened I started quietly sobbing. So as to get some control back before seeing my family I got off the bus early and walked the rest of the way the breeze whipping against my wet face. Try as I might though when I eventually did see them I couldn't keep it in and was openly upset outside the social work department, I felt so mixed up and didn't know what to do. They calmed me down and left me in the waiting room as they took care of their own matters.
After which we went back into the next town overs centre and wandered around Morrison's before grabbing something to eat in the cafe. felt better there with them and we even laughed and joked while eating our lunch despite all have rather rubbish days. But as time wore on I felt sapped and so opted to pay for a taxi home because the bus wasn't due for another hour yet. As we recounted what had happened to each of us to my father when we got back in I began to feel agitated and upset again and the hard lump and tears returned. So I grabbed some clean PJ's from the top of the dryer and went upstairs to try and get some sleep. Maybe then I'd find some rationale and the emotions would take second place. I'm not sure how long I was asleep but I was awoken at 5pm from a call from SW. She wanted to talk over the day with me and again hammered home all the reasons why I couldn't give up this opportunity and then she said "I don't mean this in a bad way but if you don't take this flat and try it's almost kind of selfish because your parents won't get help with housing or council tax" that did it for me I was lost in a spiral again but held it together long enough to talk her off the phone. I was complacent and agreed just so I could get some peace again. After the call finished I rolled over and went back to sleep because being awake was too confusing and painful.
I eventually gave up the ghost at 10pm and shuffled downstairs were I was told my best friend had been trying to get a hold of me. I wasn't really up to it but knew I should call her back in case it was anything serious. As soon as she answered and asked how I was doing, I crumpled. Muffled tear filled responses followed in the kitchen about how much stress i felt I was under and I had no idea what to do. In fact the fact that everyone had been so adamant today only made me want to withdraw and tell them no. She reassured me and told me if I needed back up tomorrow that I should call and she'd come. And she told me that she wanted what was best for me and she felt the move would be good for me because I could do what I want and feel more independent and I'd be close to her so would always have support. But she said that it didn't matter what she thought or anyone else, it's what I wanted at the end of the day and she'd be behind me 100%. That was two hours ago now and I'm none the wiser. I just knew I had to get this all out and down in plain English so maybe then I'd be free to look at things from a clearer perspective. And I welcome any opinions. Right now I'm a jumble and don't think I'll be sleeping tonight
Leading up to Christmas and New Years it was really eating away at me how quickly everything was moving & I didn't seem to have a lot of control over it. Everyone else was enthusiastic but me. I was too busy worrying about whether I could afford it and what would happen to my parents and this house without me here to push the issue. I felt like I was adrift at sea, I wasn't sleeping or oversleeping and I wasn't really leaving the house anymore unless it was to see my psychologist or support worker. The panic was surging through me and never seemed to equalise, I always seemed to be at defcon 1.
The toll it had taken on me was palpable, you could see it etched across my face. My support worker even told me that "I looked like absolute hell". And I did because it's how I felt. I was so fatigued all the time and my mood was yo-yoing and still is out of control. I had stopped making any effort with personal hygiene, going weeks without washing my hair and sometimes 2-4 weeks if I was in the house without washing. My limbs were leaden, it felt as if someone had turned up gravity just for me. I was physically sinking into the ground as my mood ebbed ever lower. I didn't even have the energy to talk, not with any enthusiasm about anything to anyone. Sentences were short and grunting. I'd become practically monosyllabic.
I tried with all my might after the New Year to try to reign in back in and look at it purely from a logical context. Weigh up the pros and cons. And I knew there were more pros. Especially when it came to my parents. The fact I and my brother still live at home, does financially cripple them. They are reliant upon benefits. My Dad did work for almost 40 years of his life before being made redundant. And for the privilege was left with the princely sum of £7000 for his trouble. My mother worked for over 20 before being crippled with arthritis and breathing problems. And they have nothing to show for it. They still have a mortgage to pay and because I live here they can't get housing benefit to help toward it and it also means they have to pay the full whack in council tax.
I can't think about what's best for me because unlike everyone else I don't think I deserve much and don't rank my needs very highly. Not that I don't resent myself and everyone else for that. I'm a contradiction in terms I know but it's just how my mind works. So the deciding factor was always going to be how it left everyone else. And so I slowly started to get a little comfortable with the idea. Trying to imagine what it would be like to have central heating, a working bathroom and a proper bedroom. All I have right now is a small box room with a divan jammed in than has mould growing up the walls And it was a nice idea that my parents could visit and enjoyt these little luxuries too while the social worker I'd arranged helped them out. I was still worried about the finances but I was promised by the CMHT that they would make sure that everything was taken care of and reassured me that everything would go at my pace, not theirs. Which made me feel like i could exhale again for the first time in over a month.
And then time seemed to pass without me obsessing about it or even hearing anything about it. The housing association couldn't find the keys. The previous tenant had taken them with them when moving out. And I've got to be honest I was more than a little happy for the stalling time, to give me room to move and breathe again. So I focused on other things, my overeating, my finances. Trying to get out more and become more social. The culmination of which was a trip to Glasgow to meet a fellow twitterer and go to a concert. None of which I'd ever done alone. I was doing okay. Apart from of course lashing myself senseless over my concert meeting. I'm never kind to myself when I meet new people and want them to like me. So my mood had dipped again. I had let go of basic needs again. My hair hasn't been washed since that night and its now almost a month later. I've given up on the crafts that I started. Stopped going out as much again bar two jaunts out by myself into town to meet my psychologist and support worker. And yet again my sleeping pattern is all over the place. I've spent weeks oversleeping massively, sometimes 20 hours. I wasn't getting up before 4pm. Yet now in the last week I can barely get a wink.
I was running on fumes when I met my support worker at the gym on Wednesday. My limbs were heavy and I was aching all over and developing a headache but I was trying to pull it back. I was determined to go and work out despite how I was feeling. So I made the short walk to the community centre. And despite feeling physically rubbish I thought I was doing okay mood wise. I didn't feel desperate or too anxious. That was until she told me I could finally see the flat. I think I thought that day was never really coming. I'd erased it from my mind. And suddenly all the pros and cons in the world didn't matter and my chest began to tighten. I tried to shake it off but it was obvious I wasn't doing a great job from how often she was asking if I was doing okay. I could barely make a peep and my focus was shot. I was trying to focus on what we were talking about but my mind was darting all over the place. And I suddenly became very aware of all the other people in the place. Especially the men, whom I'm particularly uncomfortable around at the best of times. So I couldn't help but glance at all these people and wonder how they did it. They all seemed so content.
They were definitely a darn sight more fit and healthy than me and I couldn't help but start undermining myself compared to all these perfect physical specimens. How ridiculous I must have looked to them, shuddering in with my parka on and wearing men's leisurewear because I can't get anything from the women's department at Tesco to fit comfortably. Everything was so sculpted and I wanted to hide my form, drown it out. So everything I was wearing was as baggy as I could get it. Which isn't very when you're my size.
As I walked for ten minutes on the treadmill I couldn't drown out the rhythmic thumping and breathing of the man running at high speed on the machine two rows down. Here I was and I could barely walk 3 miles per hour and he was running a marathon in front of my eyes. How did he shut out the world like that? He seemed to almost be in a trance. I somehow made it through the ten minute walk which had left my ankles screaming in pain. So i wiped down the machine trying hard to stare at the floor and not catch anyone's gaze and wandered down the quieter end with the upright bikes and the televisions. I thought riding the bike for 10 minutes with nothing to look at but the news would help me block everything out. But I was wrong, I could feel the panic starting to build in the pit of my stomach. That hard heavy weight vibrating out to all my extremities, I swallowed it back as hard as i could and focused on what I was doing, closing my eyes. I wasn't even talking to SW like I usually do when I'm out.
When I got off the bike I could feel my legs wanting to run as my head and face became hot with the building terror. I coughed and choked as it tried to make its escape and I didn't know what to do. SW asked me if I wanted to leave but I said no. In all my time in psychology I was always told never to give in to the panic, stick with it as long as you can because it will finally ebb away. So I wandered back up to the treadmills feeling far too insecure to wander into the jungle that was the weights, with all the huffing and puffing and traffic. I set the treadmill for 10 minutes again and stared solidly at the clock even though I was fidgeting uncontrollably and marathon man was still thumping away and as if to show off he turned the speed up yet again and the treadmill made an awful screech as if it was begging for mercy. I was probably physically shaking my head by this point and breathing heavily. It's always a tell of mine when I'm agitated. I had managed two minutes so far and was rocking somewhat as I strolled on the machine. The final straw came when one of the men that had been using the weights stepped up on to the machine beside me and started running. My brain just cried out and I knew I couldn't take anymore I stopped the machine as quickly as I could and tried to keep myself composed to wipe it down and let SW know I was going outside for a breath of fresh air. But as I turned after finishing that sentence and was making my way to the door I started hyperventilating louder and louder and more uncontrollably and I could feel everyone's eye's focused upon me. People stopped what they were doing to look. I just kept my head down and marched past them all as I tried to swallow it back and regain some repose but i couldn't and was so glad to break through into the open air where I could let go and shake and cry and try to get it back together.
Even though in panic attack terms this was fairly minor it still leaves you drained, you can feel the energy rushing out of you and it can take almost 2 hours after one before the shaking and tension finally abate. SW had followed me out and we talked in the car and she tried to reassure me. And I do know that she wants what she thinks is best for me but its not necessarily what I think is best or what I think I deserve. I feel uncomfortable sometimes by how genuinely she seems to care for me. I'd be much happier with some professional distance because it only adds one more person to the pile that I'm worried about disappointing. And I do worry about disappointing her. And if anything I want to do this move as much for her as it is to improve my parents life. I've never really come into the equation. Not in my own mind anyway. I walked it off and made an appointment with her to meet her Thursday morning to view the flat with my brother. Who eventually couldn't come because he was trying to sort out important finances. Try as I might though that night I couldn't put it out of my head and even though I was exhausted from the panic attack and not sleeping I still didn't get a wink of sleep that night.
Thankfully I didn't need to tackle public transport this morning. I wasn't really in a place to do it. Dad had an appointment with his GP and gave me a lift in the taxi he took. I tried to calm my nerves in the short walk toward the flat but I couldn't help but feel unsure. I wanted to be hopeful and was trying to remind myself of all those pros that had been brought to my attention. I was a little early so amused myself by browsing Twitter on my phone and trying to be as inconspicuous as you can hanging around on a street corner. Eventually SW and then the housing association people showed and we made our way into the building. I was first struck by how how steep and narrow the stairs were and how my parents would never be able to climb them to come visit which made my heart sink.
It was the top flat and not the bottom one I had been expecting. As we made our way through the door I was struck by how dark it was and how tatty the decor had been left. Everything was untidy and in some cases dirty. But it was a very large space for a flat in these parts. It had one massive bedroom and one small. A small lounge, bathroom and kitchen. whoever had lived there had written their name on the bathroom wall in nail varnish and left behind a treadmill. Because I was looking for the place to be furnished as I don't own anything of my own I was told whatever remained here at the moment that wasn't broken or could be fixed had to stay and there was no money for redecoration. despite the double bed in the bedroom being threadbare on the base I was told I'd probably only get a replacement mattress. I wasn't really taking it all in though I have to be honest. I couldn't even begin to imagine myself here. I was too uncomfortable being around so many unfamiliar faces who were asking me constantly what I was thinking. I'm not sure I was thinking at all. I think my mind was on mute and my body was on autopilot.
As we stood in the current lounge and I stared at the gaudy furniture and awful palette of colours I was told that I was expected to give my answer today as to whether I'd be taking the flat. That was a punch in the gut and sure woke me from my walking stupor. I mumbled that if I could I'd like to talk to some people first and have my brother see the place as he was moving with me too. She stared down at her list and told me I could come back same time tomorrow with him but I must give them an answer. I think SW could see what a panic it was sending me in too. So in her own way she tried to get my thinking on track, reminding me of all the reasons I should take it and that if I didn't like it I could always go home. She said if I let this one go it could be 5 more years before i was offered anything else and meanwhile nothing could be done for my parents because they wouldn't be entitled to help with me at home. I felt bombarded. I know they were trying to help but I just wanted a little peace and was feeling a little nagged. So I was glad to get out of the building. I stood on the street for a moment as SW asked me if I wanted a lift and if I would come back tomorrow. I promised her I would and she told me not to stress about it but seriously think about taking it. At this point I was doing my best to hold back the tears that were forming and swallowing back against the lump forming in my throat.
I wandered off and around the corner after leaving them and tried to call my mother and brother for a little comfort but when they did finally answer i couldn't bring myself to say anything. I must have looked like a caged lion as I paced around at the bus stop waiting to get in to the town and see my family who were sorting out other matters. As I got on the bus and my mind recounted what had just happened I started quietly sobbing. So as to get some control back before seeing my family I got off the bus early and walked the rest of the way the breeze whipping against my wet face. Try as I might though when I eventually did see them I couldn't keep it in and was openly upset outside the social work department, I felt so mixed up and didn't know what to do. They calmed me down and left me in the waiting room as they took care of their own matters.
After which we went back into the next town overs centre and wandered around Morrison's before grabbing something to eat in the cafe. felt better there with them and we even laughed and joked while eating our lunch despite all have rather rubbish days. But as time wore on I felt sapped and so opted to pay for a taxi home because the bus wasn't due for another hour yet. As we recounted what had happened to each of us to my father when we got back in I began to feel agitated and upset again and the hard lump and tears returned. So I grabbed some clean PJ's from the top of the dryer and went upstairs to try and get some sleep. Maybe then I'd find some rationale and the emotions would take second place. I'm not sure how long I was asleep but I was awoken at 5pm from a call from SW. She wanted to talk over the day with me and again hammered home all the reasons why I couldn't give up this opportunity and then she said "I don't mean this in a bad way but if you don't take this flat and try it's almost kind of selfish because your parents won't get help with housing or council tax" that did it for me I was lost in a spiral again but held it together long enough to talk her off the phone. I was complacent and agreed just so I could get some peace again. After the call finished I rolled over and went back to sleep because being awake was too confusing and painful.
I eventually gave up the ghost at 10pm and shuffled downstairs were I was told my best friend had been trying to get a hold of me. I wasn't really up to it but knew I should call her back in case it was anything serious. As soon as she answered and asked how I was doing, I crumpled. Muffled tear filled responses followed in the kitchen about how much stress i felt I was under and I had no idea what to do. In fact the fact that everyone had been so adamant today only made me want to withdraw and tell them no. She reassured me and told me if I needed back up tomorrow that I should call and she'd come. And she told me that she wanted what was best for me and she felt the move would be good for me because I could do what I want and feel more independent and I'd be close to her so would always have support. But she said that it didn't matter what she thought or anyone else, it's what I wanted at the end of the day and she'd be behind me 100%. That was two hours ago now and I'm none the wiser. I just knew I had to get this all out and down in plain English so maybe then I'd be free to look at things from a clearer perspective. And I welcome any opinions. Right now I'm a jumble and don't think I'll be sleeping tonight
Monday, 7 February 2011
Tug of War
Sundays have never been good days for me. Growing up there was always a 50/50 chance of an argument. Usually surrounding Sunday dinner. Now years later after these arguments have finally abated and the people involved have mellowed with time, it still leaves me cold. Whatever hour I wake, without fail, there's an impending sense of doom. Foreboding sitting heavily upon my chest. And I almost feel as if I can't catch breath because of it. My eyes dart around the room and I'll stare up toward the ceiling. I'll then glance over to the curtain and try to gauge what hour it is before rolling over and squinting at my mobile. Usually then I'll roll back over and close my eyes to try and force myself back to sleep. All without a sound.
And the quiet is key. I try hard most of the time to appear calm on the outside, no matter what's raging inside. That's not to say I don't ever lose control in front of people I don't want to. I've had my fair share of public panic attacks. The looks on people's faces really are priceless once you've screamed and cried uncontrollably in front of them. They edge a little farther away and stop talking to you directly, asking whoever's with you instead what the matter is and if you're okay. I hate those moments, especially when it's around people I care about. When you come too and realise what's happened, you see the colour has drained from their face, my mother is usually in tears trying to calm me and scared as hell because they don't know what's happening. Heck I don't know what's happening most of the time when I'm in a bad one. The worst one I ever had, I actually lost time. Total blackout. Almost fifteen minutes of my life gone. When I came too I was crouched down beside the radiator in the front hall and my Father was screaming at my mother that it their fault while my mother was yet again trying to console me.
So I try with all my might to keep things in check, no matter what I'm feeling no matter what is swimming around my head others can't know. Twitter actually helped with that. I found a place where i could open up and not feel as guilty. And I do feel guilty. I hate to make people worry. And I hate to feel like a burden. Or worse yet a complainer. And I feel that way every time I do open up. Especially compared to what everyone else has to deal with.
Of course there's that part of me that I explained in my first blog post that does cry out for attention. And that part likes whatever kind of attention it gets because it needs to feel special and wanted. These two extremes are constantly at loggerheads. And I'm caught in the middle. So I don't know what it's okay for me to feel and express and what isn't. I feel stretched between them and so mixed up that its affected how I deal with people. And that is I don't. It hasn't made me very good friend material. And it makes me want to withdraw. Because I'm comfortable with the quiet. And talking is hard. So very hard somedays. I try with my best friend to swallow the hard lump stuck in my throat and be there but its all very half-hearted. I can't but help thinking the whole time that I don't want to be on the phone. I can't listen to more problems because I'm all caught up in my own and they've got me drowning. And I hate the question, how are you? Because no one really wants to know. Who wants to know that the real answer everyday is not good? Terrible in fact. Who wants to hear that day in day out? So you sigh and you say I'm okay, I'm fine or some variation. Or some days you'll hint at how you're doing but never go into detail and switch the subject because it's tiring for you too. To have to think it and feel it and say it.
And that's why I prefer the PC because it doesn't judge & it doesn't demand anything of me. I can lose myself in TV shows, games or social networking sites if I've got the energy. It never really silences the constant grind of negative thoughts and whispers in your head but it helps. You can zone out and let time slip past till you can go to sleep again. Sweet sleep. Although I'm not sure why I call it sweet. The anxiety usually seeps over into your unconcious and nightmares are par for the course, so your already fractured sleep becomes all the more erratic.
Friends on the other hand, demand energy, empathy and a whole host of other things that most days I don't have a hope in hell of providing. And it makes me insecure because I don't want to be this shitty friend, who can't talk and be honest with people. And gets exasperated at taking a call. Who can't be there when they're needed. I want to be a good friend, a caring friend. Someone who looks forward to hearing from you. Someone who always says the right things and is there at the right time. So I constantly weigh myself against others in my friends lives and panic. Even my twitter friends. Just earlier tonight I saw a few of them talking and it was an arrow in the heart. And all those little voices couldn't have been happier. "See" they would say. "We told you that they don't really care about you" "Why would they" "What have you ever done for them" "There's no way you could be as funny or as interesting as the people they are talking to now and you know it" "They know it too". "They''ll get tired of you soon" "tired of your bullshit". "You're always going to be second best" "They don't need you, they never needed you".
I'm forgettable. I've always been forgettable. And I've always felt I needed some sort of schtick when it comes to friends. Something that I could be or do for them that no one else would or could. I was never good enough just on my own. I have to be caring, compassionate, always available, always willing to do things for them. And if I'm not all of these things then I'm not a good friend in my eyes. It has led to unhealthy habits. Like giving friends money that I tell them never to pay back. After all what are friends for? I do my best to buy them gifts, pushing myself to my financial limits to do it. If they ask me to do anything for them, I automatically say yes. I don't even think about it. Doesn't matter if it's terrifying, costly or immoral. I'm so terrified of letting them down. I worry that they'll leave me the instant that I can't be of use to them. These compulsions aren't limited only to friends, it's the same way with charities. It also feeds into my insecurities so whenever I see a chugger or big issue seller if I've got money on me it goes to them. If I don't have the money I feel sick to my stomach, so deeply ashamed I'll go out of my way to avoid them.
But then there are the moments were that other little voice takes over and the resentment builds and I'll find myself a snarling beast. Mad at the world. Wondering why no one ever does anything for her? Why does she always have to come to the rescue? And it gets angry at everyone who can't see through the veil and see how much its suffering. And a part of it wants them to suffer too. It just wants to spread its poison far and wide, till everyone feels just how it does. And they'll never make the mistake of ignoring her again.
It's like having an angel and a devil boxing inside your head for control and while they're throwing punches you're just left confused and lost inbetween. So you withdraw because you're never sure how you're going to feel or act at any given moment and they jostle for command of the helm. But I don't want it to be that way. I don't want to be a timid mouse like creature one minute and a swearing, rage filled banshee the next. I want to be a more even tempered and candid person. Someone who's not afraid to speak up and doesn't agree willy nilly with people despite not agreeing with them or wanting to participat in what they're doing. Because that only leads to ammunition from the darker half who'll explode at the randomest of moments and woe betide anyone caught in her path. I want to want to be a part of people's lives and not feel insecure because I'm not being held up on a pedestal 24/7 and freaking out because they shock horror! talk to other people. I don't like being jealous or afraid.
What I'd really like to do this year is take the plunge and commit myself to people more. Make some phonecalls, write some emails and text from time to time instead of being incommunicado and thinking the occassional tweet makes up for it. And then on days like this when I'm feeling down I wonder if I can. If I ever will. The quiet quicks in and even though I read things I'd love to respond to, I can't. And if someone phones I'll try hard to converse but it gets me by the throat. Sitting in the pit of my stomach it wraps its tendrils around my vocal chords so no matter how hard I try I can't make a sound. It just sucks you in, like a black hole, nothing escapes its event horizon. It simply won't let you communicate. It just thrusts you into the vacuum of space and you wait for the end to come because you can't scream.
And the quiet is key. I try hard most of the time to appear calm on the outside, no matter what's raging inside. That's not to say I don't ever lose control in front of people I don't want to. I've had my fair share of public panic attacks. The looks on people's faces really are priceless once you've screamed and cried uncontrollably in front of them. They edge a little farther away and stop talking to you directly, asking whoever's with you instead what the matter is and if you're okay. I hate those moments, especially when it's around people I care about. When you come too and realise what's happened, you see the colour has drained from their face, my mother is usually in tears trying to calm me and scared as hell because they don't know what's happening. Heck I don't know what's happening most of the time when I'm in a bad one. The worst one I ever had, I actually lost time. Total blackout. Almost fifteen minutes of my life gone. When I came too I was crouched down beside the radiator in the front hall and my Father was screaming at my mother that it their fault while my mother was yet again trying to console me.
So I try with all my might to keep things in check, no matter what I'm feeling no matter what is swimming around my head others can't know. Twitter actually helped with that. I found a place where i could open up and not feel as guilty. And I do feel guilty. I hate to make people worry. And I hate to feel like a burden. Or worse yet a complainer. And I feel that way every time I do open up. Especially compared to what everyone else has to deal with.
Of course there's that part of me that I explained in my first blog post that does cry out for attention. And that part likes whatever kind of attention it gets because it needs to feel special and wanted. These two extremes are constantly at loggerheads. And I'm caught in the middle. So I don't know what it's okay for me to feel and express and what isn't. I feel stretched between them and so mixed up that its affected how I deal with people. And that is I don't. It hasn't made me very good friend material. And it makes me want to withdraw. Because I'm comfortable with the quiet. And talking is hard. So very hard somedays. I try with my best friend to swallow the hard lump stuck in my throat and be there but its all very half-hearted. I can't but help thinking the whole time that I don't want to be on the phone. I can't listen to more problems because I'm all caught up in my own and they've got me drowning. And I hate the question, how are you? Because no one really wants to know. Who wants to know that the real answer everyday is not good? Terrible in fact. Who wants to hear that day in day out? So you sigh and you say I'm okay, I'm fine or some variation. Or some days you'll hint at how you're doing but never go into detail and switch the subject because it's tiring for you too. To have to think it and feel it and say it.
And that's why I prefer the PC because it doesn't judge & it doesn't demand anything of me. I can lose myself in TV shows, games or social networking sites if I've got the energy. It never really silences the constant grind of negative thoughts and whispers in your head but it helps. You can zone out and let time slip past till you can go to sleep again. Sweet sleep. Although I'm not sure why I call it sweet. The anxiety usually seeps over into your unconcious and nightmares are par for the course, so your already fractured sleep becomes all the more erratic.
Friends on the other hand, demand energy, empathy and a whole host of other things that most days I don't have a hope in hell of providing. And it makes me insecure because I don't want to be this shitty friend, who can't talk and be honest with people. And gets exasperated at taking a call. Who can't be there when they're needed. I want to be a good friend, a caring friend. Someone who looks forward to hearing from you. Someone who always says the right things and is there at the right time. So I constantly weigh myself against others in my friends lives and panic. Even my twitter friends. Just earlier tonight I saw a few of them talking and it was an arrow in the heart. And all those little voices couldn't have been happier. "See" they would say. "We told you that they don't really care about you" "Why would they" "What have you ever done for them" "There's no way you could be as funny or as interesting as the people they are talking to now and you know it" "They know it too". "They''ll get tired of you soon" "tired of your bullshit". "You're always going to be second best" "They don't need you, they never needed you".
I'm forgettable. I've always been forgettable. And I've always felt I needed some sort of schtick when it comes to friends. Something that I could be or do for them that no one else would or could. I was never good enough just on my own. I have to be caring, compassionate, always available, always willing to do things for them. And if I'm not all of these things then I'm not a good friend in my eyes. It has led to unhealthy habits. Like giving friends money that I tell them never to pay back. After all what are friends for? I do my best to buy them gifts, pushing myself to my financial limits to do it. If they ask me to do anything for them, I automatically say yes. I don't even think about it. Doesn't matter if it's terrifying, costly or immoral. I'm so terrified of letting them down. I worry that they'll leave me the instant that I can't be of use to them. These compulsions aren't limited only to friends, it's the same way with charities. It also feeds into my insecurities so whenever I see a chugger or big issue seller if I've got money on me it goes to them. If I don't have the money I feel sick to my stomach, so deeply ashamed I'll go out of my way to avoid them.
But then there are the moments were that other little voice takes over and the resentment builds and I'll find myself a snarling beast. Mad at the world. Wondering why no one ever does anything for her? Why does she always have to come to the rescue? And it gets angry at everyone who can't see through the veil and see how much its suffering. And a part of it wants them to suffer too. It just wants to spread its poison far and wide, till everyone feels just how it does. And they'll never make the mistake of ignoring her again.
It's like having an angel and a devil boxing inside your head for control and while they're throwing punches you're just left confused and lost inbetween. So you withdraw because you're never sure how you're going to feel or act at any given moment and they jostle for command of the helm. But I don't want it to be that way. I don't want to be a timid mouse like creature one minute and a swearing, rage filled banshee the next. I want to be a more even tempered and candid person. Someone who's not afraid to speak up and doesn't agree willy nilly with people despite not agreeing with them or wanting to participat in what they're doing. Because that only leads to ammunition from the darker half who'll explode at the randomest of moments and woe betide anyone caught in her path. I want to want to be a part of people's lives and not feel insecure because I'm not being held up on a pedestal 24/7 and freaking out because they shock horror! talk to other people. I don't like being jealous or afraid.
What I'd really like to do this year is take the plunge and commit myself to people more. Make some phonecalls, write some emails and text from time to time instead of being incommunicado and thinking the occassional tweet makes up for it. And then on days like this when I'm feeling down I wonder if I can. If I ever will. The quiet quicks in and even though I read things I'd love to respond to, I can't. And if someone phones I'll try hard to converse but it gets me by the throat. Sitting in the pit of my stomach it wraps its tendrils around my vocal chords so no matter how hard I try I can't make a sound. It just sucks you in, like a black hole, nothing escapes its event horizon. It simply won't let you communicate. It just thrusts you into the vacuum of space and you wait for the end to come because you can't scream.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)