Category: Mental Health

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Mental Health Rollercoaster of life

I wonder if I’ll ever be enough

A common thought amongst most people – a sweeping statement but nethertheless I’d say true. We spend our lives striving for wealth, for greatness, to have a roaring career, be in the best shape, pushing ourselves to be the epitome of success. But what really does that mean?

I definitely feel I’ve spend my life, all 33 years of it thus far, trying to be better. The best version of myself – be it pushing my body beyonds its limits, micro controlling my diet, burning myself out through overwork to prove I’m worthy and capable, relentlessly cleaning my house like it’s a palatial show room and not a lived in home. But for who? For what purpose? And most importantly why?

Am I doing all of these things for myself? Am I really that satisfied? Will I ever be satisfied? Will I ever truly be happy and content? Am I enough for myself?

Through talking therapy this year we discussed expectations and pressures – mainly put on myself, by myself, from the idea of what I “should” be doing, and what defines being successful. Even though I realised comparison was the thief of joy, here I am 6+ months later still unable to change my habits and thought cycles.

But I know better. I know that if nothing changes then nothing changes. It’s something I hear myself profess to other people, so why is it so hard to practice what I preach?

Perhaps that’s the point though – it’s practice, and without commitment to the cause, I’ll always be in the same vicious, draining cycle.

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Life lessons Mental Health Motivation

A spark, a flame, a fire

I’ve been struggling recently. Mentally and physically. I guess mentally it’s not really a surprise – I’ve been more open than ever with my struggles of depression. But physically it’s been a burden.

There’s an intrinsic link between mental and physical health, especially when depression and/or other struggles are involved. Still, I’ve always been quite ‘functional’. And this is something which I’ve weirdly been proud of myself for – probably pressurised myself unknowingly.

I don’t think I’d describe myself as a ‘get up and go’ kind of person per se, but I’ve always been able to function within the day – whether that be to work, go to the gym, general get shit done.

Within the last, honestly I don’t know how long, I’ve lost my motivation and all energy. In a non life-ending way, but I’ve really lost my lust for life. Which tells me that something needs to change.

We all know that “it’s okay not to be okay”, and I truly stand firm to that notion. But, I know in myself that in order for me to cope and feel myself, something has to give.

I’ve made some really subtle changes recently, as well as really trying to give myself a break (easier said than done). I can feel it already, those little sparks coming to life again.

Sparks eventually lead to flames and fires. And that’s all I can hope for.

Journey.

Categories
Mental Health

Feeling bad and feeling better

When I was younger, and even in “depression denial”, I used to think that if you were feeling low and down it would be an easy fix to be “normal” again. Even now, I sometimes plead with myself to be the person I used to be. To be able to cope. To be able to pick myself up off the ground. To be free.

I’ve fallen back into a depressive state – a relapse if you will. I’ve been managing my mood and triggers for a while successfully now, but somewhere out of the blue with no apparent cause I’m back to the familiar haunts of depression.

I thought it would be different this time and I’d be able to shake it off, but it’s caught me in its grips and I cannot help but feel a failure.

But I know that’s ridiculous, and therapy tells me the same – albeit in a not so judgemental way of “it’s okay”. But still, I’m infuriated that I can’t seem to be in control of my own mind or emotions. And yet if I were listening to someone else berate themselves for sliding back into depression, I would tell them to ride the waves and acknowledge the way that they’re feeling.

As always, your own advice is a bitter pill to swallow.

And so although the irritation over lack of control is there, I’m trying to be a bit kinder to myself. If this is how I’m feeling, what compassion can I give to support myself?

Recovery takes time.

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Life lessons Mental Health Rollercoaster of life

In the cold darkness, all I hear is nothing

Without meaning to be repetitive, this year has been long. A year full of shattered hopes and dreams, a year of yearning for times of old, a year of, well, nothing.

And all that is fine really – of course it is, you can turn it into a positive. It’s been a time for reflection; of realising what and who is important to you in life. Of realising what it is that really makes you happy, of slowing down, of being still, and so on and so on.

But the problem for me has been, and I’d say for many alike too, is that I feel like I’ve lost my head. I don’t know what I think or feel anymore – I’m not numb in the sense that “I feel nothing”. More, I’m not sure where I lie anymore. What I really think. Where I’m going or what I’m doing.

And I’m probably being dramatic in the sense that I have too much time on my hands, and therefore everything is dramatised and elongated. But I truly feel like I’ve become braindead and incapable to think of anything.

The craving for a sense of normality is strong, but then I wonder – what is ‘normal’ anyway? Do I really want to go back to a full week of office life, of commuting, of feeling like I have to utilise every living moment to be ‘productive’?

I’m really just not sure anymore. And I think that’s okay, because in my tendency towards blind faith, I’ll figure it out one day.

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Life lessons Mental Health

The quiet things that only I know

There’s two phrases people often use – “life gets in the way” and “you’ll drive yourself crazy” – both have never felt truer. 

Recently I’ve been feeling myself being pulled further into the darkness, more rain less sunshine. And I think that’s how life can be sometimes. It gets in the way. Of your hopes, your visions, and it can cloud your perspective of the future. And I know people say “ahh but only if you let it consume you”, but I don’t think that’s true. You don’t always have the control. You can’t always be “strong” enough to break free. 

Maybe, though, things happen for a reason. Maybe I’m meant to feel like this now in order to feel whole in the future. I’m only human and that’s okay.

But it’s the rumination and thinking you only ever experience things alone that can be the real killer. It’s hard not to get caught up and think you’re the only one to feel this way. But I like to remind myself that the seasons always change. There is always evolution.

Categories
Mental Health Rollercoaster of life

And one day I’ll be able to see the path I so clearly carved out

I’m lost at the moment. Lost somewhere in between the monotony of daily life (aka the “new normal”), life as I used to know it, and hopes for the future. I feel I’m somewhere along a continuum. There’s hope at one side and despair at the other side.

I try to pep talk myself because I know I don’t have it as bad as some people, but still, it feels enough for me. Unsustainable. Like I might break or shatter at any moment – and often I do, in the form of tears.

And I know it’s okay, because life is a journey – they say you have to take the rough with the smooth, life is full of bumps in the road. But that doesn’t make it any easier to handle.

I’m getting better at talking; about acknowledging how I am feeling and if I don’t think I am coping that well. But then this week I heard the most infuriating thing – to check in with how people are really feeling would be overkill and a box ticking exercise. Oh, and if you ask someone how they really are feeling they will drag you down with them. And there was me thinking “it’s okay not to be okay”.

For me, I will continue to try being more open. I say try because it’s still hard, there’s a certain element of vulnerability that I will never be able to shift. But, I will always be receptive to other people’s openness and honesty.

If there’s one thing I have learnt, it’s that articulating thoughts and feelings – whether written or spoken – always helps you see the light.

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Life lessons Mental Health Motivation Rollercoaster of life

Faith of the Heart

My pseudonym, with very simple origins: a song that really resonates with me.

I started writing under the name because the song struck a chord with me. It talks of long roads (read: life’s ups and downs), but realising your potential and having the strength and courage not to let anything get in the way of becoming who you want to be.

To me, to have faith of the heart means having hope and strength to get through life; whatever challenges and adversity lay in wake. To know you’ll make it, to see through the darkness until you find the light.To know there will be better days.

And that all sounds really lovely doesn’t it? Very perfect and dreamlike, when in reality we all know life doesn’t work like that. It’s tough and far from an easy ride, and it can be so turbulent that your faith/hope/strength/courage/passion/zest, you name it, can disintegrate.

But the thing is, for me at least, it’s never been more pertinent to have faith of the heart. To remember that whatever is thrown at us next, whether it is another lockdown, further restrictions, another version of a “new normal”, there is light. It’s hard to believe it right now, let alone see it, but I’m choosing to have faith of the heart. I know deep down I am stronger than what life throws at me.

We all are. And I’ll repeat it forever.

Categories
Mental Health

Mountains and molehills

This week something so insignificant really sent me spiralling. I say insignificant because although to me it felt enough to throw me into a downward spiral, the reality is that for a bystander it was something or nothing. 

It’s frustrating recognising yourself spiralling and feeling like you can do absolutely nothing about it. I guess in a way it’s a good sign I can recognise it in myself, and I aren’t oblivious to what is happening. But still, I felt out of control. 

No amount of meditation, journaling, yoga-ing, you name it was able to bring me back. 

It’s cyclical and I know these feelings pass and I’ll feel “normal” again – whatever that is. 

But it’s a horrible feeling – emotionally and physically. I felt like I was screaming internally for help, but really what could anyone actually have done?

It took a few days for the calmness to come back to me, and finally I feel back in control again. Like nothing ever happened.

And that’s the thing about mental health, it can be unpredictable.

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Life lessons Mental Health

Emotional remote controls and the pause function

Feelings. I used to think they were my nemesis, and to some extent I would still define them as “the bane of my life”. Which is outrageously dramatic, and only partially true.

Like a lot of people, I struggle to control let alone contain my feelings and emotions. Even with my best effort, you’ll still understand my thoughts on the matter/situation etched visibly across my face – for me, unfortunately, there’s no hiding.

I’ve spent a long time trying to suppress my emotions; to push them further and further down into a box deep inside my brain in the hope they’ll never surface and I’ll never have to deal with them ever again. It’s what I think of as my version of an ‘off’ switch – choosing whether or not to display emotions and process feelings. To feel vulnerable.

Of course in reality there is never any control. The box will always pop open, and all the feelings and emotions I’ve been trying to avoid will overwhelmingly come spilling out. This is the real world after all.

Avoiding the way I feel or situations that trigger an emotional response has always been my default – but I’m slowly trying to learn to acknowledge and embrace what emotion has stirred up and how it is making me feel. It’s just that, as obvious as it sounds, feelings can be overwhelming. They can be raw. They can make you feel unbalanced, throw you off kilter, make you feel out of control and unable to cope.

But I suppose part of growing up is also about growing into yourself too. To learn to manage emotions, or at least let them run their course and don’t try to fight them.

Deep, calming breaths.

Categories
Life lessons Mental Health Motivation Rollercoaster of life

The glory days and yearnings of calm

I always used to mock people who would begin sentences with “back in my day” – and I guess I probably still would have a giggle and/or an eye roll. But, after a week of annual leave and a bank holiday (or 10 blissful days of deliciously sweet freedom) I have the blues. A bad, bad case of craving for those days when I didn’t have a care in the world.

Waaaay before my university days (because I was anxious as hell back then too). I’m talking carefree school goer (not GCSE years as I was a panicker then as well). Those years in your life where you don’t know what a worry is, let alone spend all your time consumed by them. That’s what I crave right now.

There’s something about a night before going back to work – whether it be Sunday night blues (aka weekend come down – in a non narcotic sense, but whatever floats your boat) or post annual leave return. The anxiety is real. And it’s not even as if it’s the fear of the unknown because the reality is you’re 99% sure you know what you’re going back to.

I’ve realised it’s the physical act of going back – it’s strange because I’m a creature of habit, I crave routine. A sense of normality makes me feel, well, normal. And grounded. And me. And in control. But the transition between personal time and work time is something I really struggle with. I know it’s a delicate balancing act – you need enough of one and the other. But there’s something about the night before going back to work that fills me with a kind of dread and uncertainty.

I know that experience counts for a lot and as you get older you learn to ride the waves. I’ve come to recognise when I’m feeling like this and have a routine in place (naturally): yin yoga, bath, meditation, and journaling. But in some ways I wish I could skip back to those calmer days. Or skip forward, but I know that’s wishing my life away.

I know the advice banded around is always to take things one step at a time. And although cliché, it’s pretty solid advice. I do have to laugh and wonder if I’ll look back in a few years’ (or decades’) time and yearn for these days.

We got this.