Solitude

Listening to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lAwYodrBr2Q 

Long term mental illness is a big thing. It's not a particularly pleasant thing, but it's interesting and unavoidable. Just to be clear, I'm coming from a perspective where my mind is NOT always as debilitating as a full blown "episode", as most psychologists would like to call it. Frankly, I hardly am that bad. I'm a lucky person in very many ways. I'm pretty standard most of the time... my brain just teetering bashfully on the edge of sanity (I like to believe moreso sane than not). 

One thing I do know for sure is that I have trouble concentrating on things as they happen. I'm often wondering what will happen next - or after that - or (sadly) what I might have just done wrong. It stops me from actually doing things right. Well, at least I feel like it does. I'm writing this right now as a mechanism of normalcy, since well - tbh I'm having a panic attack at the moment. 

Writing is one of those things I have learnt I might as well do, since it does help... and I'm sure it helps a tonne of other people too. So, if you happen to stumble upon this (how?) and need a handy tip/metaphorical brown-paper-bag to induce those deep breaths in times of need, I'm here endorsing a good ol'writing sesh. Write a love letter, an apology, a declaration of goals, a hate letter, a shopping list... anything. Just remember that this is a passing feeling and you just need to think of other, simpler things.

Okay, so I'm 'calmer' now - physiologically - but my mind is still in a world of distress. It's really breaking my heart realising (again) that being accepted into my dream degree, getting an adorable dog and having a wonderful boyfriend isn't fixing those gaping holes I described all the way back in year 11. It's not making me feel any less lost or any more secure. All these things in my life are great - perfect, even - and I can't just enjoy it for what it is. WHY?

I want to be genuinely grateful. I don't want to spit in the face of my blessings and self-pity until no end. I want to stop worrying that I'm "undeserving" to the point of fulfilling that with self-absorbed criticism. I wish I wasn't so jealous, and so unmotivated. I wish I didn't endlessly crave everyone's approval. I wish I could stop staring at my computer screen listening to instrumentals with no clue why I'm shaking or crying. That last sentence, I know, seems obnoxiously attention-seeking but that's it. Anxiety is a lot of shaking and a lot of crying and a lot of not really knowing why.

And it's not great.

I just needed to let people know that.