6 months into my “anxiety-curing” dream

When I was 16 and figured out I wasn’t handling life the way I ought to, I started to blame it on myself… not that most people don’t. Most successful people I know have a natural habit of constructive self-criticism which they utilise to their own betterment. That’s awesome. I really like the idea of doing that – but the problem is, I still don’t really know how. I don’t think my mind quite grasps that fine line where self-criticism switches nastily into sad, unhelpful self-loathing. And that’s where the cycle begins. 1. You loathe yourself for wasting time harbouring useless and tragic self-pity 2. You spend lots of time thinking about loathing your own actions – then, 3. Due to this rotation of unending pondering, you end up stagnant and not doing anything to better yourself.

Then, wait for it, the cycle repeats.

That is my kind of anxiety, and it has been for roughly five years. When I first started talking to people about it, I remember always offhandedly explaining my anxiety like this – “I’m just so stressed because I want to be a doctor and it seems like such an impossible dream – I just can’t help but feel like I’m not good enough. (I’m not good enough; I’m not good enough; wash, rinse, repeat).  Then, the unthinkable happened – I got the official acceptance I always wanted… what I thought would be the certified valuation of my capacity as a human. Everything would be better from this point. I always believed my anxiety would leave me seamlessly; like med school acceptance would be the breaking of the cocoon.

It wasn’t. I’m not magically a worry-free butterfly and the cycle did not effortlessly cease. Actually, I’m putting this down in writing right now because I’m having this great moment of acceptance where I have realised I’m actually experiencing more anxiety than ever before, but I’m putting my pen to paper to motivate myself to fight it.  

The hardest part about it recently hasn’t been the academics, because, well frankly – a lot of the people I surround myself with are struggling too. What I’m most frustrated with right now is how my thoughts and actions affect other people. I’ve distanced myself on and off from many people without warning, and worst of all, I frantically air out my self-esteem issues by consistently emotionally testing people I love.  

A number of thoughtcatalog blogs and mental-health discussion pieces circulating the net which highlight the adversity of being in a relationship with someone who has depression/anxiety have really hit the nail on the head:

In my lows I cannot believe a person will stay because I don’t see why on earth they would.

Self-pity, yep. There it is again.

Right now in this moment of reprieve I can see the faults in my actions. I am clear-headed enough to apologise for being detached from my friends or harsh and ungrateful to those I care for the most. I can see the self-obsession and the cycle of dependence I’m creating.

Yet, with the undeserved help of the people I am wronging, I wake up most days and get (some) things done. I’m actually so grateful to my acquaintances, too. Thank you, one thousand times thank you. Thank you for the hugs and the smiles and the “how have you been?”s. Thank you for not letting me slip through the cracks. I am often okay because many of you help me be okay and that’s pretty cool. You’re pretty cool.

So there it is. I am not always fine – and it’s likely that you’re not always fine too. But that’s not too bad because shit things happen and are always going to happen. Just keep swimmin’ and realise that the bad thoughts you carry around might never leave you, but be proud of yourself for sometimes having the strength to push them away.

I’m always around for a chat and a big ‘ol hug if you feel these things too. Let me know, and maybe together we can make a current so the swim’s just that little bit easier.

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.

I'm not great at following through

Okay, I really should be studying right now. I SHOULD be doing a lot of things. I should be thinking positive thoughts. I should be buddha breathing. I should be chanting self-love mantras. I should be eating chocolate. I should be giving my dog a hug. I should be calling a friend. But right now, all of those options sound futile. All I want to do is cry. Yes, as dramatic as it sounds, I am mid-panic attack typing this out because it's the only thing I can think of at this very moment in the library to do. 
I wish this wasn't the only subject matter I wrote about on here. I wish I didn't feel like it defined me - and on good days, I know it doesn't. I often resent it because I feel like I let it become an "excuse" for my general ineptitudes and weaknesses... and right now that's how it feels (hence the need to cry). I'm actually not sure whether I am actually experiencing a problem, or whether I am the problem - and that's not a fun thing to contemplate at all.
I'm trying to channel my thoughts toward productivity; toward this goal I'm so grateful to be on the path toward. I want to say "you go girl, you can do it", but all I can muster is "you keep on going girl, because if you don't you will be a failure". Not as uplifting, really.
I hide behind externalised strength a lot. I hide behind holistic well-roundedness, sociability and kindness. I like to think my attempts at kindness aren't just to run away from crippling self-doubt, but who knows? Who knows what I'd do if I weren't so scared?

2 Xans down, I thought I was tougher - and I know that tomorrow I might wake up and feel that resilience. But right now it's out of my reach and it's hurting me to try.

I just want to not worry. 
I want to just take a little break from my own mind, just now - right now. 
Is that too much to ask?

NT posts 1, 2 & 3

05/01/16

Day 2 of being in the outback and I'm already typing on my phone, due to lack of battery on my laptop since I stupidly brought a charger that DOESN'T WORK. Agh, anyway - I really wanted to write blogs about this journey, predominantly because once I got here I realised how important this experience would be for me. I am a naive as fuck future medical student (always have been lelll), and this hyperidealistic view I have of non-Indigenous and Indigenous relationships and their inevitable co-operation has already begun to dramatically transform. But, before I go into the nitty gritty of things and start sounding like I'm writing a socialwork paper - I need to mention the ABSOLUTE FUCKING AMAZINGNESS OF THE STARS in NT. It's bloody incredible, really. I looked up into the night sky tonight and caught my breath in wonder. It's beautiful out here - it really is. Y'all should try checking it out one day (but bring a cork hat and lots of water, it's fucking hot and there are a lot of flies lmao).

Furthermore on the positive train, there are adorable dogs here too! and they are so energetic, yet so fierce and intelligent. Yet, aside from the dogs, the important thing I wanted to discuss was the people. Ah, so - you might ask - what kind of humans decide to set up shop 3.5hrs away from the nearest supermarket & hospital in a place with ~ 250 people? All sorts of humans, that's who. I thought everyone (non-Indigenous) who came out here would be equally as idealistic, "nurturing" (please excuse my self-inflation) and curious as myself - but in actuality, there are incomprehensible amounts of reasons why people come out bush aside from those. Admittedly - and here's a big topic I want to bring forward - there is a severely PROMINENT lack of male presence in the government here, especially in regards to youth work/night patrolling. What 12-20yo Aboriginal male is going to take a girl, especially a /white/ girl, seriously when they've been raised in a remote community their whole life??? Okay, maybe a few, that was a harsh generalisation - but definitely not all.

Yes, of course I'm not suggesting white MEN should be RUNNING communities (what a laugh #missions), but more of the compassionate ones out there getting on board would definitely enhance the situation. The necessity of non-Indigenous presence in communities in any capacity is contentious (and I by no means wish to adequately discuss that here), but if we are going to have a team of white people infiltrate someone's homelands, at least make it an effective team. On top of the lack of male support, I've quickly learnt that being in community as a young female - predominantly working solo - is mothaducking lonely. I am a social being, and although I'm loving the stars, the dogs, and the local banter - I can see this becoming quite scarily lonesome. Thank God I'm only a volunteer. I'd need to get used to this.

Although I've said that, I can still imagine a thriving life working somewhere centrally remote - like Alice Springs, or Dubbo - and doing week-trips to community, rather than living here myself. Whether this will change once I've gotten to know the locals is unknown. I just know now that the stars do not replace creature comforts like phone reception - and fresh cheese.

I'll write more on the heavy stuff in communities later (drugs, grog, suicide etc.) But tonight I want to end with what I'm thinking about rn: how am I going to help Indigenous peoples the best I can without disrupting their culture/lives? CAN I even possibly do that?

nts: later I'll write about the character/personalities of the diff govt. workers I've met so far. It's been really interesting to suss how people work and what their motivations for being here are.

07/01/16

Alrighty, so my laptop charger started working (yay) and I’ve somehow managed to get more accessible wifi (double yay), so I’m going to start sharing with the world about living in Mount Allan/Yuelamu and what it all means to me. Ok, so when they tell you living out bush isn’t voluntourism, it’s not a joke – you get thrown in to a bureaucratic nightmare that is (and I quote) government “support” and witness first-hand the difficult ironies of community life. Just for those who aren’t well versed in Indigenous-issues terminology, community refers to the secluded-from-society groups of families to choose to live more ‘traditional’ lives (i.e. they still maintain various protocols in reference to puberty, mating, death rituals, hunting/gathering/preparation practices and power). I clarified what I meant by traditional because life in communities is by no means that.

Obviously, I came out here with fairly naïve ideals, and I apologise. I thought that this would be like peoples’ trips to 3^rd world countries where children laugh at my silly “whitefella” (used coloquially here as meaning non-Indigenous) jokes, always want to play the various games & activities I had planned, listen dotingly to me reading stories and climb all over me to play with my iPhone. No. Sure, the kids climb on me and think I’m funny. They stroke my hair because they’ve never seen the greasy smoothness that is the Asian mop before. They do like my phone, but most kids do. What I forgot was how their experiences of neglect would affect me.

What I didn’t realise I would be faced with was the palpable stagnation; the communal acceptance that things aren’t great; family life isn’t good, but there’s nothing anyone can do about it. The community workers feel that way, too. I guess I’m definitely not alone in having this epiphany – thousands upon thousands of others have confronted head-on the focal issue they were passionate about and realised they were out of their depth, but seeing it first hand is slowly breaking my heart.

This is no declaration of defeat. It’s just a documentation of one hump – the first of many – I am facing on my journey into learning more about Indigenous medicine. I can’t glorify this way of living. I can’t say it’s “better” than living in a commission house in suburban Sydney, but I can’t say it’s worse. It sucks to know how much horrific history has played a part in creating this purgatory (I feel I have the creative license to call it that, please feel free to take offence – come out here though, and tell me you don’t get what I mean). To me, it’s kinda like one of those really poorly thought out fusion menu items thought up by desperate café owners trying to save their business. Some new, some old… some modernity, some convention.

I lived amongst barefoot kids speaking native tongue (major plus). But also lived amongst adults addicted to alcohol (pretty solid detraction). Kids here have all kinds of health issues – I’m in fear of having caught their head lice this very second –that are more than easily treatable (yes, I know I’ve read about it in Indigenous health studies, but it really pains you that much more when you see it in person).

Okay, how about another ironically paired pro and con: community provides seclusion from societal demands for assimilation (great), people still choose to spend a LOT of their time (tbh sometimes time they should be looking after their children) watching tv/playing with phones/on the rec hall computer getting stimuli from the outside world (doesn’t that defeat the purpose?). This is why I have been avoiding being my usual self and posting everything online. I don’t want to look after these kids and have them look at me glued to my phone like their caregivers. Of course, however, I’m gonna dump this all on you guys now that I’m back.

I just want to end this 1^st entry by saying I am still passionate. Many Aboriginal people are wonderful, vibrant, complex and inspiring people (as is a portion of every group). I’m just a little lost (taken aback?). And I’m a little bit scared – and honestly, a little lonely. I have a team here but they’re not exactly making me feel extra homely. I dunno – the two of my companions are more than lovely! And intelligent, compassionate, outspoken and hardworking people, but I feel as though they’re not my people. Is that weird to say? Anywho I’m going to bed. Gotta sleep, it’s gonna be a long day tomorrow.

Wait, no, let’s just go and say it: it’s gonna be a long 3 weeks.

 09/01/16

Hold on, I'm kinda starting to get used to this. The wifi accessibility truly does help (I backposted/edited the last two posts, I really only got wifi + computer access today. Hard to admit that wifi has helped me feel that much less lonely. I really am a child of the modern world.

Administration

I posted an Instagram a couple of days ago with the theme 'people are not their pictures; love yourself' - yet I can't still seem to take that advice myself. I can see how this appears like I'm casting my net out into the ocean for compliments, and tbh, a couple of your kind words in response to that photo have really boosted my superficially-driven spirits that tiny bit... but I of all people know they aren't fix-it's for the problem at large. I've got to figure that little conundrum out myself, and despite being logical enough to see where my issue originates, I by no means have the willpower to overcome it.
I oftentimes get called out for preaching "happiness" - for example - calling out people who criticise others by arguing: "what if it makes her happy? let her eat the fucking donut!" But do I take my own advice? Hardly. I wouldn't say being a bigger size than typically aesthetic girls makes me feel lesser than anyone 80% of the time, but there still is that 20% that feels awful. I wouldn't say I'm a hyper-jealous, or paranoid person, either. Yet then, there's moments like right now where I feel like someone out there could probably just do... things...everything... better than me. 
Of course there are 100% people out there that can do things better than me. I'm not deluded, I am happy to subscribe to my fairly median place in the world. But it's that below-median feeling I can't shake. That feeling of inadequacy that relentlessly courses through an anxious mind; the persistent desire to shed your own skin gets tiring.

Self-love chants are being mentally written as I type.

Just had to get this out there. I'm a hypocrite, but I'm working on it.


xxxx

M.

Acquaintances

I have close to 1.8k friends on Facebook - yet, I don't know half of them anymore. In all honesty, I was going to post a status saying "If you don't care about this status/me, please unfriend me for both our sakes" - then realised that would look sickeningly attention-whorey and just plain, well... weird. Seriously though, I'm not sure what to do with that platform anymore (although that's besides the point of this post). I actually came on here tonight to write about change, and I guess I brought up my friends just then because my 'timeline' and 'friends list' on Facebook have recently had a lot to do with my reflections upon it. 

I was reading this article yesterday on anxiety disorders and the diminished capacity for sufferers of anxiety to react positively to change. Immediately at first, I was like: 'bullshit, I have always been okay at dealing with with change'... yet then it all suddenly fit together. I got little flashes of this blog, and an actual - almost embarrassing - admittance to myself that in the depths of my downs I am hopeless at coping with change. In fact, I avoided it at all costs at one point in my life. I let my fear of change override my basic preservation of my own dignity. On more than a handful of occasions, I let my fear of change make me succumb into a smaller, less courageous version of myself. 

I am never going to be that person who wishes to go back in time and somehow make every bad situation okay. That's not what I want at all - but it is definitely interesting to have a retrospective view of the 'mistakes' you think you made. It's insane to think that i can actually 100% appreciate feeling like an absolute piece of crap 5 years ago if it means that I can feel the way I feel right now. Some days I wake up and I legitimately convince myself that somewhere down the line I woke up a different person, because the way I look at the world feels totally different different. Yet, I know that's not the case. Change doesn't truly cast its impact in revolutions and bounds - it mines away at your life in little increments within every single moment. In that way, I guess, it's super-duper unavoidable - and although that's scary, it's also kind of liberating in the sense that it allows you to accept this: you cannot run away from change, it's happening constantly, and no matter how hard you try, it's going to affect you eventually.

I've felt the pain of letting change run me down; finding it hard to even barely keep up. I know what it's like to look around and have no fucking clue how things got to be a certain way. I still struggle with this run, but I know it's possible. 

So, here's my "i'm-having-a-good-week piece of advice" for the future-me who's struggling to put change into any kind of positive context  - 
Just run with it. Run ahead of it. Steer its path into a direction that makes you feel an internal drive to keep ahead. 

Don't freak out. 
One day in the future, you'll probably 100% appreciate feeling like an absolute piece of crap right this very moment. Sounds like a silly cliche, but you've experienced it, so you know it's true. 

I think I'll remember this for a really long time

Of course I’m here when it’s 2AM. I’ve come to terms with a few things in the last few hours, and it’s kind of funny how random the timing is for these things to happen. I’ve finally done it. I’ve come to the realisation that I can actually control my thoughts.

I feel like a stupid person writing that down here, and look, it’s pretty fucking sad that it’s taken me 20 years to figure it out – but I’m kinda damn proud I did it at all. I’ve always had some idea of the ability for people to do it… I guess wouldn’t really be a functioning human if I didn’t, haha. I just never believed I had the capacity within me. I wrote on here about 4 month’s ago about searching the world for this magical human who would teach me how to open the door to ‘get out of my brain’, yet what I discounted was the fact that I’ve always had to figure it out on my own. How goddamn cliché is that, I’m in my 20s realising that I can’t rely on others to hold me together.

I can calm myself down.

I can tell my beating heart that everything’s going to be okay.

I can reassure myself of love.

I can.

I really fucking can.

I’m just really happy I know that now.

Tick, tick, tick

Hey, I’m back. I’m back because I’m feeling really contented – and it’s truly dawned on me why. I’ve figured out some teeny part to the algorithm of my own joy, and I want to immortalise the epiphany by describing it here. Right now, I’m lying in my childhood home waiting for my dad to finish whipping up my absolute fav home-cooked meal; procrastinating finishing off my second-last assignment for my first degree. Not a bad situation at all. Dad is cooking up a storm because he’s super proud. Tomorrow I get to go on a hospital tour with my dream University for my dream course in my hometown. In the hospital where I would sometimes visit my grandma, sit and watch doctors, whispering, “I want to be them one day, Lola”.

WHOA. What the fuck. I’m 20 years old and I can honestly say  (it still baffles me): I am on the brink of living out my childhood dreams. Hell, I could almost say I already have started. Why? I’m about to let you know.

My dreams aren’t world-changing, or anything. They could be bigger, I’m sure of it – but I’ve always been a relatively simple girl. I wanted my adulthood to consist of 3 main things: stability, fulfilment, and passion. I consistently lust after grand adventures and idealistic impossibilities; but I know deep down I’m satisfied with the little things.

It would be absofuckinglutely phenomenal to travel the world. I would work my ass off for the chance to work for MSF. I want all of these things – but I’m at the stage of my life where I don’t need them. I am terribly, sincerely happy. I feel like my brain is finally tired of needing more, more, more. All I want is to work hard and love what I do. And I’m at this gloriously – almost worryingly surreal – stage of believing that little goal is in my grasp. It’s totally within reach. I can feel it.

The main part of my epiphany was this: I realised that time could fix and heal anything. I realised time could make amends; it had the potential to create so many unbelievably great things. It gave me space to re-evaluate my dreams. It gave me space to re-evaluate my heart. And in that space, I have learnt so frieking much.

The last 3 years – my “accidental” swerve off my medical-end-goal path have been indispensable. I’ve learnt more than I could have ever imagined was possible for me (because honestly, I’m pretty one track minded – and I’m not proud of it). I’m not saying I’m some kind of expert; or that I even have any qualified knowledge of life at all – but one thing I’ve become an expert in is myself. I’m so glad I got time to get to know myself.

Time. It’s such an interestingly complicated, talk-yourself-into-philosophical-circles kind of concept. I love it. I love where it’s now taking me. I love time because it’s so malleable; so meaningful – so independent, yet still somehow so conveniently under our control. It’s a paradoxical thing, and I don’t really understand it – but I appreciate it. I appreciate that time is really all we have. Life is time; work is time; love is time.

Time is the most valuable thing I have. It’s time spent with people that make you grin from ear to ear like your heart is on fire with ecstasy. Time feeling loved like no one in the world has ever been loved. Time to rebuild hopeless romanticism, idealism and solidity within a somewhat weakened soul.

Time to feel extremely excited for what’s in store next.

I’m contented because I have had this epiphany – this epiphany of how my life is going to be great. It’s how I’m going to manage my fears and anxieties – and although it won’t ever be a perfect journey, I know that I’ve always got something on my side.

            You and I, we’ve got time.

           

P.S. I can’t wait to spend the rest of mine with you, M.