Blue

If you have known me for more than a month, it is likely you’ve seen me on a ‘blue day’ – a period of time (sometimes a day, sometimes longer) where my depression and anxiety are royally kicking my arse, and I find it near impossible to cope.

During this time my insecurities manifest to point where I am convinced that I am sub-human, everyone secretly hates me, and I’d be better off if I just removed myself from the equation of life.

I also become insecure about the fact that I’m feeling depressed and anxious again, and am probably irritating my nearest and dearest with my apparent inability to be a happy person, instead I’m stuck in a seemingly endless loop of sadness, despite my best efforts.

My blue days are not always obvious, in fact I hide them quite well. Over the past few years I have created a facade of being a happy, smiley, confident person, which makes them almost undetectable.

Most people know about my blue days because I talk about my blue days. This is a recent revelation, which came about due to my hope, that by admitting my vulnerabilities, insecurities and flaws they could not be used against me, as well as being tired of pretending to be okay.

My platonic loved ones often tell me how much I mean to them; I am told I am brave, strong, beautiful, funny, admirable, smart, loyal, kind, as well as many other positive attributes either based on my personality or my appearance, unfortunately if I’m having a blue day I do not see this.

On a blue day I am in fact incapable of seeing this. On a blue day my internal vision is clouded by every negative thought, feeling, and experience I have gone through, I try to filter it out but the filter usually breaks, and the blue hue rushes over me, leaving me stained and bruised.

It’s a constant battle between myself and my own brain and it’s exhausting – a bit like playing Street Fighter when you and your mate want to both play as Ryu, so you end up playing Ryu v Ryu, and inevitably end up yelling at the screen because you can’t differentiate which Ryu is your Ryu, and you know it would have been far easier if you just played as Ken v Ryu, or Sagat v Zangief, or something, but instead it’s you v you, so you’re stuck in a paradox, scrambling for a way out.

Unfortunately, I have also found that my blue days are a breaking point for a number of people, and has laid waste to numerous relationships in my life, mostly romantic.

I have struggled with romantic relationships since my adolescence, having been bullied for my appearance in both my teenage and adult life, and having been in a series of emotional and physically abusive relationships, it’s often difficult for me to view myself as desirable. Adding to this the times where I have been desired romantically have been marred with ignorance, racism, and fetishism, which has made me skeptical that I will every truly find someone who loves me for me.

I often hear that in order to find love, you must first love yourself – that you have to be more confident, more positive, more … just more, but why do we always need to be more than who we are? Why can’t we be insecure, why can’t we be vulnerable, why can’t we be flawed? Why can’t we openly be shaped by our past?

People are not perfect, far from it in fact, so why are we so hellbent on pretending that we are?


If you’re experiencing similar thoughts or feelings to those expressed in this post, it’s okay to reach out for help. You can find information about what mental health crisis services are available, how they can help and their times of operation here: https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/guides-to-support-and-services/crisis-services/useful-contacts/ 


 

Eternal clouds of the anxious mind

Three weeks ago I moved to Brussels.

In the process of doing so I left behind my friends, my family, my hometown, and my sense of security and comfort.

I have moved cities once before, when I was 14. It was a move I did not want to make, but as a child at the time I did not have a choice in the matter.

Once I regained autonomy of my life and its decisions, I moved back to my hometown, after being accepted to study at the University of the Arts. I was the first person in my family to attend university, so for me this was a big deal.

Looking back at this moment, I harbour some regret.

I often feel that I should have moved further afield for university, like many of my friends did, although I have come to accept that at the time this was the right decision for me.

Eight months prior to starting university, I experienced the most traumatic experience of my life. An experience which altered my life permanently, and almost cost it entirely.

The fallout of this trauma includes; a criminal proceeding, countless therapy sessions, numerous suicide attempts, five years (and counting) of anti-depressants, flashbacks, panic attacks, breakdowns, homelessness, and a medical diagnosis for PTSD, major depression, and severe anxiety.

A difficult and trying adolescence/early twenties, with few constants, meant that my hometown, of London, became my safety blanket. The decision to leave it behind was an arduous one to say the least.

Although, over the past couple of years, I have felt like I have lost touch with my hometown. I used to know London like the back of my hand, and it made me feel safe.

However, following the Brexit Referendum and subsequent occurrences since, I began to feel like home was no longer my home. The negative aspects of my life seemed to become more prevalent, and so did my desire to escape my life there.

I applied for my traineeship in March, and was officially accepted in August. After securing a career break, I packed my worldly possessions into a storage unit (filtering out two suitcases of ‘essentials’), said goodbye to my friends, my family, and my home, and set off for Brussels, the new city which would act as my surrogate home.

Unfortunately since arriving I have started to experience increased feelings of fear, sickness, and hopelessness.

I felt fear when I first arrived, not knowing a single soul and not speaking either of the primary languages, served as a stark reminder that I was no longer surrounded by the familiarity of home, and that I was alone.

I felt sickness a week prior to moving, I began showing physical symptoms of ill health, centering around stomach pain and seemingly random bruising, which I attributed to stress. However, once I arrived the symptoms continued, and although they could be due to the stress of moving, I am concerned that they may be a sign of something far more sinister.

The hopelessness came following the sickness and the fear, as my anxiety and depression have worsened. I spent the last two days confined to the walls of my Airbnb, mainly sleeping and binge watching Netflix series. I’m at a loss of thought, I’m honestly not sure if I’ll survive this chapter in my life.

Looking over the trajectory of my life, through my adolescence and my adulthood, do things really get better with time?


If you’re experiencing similar thoughts or feelings to those expressed in this post, it’s okay to reach out for help. You can find information about what mental health crisis services are available, how they can help and their times of operation here: https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/guides-to-support-and-services/crisis-services/useful-contacts/ 


 

It’s been a while

I haven’t written in a while. I could excuse this with the reasoning of a distracted mind or a busy schedule, but in all honesty the carnival has been in full force. My mind has been riding through a rollercoaster of emotions, that I’ve been trying my best to process.

I try my best not to react to negative happenings in my life, with the full blown consequences of my catastrophic thinking, but this is a rather difficult try.

Perhaps it’s the fear of being hurt further, or my attachment anxiety running on high, but as soon as something negative happens in my life, or something unexpected, I have the tendency to run and hide, trying my best to ignore it and to shut it out. Often pretending that everything is okay.

Whilst running away from this I usually anger someone, and recoil further because I feel like I’ve let that person down. I spiral. I often spiral, and push back against the negativity with my own negativity which just pushes me into a state of irrational being, and pushes those close to me further away. This isn’t always noticeably visible, but it’s there.

I often find myself in states of feeling like I’ve let someone down, which often feels, in that moment, like the worse thing in the universe.

In retrospect, it isn’t the worse thing in the universe, but try explaining that to anxious overthinking me …

I overthink everything.

I relay my life bloopers during the day and during the night. I have trouble sleeping, often due to the omnibus of shitty or embarrassing incidents of my life playing on a loop. It’s not a good thing, and I’m working at getting better at coping with these. To control it and cope in a healthier way.

During my attempt to do this, I’ve realised a few things:

  • I will push some people away, but the worthy ones will stay.
  • It will take time, but the prolonging of time is why we have patience.
  • The process won’t always make sense in the moment, but that’s why we have retrospect.
  • It’s okay to not have clue what you’re meant to be doing, most people don’t.

One day I will have a method to compliment my madness, until then I think I’ll be okay just trying to make sense of it all as best I can.

Some days I’ll find the words to write about it and on others I won’t. I’ll go off on nonsensical tangents (see this entire blog post), and on other days I’ll construct more thought out pieces of expressive emotion. Each one will be an expression of myself, and will hopefully make one less person feel less alone in this unpredictable world.

We’re all just trying to make sense of our surrounding, and find our place in it.

It will take time, but we will get there.

Wobbles and blips

On Thursday, I had a bit of a wobble with my mental health, and with my journey to improve it.

Following a large work event, myself and my colleagues went to a bar to unwind and celebrate a job a well done, a combination of anxiety, sleep deprivation, and not really having eaten anything all day resulted in myself becoming blackout drunk. I woke up the next morning having lost my phone and parts of my memory.

I’m too embarrassed and ashamed to ask what I did in those blackout moments, but whatever it was I deeply regret.

Over the past few months, I have been actively trying to avoid excessive alcohol consumption, after connecting it to heightened feelings of depression and suicidal ideation, especially when I am already feeling low.

Despite alcohol acting as a temporary break from my reality, once its effect have worn off I am left in an emotional pit of despair, catapulted back into the reality I was attempting to escape. Even though I know this in hindsight, I still have blips which blind me from common sense, resulting in situations like Thursday.

When I drink in excess my mind sets itself to autopilot. I’m unaware of how much I’m consuming until it’s too late, and I lose control of my reality, with my mind slipping somewhere else entirely.

When I drink like this I’m often in a situation where I feel uncomfortable, such as crowded or unfamiliar places where I feel out of place, this causes me to feel on edge and triggers my anxiety. In these situations I use alcohol to drown out my anxious thoughts and fears, and also to fit in with those around me. If my peers are drinking, I often will too. It’s unhealthy but in that moment it’s a mechanism to cope.

I think its a fair assumption that most people have a desire to fit in and be a part of a community, to be liked, and to be wanted. In order to do this we follow the status quo of whatever situation we find ourselves in, so that we are not ostracised or rejected, this can sometimes lead us to do dangerous or harmful things at our own expense.

I am not holding other people accountable for this desire, I have my own free will and am in control of my actions, but although I know I shouldn’t feel the need to change myself to fit in with others, it is often easier to assimilate, particularly when you are already different.

Throughout my existence, I have often heard that it is cool to be weird, that normal is boring, and having a brain that isn’t wired quite right is just a fun quirk.  An example of this being the portrayal of the ‘manic pixie dream girl’ in film and television, which often romanticises mental illness as a plot device for the protagonist to fulfil his role as the saviour.

In reality mental illness isn’t fun, quirky, or cool. It’s exhausting. I would love to have a normal brain; one that isn’t damaged in anyway, that’s chemically balanced, that isn’t deafeningly silent on some days, and an carnival of chaotic thought on others. I would love a brain that is calm and works in harmony.

However, I know that in my present state this isn’t a possible reality for me, there isn’t a quick fix that magics away my problems, some nerdy guy in a vintage band t-shirt isn’t going to swoop in and save me. If I’m going to survive I’m going to have to save myself.

I’m going to have to learn to control the wobbles and blips and to identify there causation, but I also need to accept that I’m human, and humans are flawed. Some days I’m going to have bad days, and that’s okay. I’m going to have wobbles and blips, and that’s okay. I’m not perfect, and that’s okay.

I will keep trying to identify my problems and also continue to work to overcome them. It’s a process of trial and error, but I hope that one day I will learn to control the darkness and the fragments in my mind.


If you’re experiencing similar thoughts or feelings to those expressed in this post, it’s okay to reach out for help. You can find information about what mental health crisis services are available, how they can help and their times of operation here: https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/guides-to-support-and-services/crisis-services/useful-contacts/ 


 

Finding my balance

Thank you to everyone who has reached out to me, and offered their support. Your kind words and actions mean a lot to me and I appreciate them, and you.

When I’m struggling to cope with my depression I often forget that people genuinely care and love me. I convince myself that I am unlovable, unwanted, and unworthy of kindness from others. I focus on the love and the affection that is missing from my life, craving it so much it blinds me from the love and affection that surrounds me.

Depression is selfish in this way. It floods my mind with negative thoughts and convinces me I don’t know how to swim. It is often accompanied by anxiety, which can lead me to over analyse things, through a mindset of catastrophic thinking. I become afraid to tell anyone about the negative thoughts, out of fear of being judged or considered a burden. It convinces me that if I hate myself, then others must too.

This is however false; I am not a burden, and I am not widely hated or disliked. The support I have been shown over the past few weeks is evidence that I must be a half decent human being, if people are willing to lend a helping hand, and effectively fight to ensure that I stay in their lives, even on the bad days. I apologise for not recognising this sooner.

In the past I was afraid to speak openly and honestly about my mental health. I believed in the stigma that surrounds it, and I was scared that if people knew about the carnival inside my mind then they would disown me or use it to harm me in some way.

Some people have left my life when the topic of my mental health has come up, which is upsetting, but many people have also stayed.

Mental illness can be a difficult thing to cope with, especially when it is seemingly destroying someone you care about. When those some have left, I find myself wondering in moments following their departure how or why they have left, especially if they claimed to care about me. In hindsight, I can find reasoning in their decision. There is sadness for things lost but there is also appreciation and happiness for the things found.

In learning to control the carnival in my mind, I need to identify the good things in life, instead of dwelling on the negative and allowing myself to be blinded by it. In order to aid this need, I have started to keep a daily log which notes three things I have accomplished or enjoyed in my day.

I can’t change my past, and although there are things in it that I regret, I can learn to accept it as part of my history, and use it to shape a better future.


If you’re experiencing similar thoughts or feelings to those expressed in this post, it’s okay to reach out for help. You can find information about what mental health crisis services are available, how they can help and their times of operation here: https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/guides-to-support-and-services/crisis-services/useful-contacts/ 


 

Rumpelstiltskin

Last week I found myself at the edge point of a depressive episode.

I had received a message two weeks prior from my estranged father, who I hadn’t heard from in seven years. Instead of dealing with it rationally, I tried to drink it into submission, and bury it inside of me. This resulted in a bubbling of emotions, which eventually erupted in a cortisol fueled break in my stability. In summary: I cracked.

I rapidly spun into a depressive state, marred by the feelings of despair, loneliness, anxiety, and suicidal ideation. My previous post ‘Hold me like sand’ was written whilst in this state, it was a ‘cry for help’. I had fallen into a well of negative emotion, bought on by suppressing an unexpected occurrence, that had dragged up an armoury of feelings all targeted at my wellbeing.

I didn’t want this to occur but it was happening anyway. It was a cataclysm of external factors which didn’t fit neatly into my preexisting microclimates of things I knew how to cope with. I was out of my comfort zone.

I tried to ignore it but it was still there, and it was causing a rift of cognitive dissonance in my mind – I hadn’t spoken to my father in seven years, his neglect and failure to nurture me as a child caused me to show a great disdain towards him; when asked about him and I’d often respond with the rhetoric that ‘I don’t need him’ and ‘I’m better off without him in my life.’

However, this occurrence drudged up two questions from my childhood ‘why don’t they love me?’ and ‘why wasn’t I good enough?’

These questions are harboured in the foundations of who I am as a person, and are the likely causation of my attachment anxiety, which particularly manifest with romantic partners (something I hadn’t realised until a few days ago).

In the past I have reacted irrationally to the breakdown of a relationship, using targeted words and actions to cause the maximum amount of damage; because ‘I don’t need him’ and ‘I’m better off without him in my life.’ I feel rejected by that person so my brain uses its learned behaviour from my formative years in an attempt to protect itself.

I had thought if I continued to achieve in other areas of my life, than these questions would simply dissipate and cease to exist.

However, ignoring a problem doesn’t make it go away, identifying it as a problem and tackling it does – a bit like Rumpelstiltskin, if you can identify something you can solve it.


If you’re experiencing similar thoughts or feelings to those expressed in this post, it’s okay to reach out for help. You can find information about what mental health crisis services are available, how they can help and their times of operation here: https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/guides-to-support-and-services/crisis-services/useful-contacts/ 


 

Hold me like sand

Some days are not ideal in the timeline of our lives.

For the last couple of weeks I’ve been struggling to stay positive due to a mixture of internal and external factors. I have tried to combat these dark feelings through positive thought, medication, exercise, and seeking support from people who I thought could offer it.

Unfortunately, people can be unreliable and support is not always available. I have had one friend reach out to me and offer some support, and I am grateful for them. However, many others have ignored my pleas for help, or perhaps they have not seen them. I have felt like I’m drowning but no one else can see the water.

I have previously written about how we are not entitled to other people in life, and how each person in your life has made a conscious choice to be a part of it, but I will admit that feeling unwanted or shunned away is devastating.

My mind often drifts to lonely plains where the silence is so loud it’s deafening, and I struggle to sleep. I’m often jolted awake by unpleasant memories that have resurfaced. Sometimes the tiredness is so consuming that is reduces me to tears. I hope most nights that the salty droplets will ease my silence and bring slumber, but this rarely comes to fruition.

Some of you may see this as a complaining. You may argue that if I had an internal locus of control than I could control my emotions better, and I wouldn’t be feeling this way. To those of you who think this, I would like you to understand that complaining can often be a cry for help, please don’t dismiss it so callously.

Life is a mixture of external and internal things, parts can be controlled in a microclimate, but others are beyond your being. The external events that have befallen me are not ones I have sought out, but they have befallen me, and they have affected me.

I try to appreciate what I have. I am lucky to have a heartbeat and to have been given a chance at life, although not always ideal. I try to be sunny and happy in my demeanor, and mould my life with positive attributes and qualities, but some days in spite of this there are rain clouds in my sunshine.

I can be a roaring giant that brings warmth, but I can also be a faint flicker that is barely seen. My experiences have given me strength, but that strength has grown from the remnants of my battles, some of these battles are ongoing.

I implore you to be patient with one another and cherish those that come into your life, for they are on loan – hold them like they are sand even though they may slip through your fingertips.


If you’re experiencing similar thoughts or feelings to those expressed in this post, it’s okay to reach out for help. You can find information about what mental health crisis services are available, how they can help and their times of operation here: https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/guides-to-support-and-services/crisis-services/useful-contacts/