Tag: life

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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 ….

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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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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.

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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.

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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

Sunshine after the rain

If you speak to anyone who knows me, they might not know about the emotional struggles I have, but they will undoubtedly be able to tell you all about the love I have for my two dear nephews. It’s hard for anyone not to know really – they are my pride and joy. 

As cliché as it sounds, I really did not know the possibility to love unconditionally until these cherubs came into my life. Of course they have their testing moments, but for the most part they bring absolute joy of the purest form into my life. 

The last few weeks, well few months I guess really, have been challenging – like everyone, I’ve had my ups and downs and rode the rollercoaster of pandemic/lockdown emotions. This last week in particular has been full of a lot of tears; some explainable, some not so much. 

But, coming home to visit my munchkins has just been bliss. I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m tired. But their love and pure innocence just reminds me of the good in my life. For all the self doubt and confidence struggles, they show me to just love. No conditions. No fears. No regrets. Just live and love. 

And it’s really that simplicity that seems to elude me, hell all of us a lot of the time. 

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Life lessons Mental Health Motivation

Rest, Reflect and Recuperate

I remember when I first started in the world of work, “live for the weekend” I was told. I didn’t really give a response, I just sort of mm-okay-d. I mean, what can you really say to that or “this is it now, your life for the next forty years”?!

In the first years of ‘The Real World’ I truly believed these people who would give ‘advice’ about living for the weekend were truly soul suckers. Were they telling me I’d had the best time of my life, and it was all down hill from now on (a bit like when you hit thirty and you’re told that exact sentence)? Were they saying it out of spite or some unfounded jealousy?

Now on reflection, I do think they meant well and I can understand where they were coming from – work is consuming. It really does feel like eat, sleep, work repeat sometimes (okay, most of the time..).

But, I can’t stand by or advocate living for the weekend because honestly, what life is that? Living only for two days out of your week is a pure waste.

I think I’m slowly finding a good balance – I am one of those people, old before my time, who likes to go to bed super early. But I still try to make the most out of the mornings and evenings before work, so that my day isn’t all about work (the urge to say “and no play” is strong..”.

Weirdly, I find I’m more active during the working week rather than the weekend. The weekend for me is all about self-care: resting, reflecting and whatever else I do, do it slowly with no pressure.

Ultimately we only have one life; why only enjoy two days a week?

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Friendships

Little Miss Chatterbox and The Never Ending Moan

There’s an unwritten rule that allows you to moan ferociously until you’re blue in the face to your friends, and they’ll simply listen, nod, and give their feedback in the form of sympathy, acknowledgement or advice. It’s endless and enduring really – personally, I don’t know how they continue to put up with me. 

Friendships are special like that though – they are constantly evolving and developing, marked by key events and milestones, highs, lows, petty squabbles and random acts of kindness (sometimes in postal form). 

I’ve always had something to say – I’ve never been a wallflower. But, what I find the hardest is talking about something really personal, or as I like to put it “talking about my girl feelings”. And that is not to undermine femininity, or the art of expressing yourself and your feelings. It’s more personal than that, it’s the vulnerability it exposes me to. 

I’ve always loved a good moan (sounds really dodgy, obviously I mean in the ranting/bitching sense) – but now I’m learning to open up more. I’m learning it’s not only cathartic to speak to my friends about ‘my girl feelings’ (how are you really?), but it’s actually really necessary to release all of these pent up words, emotions and energies inside of me and channel them into something more positive. 

There’s that guilt you feel sometimes when you know you’re on a verbal rampage, but in personally trying to decipher the underlying meaning yourself – here’s my rant and this is what I think it could mean, or this is what I think I should do to resolve it, there’s a much more productive and positive outcome. 

Or maybe that’s what I’m telling myself to justify my moans and rambling – either way, if I feel less negativity residing is it really a bad thing? Sorry friends, your ears and sanity won’t be saved anytime soon.