Fear

On days like this, all my fears come out, and one huge one is the effect of my mindset on other people. The whole day today my head has been telling me I’m ruining my relationships. I didn’t want to talk to my housemates, so I hid away.

And my boyfriend, I have so much fear of telling him too much or pushing him away by not telling him enough. I constantly tell him that I won’t be like this forever, that it will improve when I finish uni and come back home. I am not one of these people who thrive at uni, I mean I’ve learnt a lot and have become a lot more independent, but this is where everything in my head sky rockets. There’s too much stress; money, work, uni work, trying to keep relationships and friendships going… not the walk in the park I thought it would be.

But yeah, the truth is, how do I know that this will subside when I finish uni? What happens if these feelings carry on and are always a little bit there. My fear is that he will give up on me, and after years of dealing with the same shit, saying the same shit to me, calming me down over the same things, me asking how my body looks and whether its changed and whether he still finds me attractive and blah blah blah.

He tells me that this will never happen, and honestly I believe him. This man is the most supportive, loving, giving person I have ever met and will ever meet. I love him with everything I have, and I know he feels the same for me. But I fear I will break him. That I will take advantage of his caring nature, that I become too self-absorbed with the ins and outs of my mind that I won’t talk enough about him. Or he is too afraid of putting anything on me, and so keeps it himself. I’m afraid I will hurt him. 

I know it is my head saying this, and I know that everyday is not the same. But in the darkness it’s hard to see yourself out. I just have to trust him and those around me. And myself – I won’t allow myself to be like this forever.

 

Went on a little 2.5 mile run today, wanted to do longer but needed to get back for dinner. This lifted my spirits a little, exercise always helps, as much as a fight against it! Also took a picture of the beautiful sunset on the way…

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Had a missed call from the CBT people today. – another thing that causes me fear. I’ve been avoiding booking an appointment, it’s telling another person about me and it makes me feel a bit sick. Tomorrow morning I will call them back, I need to. Or I’ve lost the opportunity and I know I will regret it. Time to repair!

Clouds

It’s one of those hard days, I’ve been waiting for it. I thought writing on one of these days would be easier, that this would help, but actually it’s the opposite.

I think it’s because today I feel nothing. No motivation, no happiness, and above all, no sadness. I forget how painful these days are, how I wish for some emotion to touch me, to make me feel something.

But nothing.

Uni is over for this term and all I’m doing is waiting. Waiting for work today, waiting for it to be over, waiting to go to bed, waiting to go to work and it’s a cycle. Until Saturday, when I go back home.

Sometimes a storm is easier than days of a steady, melancholy wind.

Image

This is my first attempt at any kind of poetry – today was a little roller coaster in terms of my image. I have run and been to the gym for 5 days in a row now, so I thought I would have a rest day. I also have a fitbit, which is amazing, until my calorie counting goes wrong. I have a tendency to overthink about it, and as soon as I go over my calorie target I feel I have failed and get all kinds of negative.

So a day off exercise and counting was needed – but everyone suffering from this type of thing will understand it isn’t that straight forward. I am not diagnosed with any kind of eating disorder, I have never sought help for it. What I do know is that my eating is disordered to an extent, sometimes it stays in the background, but mostly not. It’s always a thought, a fear of gaining weight and not being in proportion, not eating too much, if I do I need to exercise. I must earn it. I need to have control or I can almost see myself gain weight infront of my eyes. 

Unfortunately, today ended in a little binge. I didn’t count calories today so it didn’t count right? I count and I get obsessed, I don’t count and I relax too much. I don’t know how to win this fight, so my aim nowadays is to balance the days until I work it out.

I am of average weight – but carry my weight more on my thighs and I have a big butt (I actually know this for sure, my thighs however are dependent on how I feel that day). I gym a lot most of the time and have recently got into running. But I have been told I don’t see my body for what is it. I do know, that when I look in the mirror, my eyes go straight to my thighs, almost growing bigger the more I look. I don’t know what’s real.

 

Anyway, here goes, my first attempt at getting out a little of my feelings into poetry:

 

 

When did my flaws become all I can see,

this body of mine, my carrier of life,

capable of doing so many things,

being punished for the things it can’t do, or the things it will never be.

 

When, in the heat of August, through water fights,

and beach visits did I decide I was not worthy of shorts or tops with no sleeves,

that my legs were somehow grotesque,

and I had to hide myself away in fear of sight and mocking of family and friends.

 

Why does no one mention my abnormal thighs,

or wide arms,

or belly rolls,

or do I just not hear them, or see them stare.

 

Why can I see everyone else’s faults so beautifully and unique,

telling them that they’re perfect and they wear them so well,

You don’t need to change, it makes you who you are!

when really I’m the biggest hypocrite of all, crying after pulling at folds of skin, wishing I was anyone but me.

 

There are days, weeks when it is easier, when I count calories and run and I catch my reflection,

and I feel my success, my collarbones and hips protruding proudly,

I feel healthy, normal, balanced, content,

Content with who I am, able to see myself without the gleam of hatred in my eye.

 

Why does my body look different one day to the next,

It’s in your head my dear, you need to remember, on dark days,

your legs, arms, stomach,

they are normal, healthy, in proportion.

 

But the following day, a slip,

I slip,

and I slip into the darkness,

You’re not worth anything,

You can’t even stop yourself,

You’ll always be the same,

You’ll never be happy,

Why did you eat that,

Why didn’t you run today.

 

When will it click,

this problem,

this battle,

is not with my body.

Where I am now 

Apologies for the first ones being so long, I kind of needed to start somewhere and already I feel a little weight has come off! It’s a nice feeling to know that what you have been carrying is out there rather than sitting inside me or those I love.

Don’t get me wrong — I know they always encourage me to talk to them, but I hate that feeling off constantly talking at them and feeling selfish. I would hate to be that person, so this is how I’m helping myself.
I think this will be a mixture of little story tellings (not like the mammoth ones already!!) and reflections, and a lot of the time self help. If I can find comfort in something, I’ll write it on here in hopes that someone else can find it too.
At the moment my anxiety and depression are at a good level, low, but I know I need to think about what I’m doing. This morning I slept in, and on a normal day I would be a little annoyed at myself for this. Cursing myself that I’m lazy and I should have got more done. But today, I can feel it in me that I needed that sleep, that it has helped me and mended me. What helps is last night I didn’t have the fear that I would wake up bad, it hasn’t happened in a few weeks now.
So today I’m looking at positives – my housemate offered me a bacon sandwich, I have a few hours before work I can use to relax and sort myself out, even at work I know I will have a nice time, and this evening I will chill out and might even have a bath.
It’s a good day.

The Spiral

Moving on, I got a full time job and I found a friend in jagerbombs and night clubs, and competing with my club buddy to see how many guys we could kiss on a night out… classy. This stopped when a guy took an interest in me and we got together. I was never too sure how I felt about him (sounds awful I know), but I think I hit my blank stage around here. We were together for 8 long months, which included many arguments about me not enjoying the things he did, and me not wanting to do a whole load. I wasn’t happy, he wasn’t the kind of person I wanted to be with – mega show off, loud, obnoxious, but I was too weak to say bye. Eventually I did, ended up veeery messy with about 8 months worth lot of tears and threats of suicide and self-harm on his part, and all leading up to the lovely confession of him having cheated on me.

 

I spiralled. The guilt from breaking up, the thoughts of being told I was boring and never wanted to do anything, and the constant words behind my back.

 

I applied to go back to college in hopes of coming to uni, so for a year I was working full time and doing evening courses. I was knackered, stressed, exhausted from constant harassing from the ex. Cue someone else walking in and making it worse. Clubbing buddy’s family friend – also very up himself but very confident and was able to take my mind off things, of course in a bad way. It got messy. Being a psychologist I can safely label him as a sociopath – lied to me about everything, sectioned me off from family and friends and bloody loved himself. I spent a lot of time with him which destroyed many of my other friendships.

 

When I realised what was happening I got out of there, but not before things reached a low point. I began making myself sick (my body is a huge issue – another time) and woke up every morning wanting the day to be over. I can remember that feeling of hopelessness well, I just wanted to escape and breathe. I felt suffocated and I had got myself into such a rut I couldn’t get myself out. My parents are functioning alcoholics (again – another time) and I was trying my hardest to help them, before everything accumulating in my first big ol’ anxiety attack in my car outside of college.

 

I got help. It took me maybe a year before I realised that living in darkness wasn’t normal. That dreading every single thing that may happen that day wasn’t okay. I was prescribed antidepressants and sent on my way. These helped, but not as much as the next thing that walked into my life.

 

Me and my current boyfriend have been together for 2 years now, and its been two years since I started taking meds. In this time, I moved away to uni, met so many more people, got my dose upped, freaked out, and then just came off of them (bad move – I can do a post about it if wanted because I really don’t advice just coming off them!!).

 

Last summer was a hard one — my siblings have a different dad to me and he passed away. I can’t go into too much detail but he was always a big figure in my life, he was another family member and I know this sounds weird to a lot of people but it was a massive massive hit. Putting loss into words isn’t easy I have realised – I’m not very good at it. Looking back at what I have written doesn’t touch on the way I feel, but going into too much detail makes me sad and I can’t deal right now.

 

Anyway, shit summer. Back on tablets after breaking down to my mum about everything being shit, and since then everything has been more stable. My depression is back to a little shadow, but my anxiety creeps up more regularly. I got counselling from my uni recently, but realised that as much as I’m supposed to encourage it, just talking about your problems doesn’t really solve them. I’m applying for CBT so we will see how that goes. I started self harming, not in the ‘serious way’ (doctors words) using a knife or anything sharp, just with my nails. It started with smaller scratches on my hands and arms and stomach, and then more recently during a big meltdown I did it badly on my leg.

 

I can’t pinpoint when this happens, I don’t think there’s a specific point. I feel that it may be on the crossover between anxiety and depression, when they’re both at equal levels and causing the awful oxymoron they do and I don’t know how to deal with it so I take it out on my body. My fear is my nails not being enough. My medication got upped as a result and now I’m on a very high dose. BUT I feel better. Better than I have in a long while anyway.

 

So that brings us up to today. I’m tired of keeping what is in my head a secret, and I know I am not alone. I feel like if I can talk freely about it on here, it can finally get out and not swirl around and make me feel sick. So expect a lot of posts about feelings and shit, and if there is anything that anyone wants me to talk about more, drop me a comment or an email. For now I am actually going to go to bed, that’s probably a good thing to do.

The Past: School and College.

I’m Gingerbythesea. I live in England by the sea. I suffer from anxiety and, most of the time on a smaller scale, depression. Both of these things I suppose affect me everyday, but someones I notice a lot less, and sometimes I can’t help but see it in everything I do. I go to university and I study Psychology, so I’m kind of a walking hypocrite. It also means I have this awful affliction to look into every reason as to why I feel a certain way, but I am also very aware these things can hit us without any reason. I think I must have had a mixture of both of those.

It may seem like I am picking out weird things to justify the way I feel – but I do not mean to sound like a victim. I know most things in my life I could have changed or altered in some way. But I didn’t, and because of that I have experienced what I’ve experienced, and I have become the person I am.
I suppose I have always been a worrier. In primary and secondary school, I had a weird relationship with friends at school because I’ve always been quieter and a people pleaser (aka. doormat). This isn’t always a bad thing, it’s who I am and I like being the person people turn to. However, in school this is just an invitation and I got walked over a lot. I am also ginger (obviousl) and was slightly on the chubby side… you can imagine how well that went for me. I fell out a lot with friends and got paranoid of being replaced. Towards the end of secondary school, this turned to my best friend (still my best friend now — we got over all this) randomly texting me saying I had done something wrong and result in me begging for an apology unsure of what I’d done. Looking back obviously I should have just told her to fuck off and grow up. But in secondary school and that’s all you know that’s naaat going to happen. This happened frequently, and I got paranoid about my phone going off in case I was in troubs.

Roll on some time and I got my first boyfriend at 16. I was happy for a while, and I was too inexperienced with this whole relationship thing to know when things start to go wrong. I’ll repeat again – that through all this I could have got out, but I didn’t. He was controlling in the teen kind of way – couldn’t see friends all the time, spent all my time at his house or he would cry at me, and ultimately; force me to have sex with him daily or he wouldn’t let me sleep. It was a nightly thing, he would tell me he would get ‘blue balls’ and they hurt, annoyed at me and said I was weird for not wanting to have daily sex, and nudge and hit me until I gave in. Not overally violently – more slyly in bed so he could pretend it was him shuffling around when actually it was to ‘wake me up’ (I pretend slept). It took me a while after we broke up to realise that this was all wrong, and it has taken me even longer to not blank out during sex. If wanted I can go more into detail with this another time, but for now I’ll leave it at that. We were together for 3 years, a long time for our age, and after so many times ‘trying’ to break up with him (dammit girl just do it), he broke up with me. Go figure. Pfft, after the initial shock I was glad for the way out.

Anyway through this I was at college, but failed because I could not be arsed and was not that fussed on going to uni at the time. Said ex boyfriend laughed at me failing. He dropped out of college. 7 years later he still doesn’t have a job. Ha.

At least I’m not just talking to myself anymore

This is the first time I have done anything like this before. I’ve done journals and written things on my phone, but never where anyone could see it. Too scary. I have always been better with written words than speech because this way I can change it until it’s right. Otherwise, it is just a case of speaking and it all coming out wrong, word vomit (cue mean girls).

My plan for this evening was to make an instagram post – not like my usual happy-go-lucky-my-life-is-fine-lets-pretend-I-didn’t-have-three-meltdowns kind of post, but a raw and real post where everything comes out and I don’t have to hide. Obviously, that didn’t work out because that is too real and people would see it and blah blah blah.

I decided this was a better idea. I can’t promise it will always be the most eloquent, or make the most sense, or even relatable. But I need somewhere to get things out, and to read other people’s experiences.

So, here goes. The next post will be a loooong one, imma give you some background!