Wow. I really don’t know what to say about the feedback I received from you guys yesterday after my first blog post on this page. I was inundated with glorious messages of support, love and surprise at how well I have hidden the issues I face on a day to day to basis. Fist bump to myself for being so devious. In fact, I was so overwhelmed with love that a lot of your messages made me cry. In a good way though, if there can be a good way of snotty rivers of tears cascading down your face.
A little card I found yesterday to start my soon to be new office wall of joy.
I’ve been thinking all day about how to follow up that first post and I still haven’t quite figured it out (it’s now 10.19pm on Saturday night, and yes, I am still sober and finished writing at 12.05am. Cut to, it’s now 9.17am on Sunday morning as I edit and cut down this epic post to a manageable size!) so I’m just going to ramble and see what happens.
One thing I will mention as a back story to all of the people who messaged me yesterday; I created this page in April/May time with the intention of telling stories to practise writing and build my confidence. As you know, it’s now September and I only published the page yesterday when I decided to write about living with anxiety. I’m kind of wishing I’d picked a better name for it, though the original idea came from a drunken conversation about what the title of your autobiography would be. Thunderlord the Almighty (CAT MENTION!) had just being diagnosed with feline acne (it’s real, google it) and so I chose “My cat has acne. And other stories.” Writing that now, it definitely reads as a “you had to be there” moment. It’s taken me months to find the courage to publish a blog and this page and the outpouring of love from people who read the piece yesterday was astonishing. So yeah, thanks. Awks.
Ooooh. I know what I was going to do. I was going to answer some questions people had asked me in messages last night. One thing I noticed is that nobody publicly commented on the blog or the Facebook page (and that’s fine!) which proved to me how much further we have to go before talking about anxiety and mental health issues is socially acceptable. Wouldn’t it be incredible if we could reach a point where people talk about their hidden battles without fear of judgement or retribution?
So, questions. These were all questions that came from messages I received yesterday.
- Why didn’t you tell me about this?!
That’s the fucker with anxiety, you see all of your flaws magnified by a billion percent and you assume that this is how everybody else sees you too. You assume that because your anxiety is all consuming, that everybody else can see it too. It was quite a shock for me yesterday to find out that my friends had no idea that I was struggling with anxiety, or even that I had ever suffered with anxiety, because I have never spoken about it to any of them. I have spoken about it, albeit probably very briefly, with my husband who supports me to manage social situations very well (most of the time, sometimes I can just fly off the handle and be completely unmanageable; thinking back to a couple of situations where I have sobbed in the car going to a party and refused to speak for the duration of the journey. “Of all of your weapons, your silence is the most violent.” - XX), and I should probably talk more with him about how it affects every aspect of my day and not just social events.
Opening myself up to such a level of vulnerability yesterday made me feel sick. I almost deleted the post/page/blogsite eleventy billion times in the space of an hour. This was after it took me an hour to even post it. The first message I received was not the most positive and suggested that I was hurting the people who loved me by “admitting unhappiness”.
Let me clarify one thing here, I am not unhappy. At this stage of my life right now, I am the happiest that I have EVER been. Anxiety doesn’t necessarily make you unhappy and doesn’t always have to walk hand in hand with depression. Whilst I have struggled with both in the past, that is not the case now. And let me assure you, my husband has never been more proud of me for speaking out in a bid to try and help other people know that they are not alone and that there is a safe space where people can find support if they need it.
Any issues I have are no reflection of the people that love me, they are only a reflection of myself. This type of dangerous thinking (your issues reflect badly on me) is exactly why people don't talk about this stuff.
The point to this rambling? I was walking on sunshine this morning. By opening myself up to people on such a terrifying level, I’ve started conversations with people that I never expected to have. Conversations that cement friendships even further, that give people a sense of community, that just make people feel less alone. I can’t even begin to describe the weight that I feel has lifted from my shoulders today. Yes, I may still be battling my demons but I am not doing it alone and I am no longer hiding it from anybody.
- What do you do to overcome your anxiety?
Ahhhh, well there’s a question. Yesterday, I learned that I need to talk about it with the people I love. Today I learned to move out of my comfort zone in tiny steps. Tomorrow I will learn something else.
Generally, I have had to learn how to identify when I am overwhelmed. I like to be Superwoman; always doing, achieving, winning and sometimes, I have to stop and admit that I can’t go on. Let’s go through some of the things I have done since January.
I hated my well-paid full time job, so I took a weekend bar job on and paid all of my credit cards off. I started saving money in an effort to have some savings available if I reached a point where I had to leave my full time job for the sake of my mental health. In March, that time came. I was at breaking point, I went home and never returned to that hellhole. And on the Saturday a few days later, when I cried during my shift at the pub about losing my job, synchronicity reared its beautiful little unicorned face and put a new opportunity into my lap. I chose a new opportunity and part time hours over another hateful 30k a year full time job.
At the same time, another community project opportunity came along and I took it in a mild panic. During the first week, I realised just how much I hated this kind of work. I gave myself the target of getting through a month to see if it improved. It did not. It got worse. I terminated my contract to avoid getting into the same positon that I was in before; in a job that I hated in a work environment that I despised. I (and my husband) acknowledged that earning 30k a year is not as important as happiness and emotional, physical and psychological health. I chose happiness over money.
I learned to say no. Some opportunities were too good to turn down, but for the sake of my health, I had to. I instead picked opportunities that were local to me and could help me develop friendships locally and try new experiences. I started to attend a poetry night in Stamford. I’ve just about reached a point where I would be comfortable going along on my own now as I know I would always know at least one person there. Well, I say that but I haven’t actually done it yet. Next time! And on those occasions when I was exhausted/worn out/just not feeling it, I said no and I didn’t go. I chose to miss out on things over exhausting myself. I also chose new experiences at home instead of thinking the grass is greener in the big shiny city. Not a way that I thought I would ever describe PBrizzle.
I made soooooo many new friends spending more time in my town. Unlike my husband, I’m not from Stamford and don’t have a network of childhood friends to fall back on. Well, I do because they’re brilliant and obviously love my brilliance, but there’s something about making friends of your own that is incredibly special, especially for somebody as socially incompetent as I am and being somebody who has never been very good at making, or keeping, friends. I love walking into town and saying hello to people I know, “it gives me an enormous sense of well-being” . I have always deliberately isolated myself and I am now in a position where I know that there is always somebody close by for whatever predicament I have found myself in. Like, you know, leaving your house keys in the car and your husband going to work so somebody with keys to your house has to come round and let you out of the house for work. That kind of thing. I chose the fear of making friends over socially isolating myself for fear of being rejected.
Hmmmm, what else have I done?
· I have changed my work hours around when I have needed a mental health day.
· I have chosen to work during social events so I can attend later in a more manageable timeframe for me.
· I have stopped putting pressure on myself to complete unachievable to do lists in ridiculous amounts of time.
· I have a night a week that is mine and I can do whatever I want with that time. Two hour baths, candles, incense, meditation (HAHAHAHAHA!), binge watching Salem on Netflix, gardening (don’t ask, it came as quite a surprise to me too) or just lounging about on the sofa with Lieutenant Colonel Niggles in luxurious cat poses (CAT MENTION NUMBER 2!). Also, Destiny 2 has just been released so my husband can get all of his attention from the X-box now.
· I have learned to listen to my body and recognise when I am walking on a very buttery knife edge. In fact, I listen to my voice and as soon as I start being Snappy McSnap Bitch, I start saying no to things and work out some self care.
· I avoid society during the week before my period. Even I, in all of my effervescent glory, can not control the rampant horror of my hormones. I take Evening Primrose (apparently good for PMS and not just the menopause) which does seem to have helped. I’m still a psychopathic fucking bitch for a few days a month though. Soz, can’t do anything about that and trust me, I have tried everything.
· I go to bed at a decent time (most of the time) and my alarm clock goes off at 6am every morning. Whilst I haven’t yet managed to actually go to the gym in the morning (which was the entire aim of this experiment), I have got into a routine that helps me feel rested.
· I’m working on my diet. This week has been all home cooked, healthy, delicious, soul nourishing food. I can only assume that it is the alcohol leaving my body that has resulted in Spotty McSpotface today. Fucked off is quite an understatement.
· I went to the dentist for the first time in years. I started brushing my teeth twice a day and using mouthwash religiously. I started taking my make up off every night religiously. I am creating habits to look after my teeth, my skin, my soul, my self. If I care about myself enough to look after myself in the best way I can, then I can only set the example to other people to look after me in the best way that they can too.
These are just some of the things I have been doing to feel more in control of my life. They might not work for you, in the same way that meditation and attempting to sit still and do it for five minutes never really worked out for me. The last time I tried, I ended up falling asleep for four hours. Don’t lie down. I’ll be working more on this over the next few months as I’m going to start setting myself daily challenges (which I will explain further on Monday).
- What support is there for me?
I’m not going to sugar coat it. If you can’t afford to pay for a therapist, there’s not a great deal out there unless you fit in the right box. I did not.
In December 2015, I went to the Doctor when I was at the bottom of a hole that I couldn’t see any way of getting out of. I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety and referred to an NHS counselling service. I received an appointment for this in March 2017, fourteen months after my initial doctor’s appointment. The same appointment where I was signed off work for eight weeks. By that point, I had resolved the issue myself.
I did go though. I thought counselling would help me tackle some of my negative thought patterns. I was ascribed a male counsellor (I had specifically requested a female counsellor for a number of reasons that I won’t go into here) who emanated the aura of a middle aged man who had made terrible life decisions and was trapped in a job that he hated. It didn’t work out well. I dumped him after two sessions and he then proceeded to call me, repeatedly, to ask why I didn’t want to have any more sessions. I had to eventually say that I had received better therapy from Lieutenant Colonel Niggles, and she was only a Sergeant then (CAT MENTION NUMBER 3!).
I did find a spectacular therapist who was, rather ironically, part of the staff welfare scheme at my last hellhole of a job. If you have some kind of Employee Assistance Programme, use it! She was incredible and I have recently considered going back for some finishing up work (the EAP would only fund 3 sessions, 3 additional sessions were funded on her recommendation so I had six sessions in total).
If you’re 16-25, YMCA in Peterborough had some funding for mental health support, though it is hard to say how long these programmes last as they are usually only funded for a year and that may have ended now.
Google any of the following charities: Mind, Time to Change, SANE, Rethink, Turning Point.
Even the NHS has a mental health page with support line numbers.
Call the Samaritans on 116 123, it’s a free phone number.
Call or message a friend.
Call or message me.
You are not alone. We are not alone.
One last time, thank you all of much for your support yesterday. You can not even begin to imagine the impact that your love has had on me. How exciting, to be at the start of a new journey surrounded by such glorious people.