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 gave myself therapy, and I can’t go on any longer

Since I was a child, I have given myself cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT).

I have never been particularly interested in jumping on the bandwagon about mental health, and have always fought through my anxiety and depression.

Recently, I quit my dream job, which I had worked so hard to get, because I just couldn’t continue with life anymore. I basically ran out of steam.

Now, I’ve begun to follow people suffering with mental health issues, and also mental health charities via blogs, social media and vlogs.

Never have I felt so alone.

I read posts, and experiences and offers of ‘help’. And it just makes me angry.

I’ve never been taken seriously with my issues. My family don’t really know how to deal with it, and counselling failed me. I have a couple of sessions before I gave up in anger.

The recent ‘therapist’ also put some wild accusations about me, which are stuck in my medical records forever now. I can’t tell you how angry I am.

I have dealt with my issues alone. I have NEVER taken medication. I took Sertraline just once for a few days. I immediately stopped.

I am angry that I have had to live with myself in this way, and I have done EVERYTHING to try and live a normal life. I have pushed, and punished myself continuously. And for what? Now that I’ve crashed and burned, who is here to pick me up?

I have to do it all by myself, and feel tremendous amounts of guilt that I have to quit something I worked so hard for.

The only people supporting me is my immediate family. When people tell you help is out there: it isn’t.

No one fully understands mental health and on top of that there is a stigma that people say they want to shake, but they won’t.

A lot of people deny that mental health is an actual illness. But, I am living proof that I have tried to live a normal life with no help, WITH SEVERE ANXIETY. And even I have got to a point where I’m so exhausted that I can’t even carry my limbs properly.

What help can someone give? Artificial drugs? Give you ‘therapy’ that you’ve already given yourself?

I’ll get up again, dust myself off, and soldier on like I always do, when I’ve had a rest.

But who is to say, that the next time I crash and burn, that someone will be there to look after me that time?

And if I commit suicide, I’m selfish. And if I self-harm, it’s ‘common’. And if I go to the GP, I’m just another candidate for the ‘drug candy’ doctors so carelessly chuck at you.

AND IF I QUIT LIFE FOR A WHILE, which is what I have done now, I’m a quitter. I’m a loser. I’m a nobody. Well, that isn’t true. But it’s how the world makes you feel.

And if I didn’t quit, it’s okay just as long as I pay my tax, and spend my money on useless shit with credit I’ll pay back with difficulty. It doesn’t matter that my brain is slowly turning to mush.

This ‘we care’ bullshit. It isn’t real. So buckle up, soldier. The war is still going on, and this is just one of the battles you’ve lost.

 

I had to quit my dream job because of anxiety

So, mental illness is ruining my life once again.

I’m on edge all of the time. My skin is literally crawling with this edginess like spiders.

I feel terrible because I’ve had to quit an amazing job, an amazing opportunity all because I’m too ill.

The job is great. But my mind isn’t.

Here is what’s happening.

I began working and it was fantastic. But I was overwhelmed. And the stress and anxiety was soon starting to show in my face. I felt physically exhausted. I am in pain – I may have a stomach ulcer from the stress. I began to get blood in my stools. I couldn’t sleep. I’d cry all day on a Sunday. And every other day I felt like I had to keep up a facade.

I needed to take time off. So I ran away. I emailed and left. After a short period of time.

Thankfully, they understand. And want me to reconsider.

I’ve said I am not well and hopefully I can reapply once I’m well again. I am unsure how long that will be. Currently I don’t know what their response will be, but at least my relationship with them hasn’t been destroyed. That’s the most important thing right now regarding my professional life. So I can leave it on a shelf with my reputation intact to pick up later when I am well again.

Sadly, they most likely assume it is physical illness. Because mental illness is still very much a taboo subject. A lot of people think you’re just being lazy, or not trying hard enough. But if mental illness was a physical illness, they’d understand right? Cos they’d see the big black tumor crawling up my brain.

So sometimes sadly it’s unfortunate but you must play it that way. Besides, this pain in my abdomen is worrying me. I do believe it’s either crohn’s disease, a stomach ulcer or maybe even a cancer. I don’t know, I should go get it checked out. But right now I don’t want to know. I don’t have to energy to worry about stuff. I’m just resting.

So. There you have it.

I’ve been suffering from anxiety all my life and I’ve pushed myself to do things. For years it’s been non-stop. Now, I finally had to say stop. No more. And sadly I had to drop an amazing opportunity because I just cant continue anymore. I NEED THE REST.

The rest includes other areas of my life. Rest from relationships; dating and friends. Rest from watching the news. Rest from talking too much to family members. Rest from going outside. Rest from people and crowds.

It’s a kind of retreat in a way. Retreating from the world to my shell for a short while. The shell i worked very hard to get out of. Like my exposed body has been taking too much of a battering recently so I have to go inside the shell to recuperate and heal. And when I come out in a few weeks I’ll have a tougher skin.

I had to do it now before I burned out.

And I feel terrible for it yes. But soon the benefits of eating better, exercising, taking long walks and sleeping in, writing stories, with ZERO stress in my life, will start to show. A few weeks of no money is a decent price to pay for my health. My bills get paid by my family, so while I am lucky in this sense I will take the time now, before I crash and burn.

Just a few weeks ago I was planning my suicide. I searched for viable bridges to jump from. I selected one. I planned the journey. If I don’t stop now, I will probably die.

So I’ve had to take this drastic action. I’ve called up my banks and said that I will pay them back very soon, but for now I’m sorry, I just can’t.

I’ve turned off all of my social media accounts and have had my phone in airplane mode for the last 24 hours.

I’m feeling on edge because of this whole awful business with me having to run away from a great job and lovely people. But I’m glad they responded kindly. Now I can just forget everything and relax. Maybe watch some Columbo.

 

 

Knowing this ONE bit of information will instantly lessen your anxiety

Oh my god people. The few followers that I have. Listen to me. I have just had an epiphany.

One that has already begun to make me feel better than I was just a few moments ago in my blog ‘I’m a lazy, depressed zombie’.

Knowing this ONE bit of information will instantly lessen your anxiety. But you have to believe it, okay? Have faith in this. Now it might not work for everyone, because we all have different types of mental illnesses and I’m no doctor.

Firstly, this is how my anxiety fixing epiphany came about. I went to the dentist today just for a check up. He said my teeth were fine thankfully (apparently I take good care of them) anyway, I said my gums bleed sometimes and he said it could be a bit of gingivitis, and to floss as well as use the products I do. That’s a simple solution to a physical problem.

So then I compared the issue of my teeth to the issue of my anxiety. And I figure that the problem is NOT my attitude or behaviour or even my confidence and self esteem. The issue is a physical one.

The physical problem of a chemical imbalance in the brain. Or hormonal imbalance. Armed with this information, I can categorise my anxiety as a physical problem, thus giving me a get out of jail free card to use my mental capacity to FEEL NORMAL. Am I making sense?

A physical impairment doesn’t inhibit my personality does it. So there you are, that’s my epiphany.

As I take a sigh of relief, safe in the knowledge that my mental disability is exactly the same as a physical one – you just can’t see it, I begin to realise that it isn’t ME that is the problem. I’m a pretty amazing human being. I’ve achieved lots and I go on to push my life to the farthest regions of success.

I’ve been working on my confidence and self esteem for years. I’ve built it up quite nicely. It runs above the physical impairment. They are not the same. And that’s the key.

I’m a lazy, depressed zombie

Wow.

I start my new job next week. And I have overwhelming amounts of anxiety.

To the point I can feel it in my head. It’s as though I could go under the knife and have it surgically removed. That’s how physical it feels. Like a big ball of pressure.

I’m feeling terrible. It’s gotten worse recently. Just really lethargic, slow and sad. Like a lazy zombie. Napping all of the time and hardly able to concentrate.

So, because I’m a writer – that’s what I do for work now, I wrote an article which has received quite a lot of hate recently. I don’t read comments online because my little anxious bastard brain can’t take it.

But that anxiety of the hatred I receive had added to my self doubts.

Today I was cleaning my car – I finally managed to make myself do it – and all of a sudden I just climbed into the boot and played dead. I don’t know why. It would be funny if it wasn’t so tragic!

I tell myself over and over that I’m doing just fine. My work is great. My life is good. I have friends and family around me. I have a new job. It’s pretty cool. So fuck off brain and just accept EVERYTHING IS OKAY. But it won’t. Nah cos beating mental illness isn’t like giving yourself a pep talk before giving a talk. Or taking a sip of Dutch courage.

It’s frankly impossible. So a zombie I am. And there’s no one there to help me. I’m all alone in this. Sometimes I wish I could just die. Stupid lost little fucking bitch.