Tag: functioning

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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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Rollercoaster of life

To be seen and not heard

That’s exactly how I feel I could summarise the last few months. I’m here but I’m not really sure I have anything to say. Which is obviously a lie, I always have something to say. But recently it just feels like the only consistent thing I’m saying is mere commentary on the current “situation” if you will. I’ve lost my voice in this pandemic stricken ocean.

I’m not wallowing in self pity or thinking I’m unique – I know I’m not the only one. Most people I speak to are fed up. Fed up of feeling stifled and caged in by ever changing restrictions, missing what feels like their freedom, and yearning for the old life they had.

So what else could anyone do really except emphasise the repercussions of life as we now know it. There doesn’t feel anything else to do.

And that’s where my voice has gone really – I feel exhausted and depleted from commenting on current life. It’s the same comments I’m churning out over and over again, like some sort of broken record.

At some point I decided I wanted to stop the repetition and turn inwardly. Which is a slippery slope, because the more time spent focussing inward the harder it becomes to tease yourself back out.

All I can do at the moment is hope for better days to come – then maybe I’ll have something different and maybe even enriching to say.

I live to fight another day ….

Categories
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.

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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.

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Life lessons Mental Health Motivation

Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies

“You seem to have more good days than bad”. A sentence uttered to me this week by someone who has known me precisely five minutes.  Okay, an exaggeration – more like eight weeks but still, hardly a long period of time. And although you don’t have to know someone for a long length of time to really know them, in this situation I was really taken aback because this person has never met me in the flesh so to speak, only by virtual means. 

It’s the age old response of “I’m okay”. Some people take that at face value – they said they are okay, they must be okay, end of. Others see behind the words and delve deeper – no, how are you really?! 

In this particular instance, I think what has bothered me the most is the underlying and unspoken meaning behind the comment – that because you appear happy and functional, you cannot possibly suffer from depression or any other ailment (whether it be mental, physical or otherwise). Depressed people don’t laugh. Depressed people don’t work. Depressed people just stay in bed crying all day. Depressed people don’t have anything to live for. And whilst that is sadly true for some sufferers, that is not the case for all. One size most certainly does not fit all. It is possible to suffer with depression and live (or try to live) a functioning life. There’s also waves and bouts – sometimes there’s sunshine, sometimes there’s rain. 

Ultimately, people will only hear and see what they want to. Moral of the story: focus your energies on your own well-being and let other people worry about theirs.