I don’t want to live in this world anymore

I don’t want to live in this world anymore,

If I’m a woman I’m obviously a whore.

If I’m a daughter I belong to a man,

And if I’m getting older only marriage is my plan

I’ve tried and failed to be worthy of air,

Suffocating whilst people don’t care.

I don’t know how to tell you, that I’m losing my will.

The voice inside me tells me that I’m ill.

I don’t know how to say I don’t want to live,

Or that I have nothing left to give.

I am truly exhausted I’m sorry to say,

Trying to live until today.

I’m ending my life, and I’m sorry I must.

Though I hope the world I leave will turn fair and just.

I find no point in continuing to breathe,

And if there’s a God he’ll know there’s no need.

For in my mind I know I’m already dead,

My wishes unfulfilled, these fires left unfed.

Look, I’ll be honest with you I have tried,

But in the end these tears I’ve cried,

Would make you an ocean, or a raging sea.

The same I must take refuge in if I’m to be free.

There’s no point to me, don’t you see?

The sea is calling, it calls to me.

 

(A poem by me.)

I need to process my grief, before I can look to the future

It’s been almost two weeks since I resigned from my job.

It’s been difficult, and I’ve slept a lot. I haven’t done any gardening, ‘spring’ cleaning or work.

But I’ve been keeping myself busy by going out here and there and starting a new diet and exercise regime. But it’s only stopped me from thinking about my issues. And today it all came to a head when I finally had a ‘bad’ day again, after about a week of fairly OK ones.

I’m finding increasingly that I have some bad childhood memories circulating around my mind. And I think it’s because I’ve stopped moving forward in life, that finally my mind is having a chance to process what I’m feeling from my past.

The memories are all to do with humiliation, force, and fear.

They all involve males, too, unsurprisingly. My mother told me that when I was younger, I suffered from an uncontrollable fear of people in white coats. This is evidence that my earliest bad memory is not just a conjuring of my mind. It is real. Without going into too much detail, it involves a man in a white coat crossing the boundary of my consent as a toddler, invading my space and bodily autonomy, and; needlessly undressing me.

As I grapple with these memories, some involving groups of boys as a pupil at a school, I find they cross into my most recent experiences involving bad relationships with men.

But my problems do not end there. They interweave with all sorts of issues, the main one being a lack of self-esteem and confidence.

Most of my anxiety and depression comes from these factors. And when I’m triggered, they all come flooding to the surface.

All of this means that hopefully I am processing what is inside my mind during my time off from work, responsibility and commitment. I am trying not to do anything stressful, like go out at busy times to shopping centres etc. But it is hard, especially when I feel like such a failure for quitting life. But I am only doing it to process all of the grief I carry with me, so that I can look to my future with minimal hindrance.

Who knows if this is going to work? I’ll keep you posted. Thank you for reading this. It means a lot to me that there are people who like my posts and resonate with what I am going through.

 

 

I’d rather have cancer than suffer from anxiety…what a terrible but brutally honest thing to say

At least with cancer, there is an end result. Survive. Or die. With anxiety, there is no relief.

I called someone at work (my job), (after some moments gearing myself up to call) and told them I won’t be in today as I am not feeling very well.

I’ve been suffering from abdominal pains, and it’s probably because of my anxiety.

Guess what I’ve been doing the last three weeks? Since my last blog about leaving work?

I tried to ‘get my shit together’ and go back to work. I can only tell you that right now I am a former shell of myself.

I am exhausted. My head feels full to bursting. My anxiety is overwhelming.

And I’ve been thinking about hanging myself in all honesty.

I made a decision to leave work. And then I berated myself and I didn’t.

And I’ve spent all weekend, absolutely tortured. Going from tears to anger. And cancelling plans to go out for dessert and a movie at the cinema, because my depression told me I’m a worthless piece of shit, and my anxiety confirmed it. All because work is part of my life, and life and everything in it is overwhelming right now.

I was never one to admit I suffered from these things. Depression. Anxiety. But the truth is I do. And I don’t take medication for it, or receive counselling or therapy. (That’s because I believe these things don’t help, and the stigma attached to them will destroy your life better than mental health can – but that’s another blog).

And it’s so hard, when your mental health starts to affect your physical health.

I have pushed myself all of the time, and I don’t even know if I am going to follow through and leave my job and take time off like I said I would. A few years ago, I was going to take a sabbatical. I didn’t. Now I am a graduate in Masters level degree. No time off. Then I went straight into a stressful job. No time off.

All i know is today I had to call in sick. Because my mind just wont shut off.

I couldn’t sleep properly. I keep waking up. And when I managed to get to sleep last night I had a dream I lost most of my hair. I could see part my bald head. Then I had a dream I was stuck on top of a very large cliff. And I had to find a way to get down.

These dreams tell me I’m not happy. Well, of course I’m not. But I tried you know? I tried to be normal and go out and work and do all the things people do.

When I’ve tried to talk to people close to me, they tell me; just push past it. Or, don’t be a quitter… It makes me so angry that even to this day people don’t understand this isn’t about being lazy, or stressed out, or tired. It’s about a debilitating illness. Like cancer, except it’s invisible. I don’t know, sometimes I think cancer would be easier to handle. How sad is this thought?

I might go back to work tomorrow. I might not. Sitting at home doesn’t help either.

I’m stuck in a vicious cycle. Hell, I think it’s called. I’m in hell.

 

As the royal wedding takes place all I can do is cry

As the royal wedding takes place today, I’m left feeling slightly saddened by the fact that I am alone.

It’s a bit like that feeling you get on Valentine’s Day; when everyone who is in a relationship go out for meals together and I’m left reeling by the fact that my ex was already married when he met me.

I’m not bitter. Far from it. But it really doesn’t help when you’re feeling like a used rag, and other people’s privilege is plastered all over social media and the TV.

I guess it’s the men I have dated. I’m not exaggerating when I say that I relied on them for affection and protection as I suffer from anxiety. But in return for my own love they gave me sadness. None of them ever loved me. I was a commodity to them. They leave me black and blue whilst they enjoy their lives. Well, they’re the ones who left me. In the end, everyone always does. It’s probably due to my insecurities. But each time someone walks away it leaves me wondering; what is wrong with me?

One of them told me one day, as I continued to fall madly in love with him, that I cost him more than a prostitute. There was no safety harness then as I continued to plummet to a certain kind of death.

Why do I care so much? Marriage really isn’t at the top of my list. As I unpack my feelings I realise it’s because I feel inadequate. I feel worthless. And it’s these feelings that anxiety constantly reminds me to feel. And not just with the people who I form relationships in my life. It’s also my professional life too.

Anxiety is that old, bitter man who stands above me whispering evil nothings to me, as a stark reminder that I am insignificant in the grand scheme of things. A small pawn in a world that couldn’t care less if I wasn’t here.

And as I continue to battle my feelings amongst the torn and broken relationships I’ve had with the people who have used me and left me, meanwhile a prince is about to make the beautiful woman he loves a duchess and his wife.

And all I can do is, well, cry.

abstract break broken broken glass
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Why Hattie Gladwell’s Twitter video of her snivelling pathetically annoys me

I’ve been posting about anxiety for a while now.

So basically it follows me around like a dark cloud of doom, and for years I have battled it.

And it’s true when I was younger I couldn’t handle certain situations like go out into the street or go visit relatives.

But you know what? I grew out of it.

I’ve been following Hattie Gladwell on Twitter, she is a reporter for Metro, a media news organisation in the UK. She regularly writes about mental health. And I cringed at her video crying about not being able to go to an event she’d been looking forward to.

The truth is, if you have enough willpower, you can train yourself out of pathetic little tantrums like not being able to get trains. You can train yourself to handle situations and feelings. You can rope them under control. Believe me; I’ve done it.

Sure, I get tired sometimes but I fucking make the effort. I will always go out of my way to go out into the world and challenge my anxiety.

The thing is, anxiety is something you can beat. I used to cry like Hattie when I was 17 or 18 years old. I’d tell her it does get better, but this victim-like stance mental health sufferers claim is getting tiresome now. There’d probably be some sort of backlash on me. You can’t choose how badly anxiety affects you! They are the same people who say that many would forget about mental health when the awareness week is over.

I know you can’t. My panic attacks and ‘death anxiety’ (waking up thinking that you’re dying) during the night affects me too. It’s just that I don’t sit around crying about it. I beat my anxiety, put one foot in front of the other; and just GO.

Watch Hattie’s Twitter video here https://twitter.com/hatttiegladwell/status/997151813597089793?s=12