The Not So Sugarcoated Truth

I guess I’ve been meaning to write a blog post for a long while now. It’s probably been close to a year if not more since I’ve written something about what’s been going on.
To be honest, it’s been a bit of a whirlwind year.. but more so a whirlwind couple of months.
Maybe I’ve been worried I’ve lost my little blogger spark to write, I think it didn’t help that for a year I did a job that I couldn’t really talk about for confidential reasons and it was something I felt so damn passionate about but I felt I couldn’t speak openly about it because of the nature of the work. In an nutshell I worked very closely with homeless people and for the most part absolutely loved it. Learnt a lot, even a lot about myself. It was hard and beautiful and easy and ugly all at the same time, but on the whole I loved what I did.
Now it’s a slightly different story, I work for a travel company which is pretty fitting I guess. I’m pretty useless with numbers and computers but hey we can’t al be perfect can we.

Aside from the standard work updates and the fact I’ve spent the last year living with two best friends in a lovely house.. there’s other stuff I want to talk about.

So I’ve spoken about it openly before, I touched on it in a few posts on here and the closest to me know that it’s been a part of my life for a few years now. For the last few years now I’ve been having anxiety and panic attacks and I’ve seen some pretty dark scary days with it. It’s shit, it sucks and I wouldn’t wish it on my own worst enemy no matter how much of a (bad word) they might be.

I’m not entirely sure what I want to write about ir how much detail I want to go into but I guess the closest friends and family know I’ve had a rough couple of months, to say the least. The first week was horrific, the second week I was just about functioning. The third week I went back to work and the fourth week I began to feel like I could breathe for the first time in what felt like a fucking lifetime. Without writing anything else I know some people reading will know already what I’m talking about but let’s just say a build up of anxiety, stress and then a very sudden break up. That’s pretty much all I’m going to really say about that, in respect.

Probably the worst feeling I’ve ever experienced when it all just exploded together. Literally like the whole world just fell on my shoulders and shoved me in the dirt. In really hard, rough dirt. Dealing with one thing on its own was tough enough but when it all hits within a matter of hours then you’re really tested. Looking back on that first week I didn’t even recognise myself. I lost a stone, I couldn’t go anywhere alone, not even to the loo at one point. I didn’t sleep or eat for about 10 days. I was so drugged up on sleeping tablets and beta blockers just so I was able to get an hours rest of be able to sit still without pacing or trembling so much I’d throw up. Fucking awful.

Anxiety or any mental health problem really is debilitating. You’re left having this war with your own mind about how and why could you possibly be feeling the way you are. You can be sat around the dinner table with your friends and family and suddenly it feels as if someone is holding a gun straight between your eye sockets. That shear wave of absolute adrenaline and fear that the worst is about to happen physically... but actually you’re still just sat there at the table. 

Hard to explain if you’ve not felt it. It’s one thing having it and your friends and family trying so hard to understand and be there but for then people to just up and leave.. leaves you feeling very alien. 

I’ve never experienced the lows before.. not properly. And thankfully I don’t think the lows are the main issue for me. I think it just comes after the (what I call) anxiety wave. 

You know that scene you often see in movies where the character is stood still but the world around them is spinning uncontrollably.. that’s what it feels like. 

It’s almost like watching an episode of some weird drama on tv. Literally unrecognisable. It didn’t happen over night. Biting the bullet and accepting help was the best thing I’ve done to get through it in the form of medication, friends and my family. Becoming so busy that I barely have time to sit and take 5 minutes to myself was also an exhausting way to distract myself. I mean, it either worked or I’m just so exhausted I just don’t care anymore. Of course I care, I care a lot. But I forgot what it felt like to wake up and be able to breathe without feeling like my heart and head were about to spontaneously combust and leave my body. It took a lot of endless pep talks and people sticking around and not making me feel stupid for feeling that way which got me trough. The endless nights my house mates would hold me for hours until I fell asleep and the meds kicked in, the phone calls my mum got 26 times in one night because I was alone and felt like my body was giving up and I was losing my mind. 

It takes getting to rock fucking bottom to pull yourself back up and gee I hope I never feel anything like it ever again. At times, I was prepared for it all to just end but you can’t. You just can’t. 

Alright, moral of the story.. it’s been shit and now it’s better and I wouldn’t have felt a lot better so quickly without some incredible people. 

It takes an evening to just sit and not be distracted by my big social circle to really look back and reflect. 

I’m not ashamed, I have been.. but I just hope by putting myself out there a little.. someone else doesn’t have to feel so isolated. 

It’s normal, we’re normal. You wouldn’t deny a diabetic insulin so why the stigma for serotonin medication. 

A little short and possibly not so sweet but.. that’s reality and I talk about the real stuff, not the sugar coated version.