I've been having a tough couple of days recently. I have an interview for a college course I applied for a few months back, tomorrow. I initially applied because I was feeling directionless and without any kind of structure in my life that I vitally needed for my sanity, so I'd have some kind of purpose and something to aim for. So I felt part of life. I felt so much better after I'd made that first step. I knew I'd made the right decision in terms of my depression, the dead weight on my shoulders lightened and I felt so much relief after I'd done it. Finally! I was making progress! I'd made a decision! Then came the doubts and the second guessing...
Is this the right career for me? Would I be happy being a hairdresser? Would I be any good at it? Could I do it? Would I be better doing that part-time visual merchandising diploma as it's only 3 weeks as opposed to possibly 3 years of my life?
The only thing I've ever known about myself since I was a kid is that I can draw. It's just part of who I am, like the fact that I have two arms and ten fingers, they just seem to be able to translate what I can see on to paper. I take no credit for it :P. It was always a given that I would do Art in some way as a career. It was just the way it was. You know when you're a kid and you think of the future with rose tinted glasses and say "I wanna be a rock star" ..or an astronaut or Indiana Jones? Well I looked into the future and thought; I wanna paint. I wanna be a fashion designer. I did go through that "I wanna be a singer in a band" phase, but singing really isn't something anyone should be paying me to do. Trust me.
I haven't painted in 7 years. I'm not entirely sure if there's one particular reason why or many. I haven't painted since I left college where I was doing a BTEC ND in fine art where, due to my anxieties and insecurities getting the better of me, I left with a few weeks to go of my final year. It all got on top of me and I couldn't seem to cope with the work load I'd put off and put off through-out the year. It just seemed like too steep a climb although I did pull about a week load of sick days trying to solidly work through it all. I worked as soon as I got up in the morning until I passed out in bed that night. I hardly ate. I just wanted this bloody monkey off my back. I was determined to beat it. I did make a massive dent in it and finished my final project, but I had too many unfinished modules to pass the entire diploma. I felt like I failed.
I was offered the chance to finish off any unfinished projects at my own pace along side the first years (who were now second years), which I jumped at! Turned out that when Maggie (my nemesis and lecturer (literally)) said that I would be finishing my work off there, which would take a few months max, she failed to mention that what she really wanted me to do was the whole year again. I couldn't face it. I stuck with it for two months, hating and dreading every day there. I resented it, her and everyone else. I left.
..but with ever good intention of having a few months off to re-assess my life and figure things out. It didn't really happen that way. Gradually, so gradually I didn't notice it, I became severely agoraphoblc. I cut off contact with everyone I knew. I convinced myself I was happy. I kept myself busy buying things online I NEEDED, but never wore or used. I read A LOT. That was my life.
It all came crashing down when my anchor in all this, Charlie, my springer spaniel who I'd had since I was 14 developed inoperable cancerous tumours all over his side that was causing him so much pain. I knew I had to make the decision to stop the pain the only way I could, I couldn't handle seeing him in that way. I couldn't do it to him. It was killing me. He had become everything to me, he was my best and only friend, he was everything that made me happy in life. We had him put down at 8am on the 12th of December 2009 after I spent all night with him feeding him bits of toast with morphine on it when wasn't unconscious. He couldn't live like this. This wasn't life. I was numb for so long after that day. I hate Christmas. My anxieties and my depression is always worse then. For a few years I was getting by, not going out, preoccupying myself with meaningless things that became vital parts of my life, only living life online. 2010 passed by uneventfully. I started getting panic attacks. I looked into herbal therapies and meditation to try and relieve some of the pressure. 2011 was worse. It seemed unending. 2012 began and I wasn't really there. I didn't want to live anymore, I'd all but given up. The place I was in terrified me, but I didn't care anymore. I'd switched off. I knew that if I didn't get medical help soon I would end it. I couldn't do that to my family. I couldn't let them find me one day like that. My Mum has since told me that every morning she woke up she thought she'd find me dead. I put myself and my family through hell and back that January.
Here I am over a year after I first started taking anti-depressants. Still figuring things out slowly. Oh so slowly. Initially I gave myself a year to get my life sorted out, I was in so much of a rush for everything to be "normal", for me to be happy and coping with life like a pro. Unrealistic yes, but I know why I felt like that; I just wanted those feelings gone. I wanted that magic pill to make me better. I am getting there. I'm just impatient to be there already. I do push myself, but I know that if I didn't keep pushing myself to make these decisions I'd backslide or stagnate and I don't EVER want to be in that place again. The idea of it terrifies me into keeping going forward hoping I'm making the right decisions, but doubting myself every time I make one.
I go out for a short walk at least every other day, I Zumba 6 days a week (this has been amazing for burning off adrenalin. I can't recommend it enough; I'm 3 dress sizes smaller I can fit my butt in Topshop jeans again. Woo!). I go to the doctors/ hairdressers/ shopping (~sometimes. Shopping stresses me out) on my own. I've started stripping the wallpaper in the living room (that was there for nearly 15 years, don't ask 
) and making plans for decorating... everywhere. I've sent off my therapy referral form (I want to beat this agoraphobia). I'm looking into adult education courses to get me out and around other people. But I still doubt myself. Can I really do this? I've been really anxious for the last few days, sort of on the point of not being able to steady myself like I have been able to recently.
I just need to keep telling myself; just breathe...
x
Having a really rubbish day
Agoraphobia, anxiety, fatigue......
understanding it all
Anxiety, Foggy Brain, feeling out of it. Does it ever stop?
