Party Pooper

When I'm taking a tumble over the bell curve of my depression progress it can be hard to distinguish the progress I've made. If I'm asked about the things I've accomplished recently I'll shake my head because I can't think of anything besides forcing myself to breathe through my loud sobs. The higher you climb, the harder the fall feels. Give me a few moments to recover and I might be able to tell you about that wedding I went to as a plus one, I might say that I'm feeling fairly good about decorating my office on my own- but of course I'm not quite satisfied with it yet- or I might talk about that HUGE party I attended the other week.

The party was something that I hadn't given a second thought about ever since we received the invitation. It seemed like an impossible task, so why would I allow myself to stress over it for a month or so? It was going to be full of people that I had never met, scary. There would be some people that knew far too much about me despite having never met me. Also scary. And yet I found myself turning my ear towards the talk of how amazing it would be because they throw 'legendary parties', and to be honest if a photo booth is involved it's likely that I'll be won over. A week before the big event I'd agreed to go. Of course I went back and forth in my mind about actually going. There was a certain dress code implied so I went shopping with the 'future mother-in-law' (Callie). Unfortunately as we wandered around the shops I found myself slipping into an old routine. My mum can probably remember some unbearable shopping trips with me. I just didn't want to be there, the bright lights and loud music were getting to me and in my mind I was convinced that anything I tried on would look horrendous. So why would I even bother taking something into the changing room when a public meltdown was likely. Unfortunately at the time mum was unaware of what was going on with me, I'd hidden it like a pro. I wasn't 'in a mood' and I certainly wasn't hating spending time with her. I was just incredibly uncomfortable, I was paranoid that everyone was looking at me, I was anxious and had NO self confidence. That little scenario came into play once again last week. I'd reach out and touch a dress or a top here and there, Callie would look hopeful as I had shown some interest, only for me to brush it off and say "let's just look for something for you". Once again I was having a crisis of confidence, hating the way I looked and felt in clothes. I'd decided to send a message to Robbie to say that he should just go without me and enjoy himself with our friend that was staying with us.

Typically I ended up face down in bed until an hour before everyone was leaving for the party. I had been crying most of the day, sleeping for the rest and in my waking moments kicking myself for what I was about to miss out on. Apparently I just love forcing myself into these situations where I have to shovel some food down my throat whilst finding something to wear and slapping on some make-up to hide the dark circles, all in a flash of the time I'd usually take to prepare myself for just going outside! Fortunately I had talked myself into the mindset of "it's a celebration of three people's birthdays. The attention is on them, and everyone else is just looking to have a good time". Yes, I had to meet a lot of people. Yes, it was uncomfortable at times. My clumsy self came out to play as I missed my mouth and poured half a cocktail over my lap. But oh well! I was wearing all black, we were outside in near-darkness and most people were so drunk or pre-occupied that they wouldn't have noticed. I really wish that I didn't have to depend upon having a drink or two to make myself comfortable in those situations. It definitely isn't something that should become a habit of anyone who struggles in social situations. It shouldn't be used as an alternative to getting proper help for these kinds of issues. I don't tend to drink an excessive amount as it's not fun for anyone involved, but on the rare occasions when I'm surrounded by people and feeling quite nervous, a drink can help calm my jitters and allows my shoulders to sink back down to where they are supposed to be.

Surprisingly I actually enjoyed myself, the night went by fairly quickly. The worst part of it was a conversation I had with two girls that are family friends of my fiance. I was waiting with someone at the bar and they were introduced to me. They knew that Robbie and I met at university, they knew we went to Durham. Obviously, as it turned out, they didn't know about me dropping out. I was asked how my final year went and whether I'd received my final mark before or after graduating. A party didn't seem like an appropriate place to say "I didn't finish uni, I fell into a deep depression and almost had myself committed", instead I replied with a cleverly phrased, yet honest answer which was that I left university with a 2:1. I left my second year having achieved that grade from the work I did on my own, the work that I had to attend meetings about to ensure that I could produce some work in an alternative way to everyone else on the course. I taught myself, albeit poorly, to produce social statistics and use some software which I would happily never look at or utter the name of ever again. I didn't graduate with a 2:1, I didn't receive a diploma. However, Durham awarded me with a certificate for the everything I did manage to achieve, something which will eventually take pride of place in my office to remind me of how much I gained whilst I was there and how much it almost cost me. It very nearly cost me my own life, it took away some of my sanity and it took a substantial amount of money. Despite all of that I gained a best friend who will remain my partner in crime even if we don't get to see each other much. I gained some incredible memories, some lovely and loyal friends and of course best of all, I found the person I'm going to spend the rest of my life with.

When I Grow Up

There's a funny smell and a constant tickling sensation in my nose...

I've broken free of the template, I'm no longer ticking my way through life's objectives of passing through various levels of education, seeking an internship, graduating and getting a 'proper grown up job'. I've found myself singing to my own tune, driving along my racing line and cooking without a recipe. I don't have any secure plans for my future, I'm engaged but that doesn't mean I'm going to be a wife any time soon. We're creating a life along our own time-line, making decisions when problems or opportunities arise. I seem to have a discussion with various individuals every couple of months or so, it sounds something like this: I grew up a certain way, I lived with two supportive and extremely hard working parents who wanted the best for my brother and I. I'd say that I come from a working class background, I know how to 'muck in' and I know what hard work looks and feels like. I've always seen myself having an alternative type of career, I'm not seeking the mega money pay cheques and I don't want to live to work. I choose to work to live my life. Or at least that's the idea. I used to see myself working in a creative role. From a young age I wanted to be an artist, I'd draw until my pencils were teeny stubs and until my felt tips were exhausted and could only wheeze out ghostly bits of ink onto a page. However, as I grew up I realised how hard it would be to live in that way, it would be hard to carry out an independent life if I couldn't sell artwork to pay the bills. I've always said that the Foundation Art and Design course felt alien to me, spending hours cutting up bits for a random collage and using up an entire biro for a doodle didn't feel like art to me- the teachers loved it! When I looked around at the other students there, they seemed so enthusiastic, they looked the part and seemed to live and breathe art. I didn't feel like I wanted it enough, so how could I be an artist? I can remember being quite smug when I sat in the library revising for A levels, I only had to worry about getting fairly decent grades for the Foundation course whereas my friends were fretting about UCAS points and conditional university offers. I never foresaw ending up at university. I'm glad I did, I don't regret any decision I've made so far as its got me to this point in my life. I may be weighed down by depression and anxiety sometimes but it isn't constant, I do have a very good life. I'm incredibly fortunate for what I have and that I'm in the position where I can take the time to heal myself after a lot of years of (self) neglect.

Its got to the time of year where I'm becoming surrounded by people that are heading off to 'grown up jobs', they're graduating as undergraduates or finishing PHDs, heading off on summer internships or starting their year in the workplace. Of course its an exciting time for them and I'm happy for their successes. However, its quite unsettling for me. Once again I will have the conversation about where I am in life. I'm hanging out in 'gap year' limbo, I'm focusing on my health, fitness and happiness. I'm making rugs, writing, rearing a puppy, growing sunflowers and entertaining a hamster. I belittle those things, when I compare my position to others. Ask me any other day and I'll be proud of those achievements, seriously check out my sunflower plants, look at the stem on that beasty! But the doubts do creep in and I do find myself asking whether its OK if I end up being a housewife or if I never have a stable career. The answer is always 'yes' and that the support will be there. I've started to realise that perhaps I'm the one that has a problem with it. Why should I be able to have a cushy life? But the sociologist, and feminist in me says that it will still be hard, staying at home isn't easy and there has to be someone to fill the creative roles in the world. I'm struggling to make the transition in my mind, I've gone from living with two hard working role models and believing that I'd live the same way, to considering a very different lifestyle. Neither choice is bad, some of us need more structure in our lives whilst others prefer to be able to drift towards a more unstable but free lifestyle, go where the mood takes them and accept any exciting and interesting opportunity that comes their way. Whichever way I end up living, I'll never see money as a measure of success, happiness on the other hand...

A Difficult Journey

Sensory overload with the photos?! It was a glorious day up North, days which are few and far between so I took full advantage of having my camera out in the sun.

This is the post that I had intended to write for last week, but alas the sinusitis struck me down! I'm still battling with it but I've manage to compose a 'proper post' for this week. The photos above were all taken whilst on a visit to the Botanical Gardens in Durham. Yes, Durham! I finally made it back up there after a year of being away from university. I'd manged to place all of my bad feelings onto the physical location of Durham as a whole, so for a long time it seemed like an impossible task to visit my friends up there. The reality is that there are a few physical locations in Durham that I'll probably never return to. There are panic attack hot spots for me, places where I repeatedly had panic attacks no matter how well prepared I was for the circumstances. I had been saying that I would try to go back for the college ball at the end of May/beginning of June as I remember it being a really great event despite the headspace I was in at the time of our first ball. Unfortunately we couldn't make it for various reasons, and I was quite relieved. I was aiming far too high for my first visit there. I must remind myself that baby steps are essential during my recovery! Getting up to Durham would be, and was, a massive achievement in itself. The trouble with me is that I'll think that they are achievements and feel pretty chuffed, but as soon as anyone else acknowledges them I'll be quite bashful and downplay those achievements. We eventually decided to head up by train for a long weekend with a stay in a hotel in central Durham so I didn't have to worry about long treks back to our safe place! We could have saved money by staying with friends in our former college, but I have a lot of bad memories of locking myself in my college room for weeks at the end of the first year, so we thought it would be a safer and more positive option to treat ourselves to a big comfy bed! 

I wasn't certain that I would even make the trip up to Durham. And hour prior to us leaving I was still in bed crying because I already felt like a failure, I was scared that people wouldn't want to see me and I was more terrified that I wouldn't be able to see them and end up letting people down. I'd been in that state for a few hours before Robbie came home from work before we were supposed to get our train. He's a very chilled, comforting being. Without him saying much at all to me, I realised that I could either spend a weekend without him sobbing in a bed in Epsom, or I could take a risk head up to Durham and potentially just spend a weekend crying up there with him popping in to check on me. Fortunately my reasoning won over the dark monster in my head, and despite a nerve-wracking journey through London,  I made it onto the Durham train unscathed. Arriving at a very late hour made it hard to distinguish the surroundings, I hardly knew I was in Durham (!), except for the obvious signs of an illuminated cathedral and castle. We took control of the weekend and all plans. I'd decided that I would do better without having firm plans in place as I could easily fail to attend things if I had too much time to think about them. Instead we opted for a spur of the moment mentality, doing what we felt like. Surprisingly I came up with the idea to head up to the Botanical Gardens which is very close to our former college. It was a trip that we hadn't managed to do as a couple whilst we were at university, despite it being all of a 5 minute walk from our college accommodation. I got trigger happy with my camera. Robbie had to prop me up a bit as there was a fair amount of walking to do, and it was an uncharacteristically hot day in Durham! That combination together with my anxiety left me reaching for my inhaler for relief a few times. I soon got over it as I was super excited to show Robbie the giant greenhouses full of cactus plants and GIANT lily pads, in my eyes the best aspect of the Botanical Gardens which he'd managed to miss out on previous visits with others. 

The remainder of the weekend consisted of spontaneous dinners with some uni friends as well as some time spent together as a couple. It seems ridiculous that I can be terrified of seeing friends, but I genuinely was. We managed to keep some anxiety at bay by arriving to the restaurant early and having a few cheeky cocktails to perk me up a bit! Ultimately I had to keep in mind that these people could easily make excuses if they didn't want to see me. I even managed to have some fun with Robbie's former housemates, we were all friends from the same college corridor from our first year, but I always found them a bit intimidating. Deep down I know they're all teddy bears really, and I've managed to comfortablyy have one-to-one time with most of them. I was really happy to spend time with them casually playing the Xbox and surprising them with my skills on a certain game called "hidden in plain sight". I managed to have a really great time with all of them, catching up with some close friends from uni and being really excited for their future plans after graduating. It can be really difficult for any student to meet up with uni friends after graduating, so I'm even more concerned that I won't see some of them again. Hopefully we'll be able to meet up in a convenient location for everyone at some point.  I know this seems like a 'me, me, me' post but I hope you can identify where I've attempted to reason with my inner demons to control a potentially stressful trip and end up having an enjoyable time by doing things the way I needed to. It also really helps knowing that everyone up there knows about my situation now, whereas whilst I was at university they didn't have a clue and either thought I was quite shy or may well have never given any thought to it at all! Its never easy admitting to something like that, and you might lose the support of some friends but the ones that matter most will stick by you and hopefully those friendships will last for a lifetime.

Cutting Loose

Yes, I'm completely crackers. Disclosure: no hairs were harmed in the production of these photos.

When I was younger I never imagined life without my closest friends by my sides. I barely remember how those friendships began, they simply just always existed. We don't tend to foresee the breakdown of friendships, sometimes people simply drift apart and move towards other groups. These transitions often feel quite natural, but at times they can be devastating and have a long lasting affect upon our lives. Over the years I've had to intentionally break off friendships. In my teenage years I drifted through various friendship groups, this was fairly pain free as I wasn't alone in those transitions. There were times when I had to break away from people as I realised some 'friends' no longer shared the same values as me. At one point someone attempted to bully me into remaining loyal to them despite them behaving in ways I didn't agree with. Those actions were the reasons I was distancing myself from them in the first place.

Sometimes bullies can be halfhearted, they strike out, the result of their own insecurities. Fortunately I was able to brush them off when I first encountered bullying. My second encounter with a bully was very different. They were manipulative, strategic and vicious. I'm often told that I ought to pity bullies, supposedly they must have some deep issues or problems at home, they seek control through bullying in their domain. At the time I didn't realise it was a form of bullying. Yes, it was verbal abuse which I associated with bullying. However, I'd never experienced or heard of psychological bullying, something which would affect me for the entirety of my young adult life. I don't hold onto any angry feelings towards those involved. Mostly I just want to know why it happened, how they could do such a thing and whether there really was something going on with them to cause the attack on me. It was a hard time for me, I isolated myself and walked away from long-standing friendships to avoid causing a 'choosing of sides'. Reflecting back upon that time, I realised that sides wouldn't have been chosen. They were all under the thumb and believed the rumours spread about me. These 'friends' ought to have known those rumours were completely out of character and could never be true. I'm not one to give myself compliments or to 'talk myself up', but I will say that I'm loyal and I care for those I know and love. We don't always anticipate change, we don't expect having to walk away from friendships.

In a way, this post is a letter to my 16 year old self, and advice to anyone experiencing similar problems currently or still allowing problems in the past to weigh upon them today. There isn't much about my 'depression story' that I'd change. However, I would have walked away sooner. You never need to change yourself for anyone. I attempted to change and adapt to please others. I used to stay out longer than I ought to at the weekend to avoid 'missing out' on the laughs, the stories and inside jokes that would be re-iterated for the next week at school. None of it made me happy. True friends don't seek to make you feel uncomfortable, they don't intentionally exclude you and if they love you for who you really are they won't try to change you. The genuine friends will stick with you throughout good and bad times. Long distances and lengthy periods spent apart won't break the bond. My true friends have emerged since I started being honest about my life, the struggles and the conditions I live with.

This post came to mind in anticipation of an upcoming trip to Durham (where I attended university). I'm aware that my friends from uni read my blog and that they're supportive of it. I'm glad that they now know how hard it was for me whilst I was there, and why I wasn't around as much in the second year when I was really struggling. I have reached out to a few of them, but its difficult to maintain contact when we have little to talk about, reaching out sometimes feels artificial. I've missed them more that they know, I cherish memories of my better days with them and value their friendships. I haven't seem most of them for well over a year, a fair amount of fear comes with that amount of time apart. Despite that, I know that the true friends will be there to catch me if I start to wobble.

The Lonely Beast

 A new, updated, fresher layout for the blog and a few bits that have cheered me up this week.

Depression is a lonely beast. It's not as if I have a few fellow depressed housemates and we've synced up like it's our time of the month, so we sit around in our pyjamas having a cupcake party. If only. It's very much a personal thing, I try my best to let others know what's going on, they can usually tell when my mind is cluttered and bothering me. However, I can't always tell them the specifics at the time it's occurring, this may be due to being afraid of certain thoughts and how others may react if I voiced them out loud. I'm frequently clouded with thoughts but I can't pinpoint what's really bothering me, why I've suddenly slumped and can't even build a nest for myself on the sofa in front of some familiar TV programme for comfort. On days like those nothing can break the flow of those thoughts, I cannot concentrate and yet I can't relax either, I'm restless but I just want to lay down in the foetal position for hours and watch the sky go from dusk to dawn, black to blacker. As I said, it's a lonely beast, especially when you can't figure out what the problem is so you can share it with others. Depression is the world's greatest incognito figure, a master of disguise and a shape shifter.

The worst part of leaving university and living away from my hometown is not knowing many people here, I can go for months with only seeing the same three people. As lovely as they are I miss other human contact, I seem to be afraid that I'll lose the connections formed at uni, the people that were unknowingly such a huge support when I needed it most. I'm also scared that those friendships may not have been as strong as I recall, most memories I have were formed in my first year there back in 2012-2013. My second year of uni consisted of me fading away into my lockable room, barely seeing anyone from February onwards. I was frequently left agonising over conversations I felt had gone badly, I sweated over the details such as how I fidgeted nervously the entire time or how I knew I ought to have walked away sooner but I was too anxious and awkward to excuse myself and leave.

Most people attempt to convince me that others don't notice the things I sweat over, but what if they did notice? What if the image I left them with is one they don't want to remain in contact with or even be reunited with? I'm trying my hardest to reach out and keep the connections flowing, but how long will the links remain in tact if I can't face returning to the place where everything crumbled?

Dream A Little Dream Of Me

I've been thinking a lot about where my life is going recently. This isn't simply a new year, new me type of concern, its something I consider on a daily basis. A major part of my illness is feeling as if the world and life is passing me by, I can see it happening and yet I feel unable to intervene. I also hold a lot of guilt as I see everyone else in the house getting on with their lives, be that studying, heading off to work or helping out in the community. They all experience stress too, its a normal factor of life. However when you live feeling stressed everyday the body is put under an enormous amount of strain, and it can become impossible to carry out even the most basic of tasks.