Voice

All I want is to talk. About you, about me, about us, about the future.

I’m not perfect. I’m probably one of the least perfect people in the world. I’m chaotic, I’m loud and I’m basically just a version of being dumped in the middle of nowhere without a map to guide you towards anything that makes sense.

My past relationships aren’t perfect either. But I did have them and I did learn lessons. I learned the kind of things I love in life, the things I learned to love but also hate about myself. I learned what I crave from others, what I don’t like in them and I learned to understand the kind of relationship I want to have. The kind where conversation is never still, where words are not weapons but a guide. I learned to understand how I did not want to feel about myself and others. And, whether right or wrong, it made me see the kind of things I feel I want in life and in my future.

All I wanted - no matter when- was to be heard. I don’t speak to criticise, I speak because I want to say what’s in my head and in my heart. What I crave in life is not perfection; it is simply and only a place where my voice isn’t smothered but where my words are heard. It isn’t about wrong or right - it is simply about wanting a choice and a chance

Letter to my son

I carry the marks on my body where my skin stretched to let you grow

But you’re not here

My arms are empty and a part of my heart is too

(5/12/18)

Hurt

How can anyone, when they already know how much hurt and heartache they have caused, still even want to consider going ahead with the thing that’s caused that incredible pain? How can anyone be so selfish and so blind? Why would you even want to? How does someone not see and realise “I have caused pain by this so therefore I will not do it.” How does that somehow become a thought of “I have caused so much pain but I am so incredibly selfish, I am going to do it anyway?”

My mind and my heart do not understand. They don’t understand how... or even why. They don’t. Never in my life have I felt so incredibly stunned by how someone can be so inconsiderate. I just don’t get it.

Hurt is a terrible thing. It destroys you. It makes you second guess your own self worth at every single turn. It makes you question the worthiness of the image reflected in the mirror. It makes you loathe parts of yourself. It makes you angry and bitter and it makes you scared. It makes you spiteful. It leaves scars only time can heal but it’s as if the wound never quite closes. Somehow it always bleeds. Hurts makes you cry. It makes you feel so sick, like the knot in your stomach is twisting itself so tightly that you can do nothing but literally throw up the hurt. Hurt makes you insecure. It breaks you. And even if you fit the pieces back together, you’ll always be able to see the cracks. And every once in a while, when you run your finger over those cracks, a little sharp bit will cut you and you will bleed and you will hurt again.

Hurt makes you feel alone. It makes you feel abandoned and it makes you think about finding ways to make the hurt stop. Dark things. Bad things. And the more hurt there is, the darker the thoughts become.

I don’t understand how someone can willingly make someone else go through that again and again. If you know you’ve caused pain already, shouldn’t you want to do everything you can to make the hurt go away?

Letter to my son

You were sick today. And tonight, as I got you ready for bed, you fell asleep with your head on my chest. You haven’t done that in a long time. A very long time. I rocked you gently and wishpered that I love you.

You’re a big boy now. A fierce, bouncy, curious and lively boy, a force of nature to be reckoned with. Gentle and kind with a will of your own. But tonight, just for those precious moments, you were that tiny baby again. And in that moment I was as alone with you as the first night in hospital after you were born. Late at night, with your tiny head on my chest, my heartbeat soothing you to sleep. Tonight I was back in that moment; the moment I realised I would have you for the rest of my life after keeping you safe inside me for 9 long months.

There are days where you don’t need me as much. Because you can take off your own shoes and want to cut up your own food. But tonight you wanted me. You wanted to be close and you wanted me for comfort. The same things you wanted from me when you were so much smaller. And I promised you that night I would always be there for you. That I would always love you.

And now, as the inevitable part of leaving you is coming closer, I sometimes reflect on that promise because in a way it feels like a lie but I don’t want you to see it as such. I want you to remember how much I love you, no matter what happens. I hope that you’ll be able to remember sleeping with me like you did tonight. That you remember what it sounds like to hear my heartbeat....

(03/02/2018)

I’m not sure what scares me more

The past, the present or the future.

Right now I’m mostly just scared I’ll never be able to actually get my thoughts and feelings across in a way that’ll let someone else understand

There is so much I can’t say out loud because I know it doesn’t make sense to anyone else and frankly, it’s not worth the endless battle of trying to be understood. There are so many days I wish it wasn’t like this.

That *I* wasn’t like this

Me and my shadow

Living with anxiety is like living with this dark shadow that follows you around all day every day, no matter where you are or what you do. You kind of get used to it’s presence and you learn to live with it but there are moments when that shadowy figure rears up and takes the shape of a monster that consumes you, smothering you in every way possible. You can’t breathe as your heart races insanely in your chest. You sweat and hyperventilate, fighting against the tears and the ten thousand thoughts running through your head.

Right now the monster is big. And it crushes me. It crushes my heart, my spirit and my ability to think clearly. It makes me feel fragile and insecure and makes me act out in ways I know are unreaonsable. But in those moments more than ever do I crave safety and shelter, reassurance and security. In those moments I need it more than ever. It makes me feel like someone has thrown me into the deepest, darkest ocean in the middle of the night and I have no idea of where to go.

I’m scared. Of myself. Of the world. Of people. Of everything and everyone. I know I’m not normal but still I need you to hold my hand, to promise me and tell me it’s ok. To be the constant and the security that my own brain can’t offer me. I’m feeling so incredibly lost and frightened right now and I just need something to hold on to because I can’t seem to hold onto myself.

I’m so scared. So so scared.

Things My Anxiety Makes Me Do (part 2)

Once I have a bad experience somewhere, like a store or someone’s home or another situation like a party, it becomes almost impossible to go back or do the same or similar thing again. These situations will become a massive trigger and I will do anything I can to avoid them.

I don’t do unexpected social interaction. I don’t cope with people turning up unannounced. Make an appointment. Preferably days in ahead so I have the option to back out if I need to. Don’t just arrange something on the day (unless it’s a good day with plenty of warning or I know the person very well). Don’t invite people over without warning. Social situations need to be structured and organised. Last minute changes or unexpected situations are a nightmare.

I need space. If I’m triggered or overwhelmed or too anxious to cope, I need to be able to get up and leave. This needs to not be a problem. If anything, if the safety net can be created in the situation, it’s more likely that I’ll cope better as long as I know I can leave if need to. Not knowing where a safe space to retreat to is (or fearing I’ll face judgment and anger when I use it) makes it worse.

Lesson to those not suffering from anxiety: the world seems normal to you. Imagine a world where everything feels uncertain and you are permanently in fight or flight mode because it’s full of triggers that you’re trying desperately to control but everyone around you is trying to railroad you and is undermining how you feel.

Things My Anxiety Makes Me Do (part 1)

Struggle to eat in front of people. I can force myself in situations that are small but in larger situations it becomes more problematic. I don’t want people seeing me eat in case they think I shouldn’t be eating particular foods because I’m not exactly skinny. I worry about the amount (too much/not enough), worry I’ll spill food and look like an idiot and stain my clothes, worry I can’t make a choice on a menu, worry I don’t have enough money (even when I know I do). I’ve been known to order food I don’t want just so it’s sort of the same as the other person(s) with me. Often wait till others have ordered so I can match. I’ve been known to say that I’m not hungry when people ask if I want something to eat because I can’t bear them seeing me or I can’t bring myself to go to the counter and order.

I can barely use a toilet in someone else’s house and will wait until I’m home or at least more comfortable (can take hours or days) even if it physically hurts. I have made myself physically ill because of this. Upside to this is that I have some serious control over my lower body. Downside, anxiety usually means I have to pee every thirty minutes. Try combining the urge with the fear of using a toilet... hellooooo vicious circle.

I sometimes struggle to walk when other people are around (especially if I don’t know them) because I feel so self conscious and can feel almost paralysed. The bigger the space, the worse the feeling becomes. I fear they’re judging me for how I move or walk so I either stay still and don’t get up or just walk out of the room altogether and don’t come back.

The fear of sweating and being selfconcious when it happens. Considering anxiety makes me sweat... you can see the problem. I won’t wear certain types of clothes for this reason and am obsessed with deodorant.

Other problems in social situations:

I worry about my accent. Will people pick on me for not being able to say some words properly? What if they don’t understand me? What if I pick the wrong word? Or say something stupid or get something wrong? What if I’m overdressed or under dressed. What if I can’t join in with a conversation because I know nothing about the subject? What if I’m not able to leave. Where are the doors? How many people will see me if I try and leave? What excuse do I have ready? What if I have to ask where the toilets are because I don’t know. What if it’s too noisy or crowded. I don’t know anyone and I can’t talk to strangers. I don’t like small talk and forced interaction. I don’t like physical interaction; what if people bump into me? What if someone touches me?

I ignore calls and texts for days. I screen all my calls and don’t answer texts. I avoid talking to certain people, don’t reply to texts.

Listening to music helps but ONLY if I can find the right song that in that moment reduces my anxiety. A song that works on Monday may not work on Wednesday. I usually know what to look for and what I need but at the same time this means that just putting on the radio doesn’t help which means someone else can’t help me unless I tell them what song in that moment reduces anxiety. I’ll probably play the song on repeat for up to an hour once I’ve found it

I’ve noticed I like pressure once I’m coming down from a high. Arms wrapped around me, a blanket wrapped tightly around me. Something that’s weighs sort of heavy on me/ applies pressure.

.

I haven’t felt this much anxiety in a long time. It’s been months since it was this bad and this much of a constant. I have spent more time in my bed in the last week then I have in the last month. I’m permanently exhausted and every little thing is an effort. Trying to find the headspace to relax is almost impossible and usually just ends with me falling asleep. I suppose that works too.

It is so hard feeling like I have no control over anything. I feel so lost in an ocean of things but none of it I can do anything about. I’m just sitting around waiting for things to happen and the waiting is horrible. I keep trying to find things I can control which usually seems to result in fighting or not eating. Because nothing else is predictable. No routine, no familiarity. I keep preparing for things but I don’t even know what I’m preparing for, what these things are. I can’t figure out what’s going on around me and it’s incredibly frustrating. My anxiety is peaking in so many ways right now and frankly I’d give a fair bit just to fast forward a couple of weeks so I know a little more of what’s happening. But my mind feels like an ocean that is so deep and so full of stuff... there is literally no switching it off. There is also no stopping the shaking, the scratching, the tics or the crying. And because I feel so fragile, the world seems even more full of triggers than normal. Loud noises, unexpected things popping up on social media, random memories, flashbacks.... I can’t seem to let anything go and it’s so tiring.

I’m so tired. I can sleep two hours and be tired or I can sleep 8 and still feel exhausted. It never goes away.

One way ticket to hell

You know, one of the cruellest things about anxiety is that nothing is ever finished or gone. Nothing. Whether it was yesterday or last week or months ago, somehow my brain always brings it back to me, basically forcing me to relive every shitty experience again and again and again. And most of the time, it just happens. Without warning. I’m watching something, reading something, playing a game.... and there it is. A single image or thought and the whole lot comes back like a goddamn avalanche.

It’s a silent version of hell, lying there not being able to make it stop. It’s cruel because it’s like your brain has decided you haven’t suffered enough yet so it brings it all back. It’s ridiculous that even when I try to avoid triggers, my brain is a goddamn trigger. As if it isn’t bad enough yet I can’t scroll through a photo album completely without having to fast forward or that I have already written down every possible thought in my head at 3am in the morning... nah, my brain decides that I have to relive all of it again, ask myself different questions, replay the same scenes over and over, basically only increasing the anxiety and making me want to engage with it even less.

Today was so bad, I couldn’t even walk down the street without crying. I know it’s because I’ve been holding on for days. I know it’s because I’m tired. I know it’s because I’m stressed and worried. But then it makes nights like tonight even more harsh. And it happens again and again and again. And it makes me cling on tighter, making me even more desperate to try and avoid... it’s a horrible circle and some days I honestly don’t even know how to make it stop, let alone how to explain it in a way that makes sense to someone else.

Because the anxiety itself may be irrational but it is also real. And so is the fear and the panic, the tears and the racing heart and cold sweats and the endless trail of thoughts. It is real and on days and nights like tonight, it truly is my own personal version of hell

Letter to my ex

You’re a shit parent. You don’t deserve him.

Fragile

I’m angry at myself.

Angry for having anxiety. Angry for not being able to do the things everyone else seems to just be able to do. Angry because it always causes problems. If I say no to something, people are disappointed in me and I feel guilty instead of accepting that I’ve protected my own boundaries. If I say yes to something, I resent myself for not having guarded myself enough and spend the rest of the time in a state of panic because of it and because I know I have to live up to the expectation that I can cope. Even when history already tells me I probably won’t. And I feel like I have to constantly explain myself; either because someone doesn’t understands or because I have to find a way to cope with my own guilt. It is never easy to say no and I don’t actually find any satisfaction in it. Just guilt and incredible sadness. It makes me really not like myself but the alternate option isn’t much fun either.

It is so incredibly hard to not feel pressured to say yes to something when asked, even if something is asked in relative innocence. My initial reaction mostly is no anyway but I often ignore it and try and be like everyone else, whatever the cost. But it seems that the more I do that and the more I see and feel the consequences, the less I’m prepared to put myself and other through it. Because it’s not just for me. It’s for others as well. Perhaps even more so.

I don’t even know how to guard my own boundaries without getting in the way of others or without feeling guilty. I never feel a sense of pride or satisfaction about saying no. Instead I just feel like a failure because it’s something I couldn’t do. I don’t always see that by saying no I most likely prevented far worse and that that is also a good thing. At the same time I am acutely award of what can happen when put in a situation I’m uncomfortable in, especially more than once, and it all just feels like too much. And yet, I still only focus on the guilt and the problems it causes for others. It’s my anxiety but I only see the problems it creates for those around me.

I’m tired. I’m so tired. And I’m scared. Scared of my own anxiety, scared of the triggers that keep popping up without warning, old triggers that keep replaying on me at the most unfortunate moments (like 2 in the morning). In so many ways I feel stronger than ever before but at the same time, my anxiety seems more fragile than ever

It’s reached another peak. As I’m lying here, I can feel the pounding of my heart, can hear the ringing in my ears. The tears are right there but I don’t know whether to cry again or not. It makes me angry when I do. It makes me feel weak. The thoughts and feelings just will not stop. Everything is too much and I can’t seem to bring order into the chaos. I so desperately want to feel like I have some kind of control but at the same time I’m so aware it’s only going to lead to arguments as no one understands how it feels, how it makes me feel, what it is I need. I keep asking myself why I feel like this. At times I feel neglected and I get frustrated when other people forget small things that I wouldn’t. In my head you don’t make decisions or plans involving a person with anxiety without giving them all the information first but I know the world around me doesn’t think like that and it’s hard to find a sense of security when you don’t know what the hell is going on. I just want it to stop

.

I went outside today. In the grand scheme of things it doesn't sound like much but considering I've been functioning in an almost permanent state of anxiety since the start of the week and have done everything I could to still function, it may as well have been like climbing Mount fucking Everest. A walk down to the store took me twenty minutes each way and every car that drove past made me jump and the voice of the lady behind the till sounded like nails on a school board. But being outside in that moment beat being inside, where there is nothing to do to occupy my mind. So then I have to choose; go outside and get stimulated more and know it gets to me or stay inside, in the quiet, and have my mind run even wilder than it already has been since Monday. And suddenly going outside feels a little less terrifying. Until I'm actually hearing my footsteps on the pavement that is but by then I'm already halfway there so might as well keep going. My head is full. It has been so incredibly hard this week to let go of even the smallest things. Every little thing, every little word, every thought, every feeling, everything.... it has somehow clung to me this week. And "it's ok" has become my go to answer because there isn't much else to say. The world doesn't need to see or hear that it's hard. And I'm trying to keep my control, trying to be stronger and not let go so much. Trying to keep the anxiety in check this week has been an immense task. I don't think I realised how much all these social commitments would do to me and today I could barely function. It's going to take a week for the marks on my arm to fade because the itching got so bad again... the fact nightmares I can actually remember the next morning are creeping into my sleep is a new thing for me. Waking up in the middle night being able to so vividly feel and remember what I saw... no one likes 3am much. I think by now I positively hate it.

11/9

Tomorrow is a day that is leaving me with so many strange emotions and feelings. I have a horrible taste in my mouth I just can't seem to get rid off. It's been brewing for a few days and now that the date is almost here I just feel.... weird. I saw some pictures of myself today, pictures from this time last year, and it honestly feels like a whole other life. A whole different me. It's like the person I am now and the person I was a year ago are not the same person. I am yet I am not. I feel very little connection to those old pictures; almost like a part of me has died or something but at the same time I don't know what it is I'm grieving for. Because it feels like grief in a way but I don't know how or why or even what for. I just feel like something's lost. Tomorrow is my seventh wedding anniversary. Only.... it's not. Because I left my soon to be ex wife almost a year ago. But I'm still legally married so technically it's still an anniversary but not one that I reflect upon fondly. Last year's one was an anniversary filled with lies, with pretending, with desperately trying to make someone else happy whilst ignoring how much I was hurting myself. I was so scared and confused and I felt so incredibly trapped. And now, a year later, that day is here again only this time I'm not lying to anyone, least of all myself. But the rush of emotions I'm feeling right in this moment... it's so hard to look back on something so significant and know that for so long, I lived a life I wasn't happy with. And I'm still trapped, just in a different way this time. It's like I'm partially telling myself none of it ever happened. But it did. It did happen. I got married and I wanted to be happy. But I wasn't. Some days I'm honestly not sure I ever was. I think I wanted to believe I was. And tomorrow I will no doubt be flooded by memories from that day seven years ago and I'll be reminded of the consequences of my choices more so than any other day. Consequences that I have to live with, that weigh down on me heavily. I look back and what I see just... in trying to see it as my first anniversary of freedom but with my name not signed on divorce papers, it doesn't really feel like it. September 11th, you suck and I can't wait for you to go away. For good.

I woke up hoping it wasn't real.

Turns out it is.