I’ve always said I find it easier to write when things aren’t good. Which I know isn’t a true representation of mental health because it’s not actually all bad. Despite what we’re led to believe. But maybe when I’m good, I don’t feel the need to use this blog as an outlet; I don’t need a release or escape from my day.
These last few days have been tough, and worse than I actually expected them to be. Medication wise I’ve only had to have one tablet – London tubes really panic me – so in that respect things could have been worse. But inside my head it’s been a great big fuzz of worry and fear. And real sadness towards the end of the weekend.
Don’t get me wrong, I had a lovely time with my mum, sister in law and her family – we visited a baby show in preparation for my baby nephew. And despite feeling anxious whilst navigating the tube, I feel that with help from my tablets I coped well and this prevented any panic attacks.
But coming home to a situation that has always caused me immense worry and fear since a teen, has just amplified my original feelings of panic and lack of control.
I don’t feel comfortable sharing this situation in full yet. It is not something I have ever written about in my blog, only something I share with people I trust. Maybe one day I will feel able to open that side of my life up on here, but for now, I’m just not able to. In the vaguest way possible, I would describe the situation as one that is totally out of my control and hurts me deeply due to it involving and directly affecting those I love the most.
The experiences relating to this situation that I’ve had since around seventeen seem to have a greater affect on me now. Maybe that’s because years ago Ben wasn’t a major part of my life. He was very much in the shadows; barely ever, if at all, making an appearance. Maybe it’s because I spend so much of my time and energy into keeping myself settled and on track, that when things like this happen beyond my control, I just don’t handle it well. It drags me into a totally negative outlook on the future and feels like a cloak of dread is constantly over me.
This time last week I was feeling good; I’d had a great weekend with some hilarious friends and enjoyed a bittersweet leaving lunch for my wonderful cousin Lyndsey. Fast forward seven days and I feel awful. And I know this is what happens when you suffer from fluctuating mental health but it doesn’t mean it’s something I deal with well. I wish so badly I was one of those people who always looked on the bright side and always saw the positive in any given situation. I’ve tried numerous times to be this person, sometimes I’ve succeeded, especially when feeling well. But more often than not, it takes me a few days to get my head back in a place where I actually remember the future isn’t bleak and things will get sorted.
Right now I feel angry about the last 24 hours, and it makes me react to things in a different way to normal. Sometimes I want to shut everyone out and bury my head in the sand. But I know that’s not what’s right in the long scheme of things. So for those I hold close, please be patient with me.
I’m just trying to remember that things will be okay.