Inside Out - Part 1

Well, it's been three months since I started seeing a counsellor (again).  It's been a tough and somewhat confusing few months.  There have been so many ups and downs I'm not entirely sure whether I'm coming or going.  It's pretty stressful.

One of the things we have identified is that I'm not really sure who I am just now.  So much of my identity is tied up in work and Guiding, that I've sort of lost the joy, the spontaneity, the excitement and the confidence to just be me, whoever that may be.

The past month has been really overwhelming.  This week's counselling session was the first where I really felt that there wasn't an obvious solution, and it was hard.  I spent a lot of time repeating 'I just don't know.  I just. Don't. Know.'  I wish I knew what it was that I didn't know.  I just didn't know.

So today, my car was booked in for its annual service. At 8am.  Because that seemed like a good idea at the time (UURGH!)  Of course, my alarm clock batteries died, so I woke up at 8.30am and panicked.  I really wanted to cancel the service, to get back into bed, and to beat myself up for not even being able to get up in time to take my stupid car for a stupid service. 

But something in my brain told me to stop being an idiot, to get dressed and to just take the car for its stupid appointment. Just put on some jeans and a hoody.  Then walk down the stairs.  Then get in the car.  Then drive to the garage.  Then explain to the lady at the desk why I'm there.  Once that's done, I'd have a few hours to spare and I could be productive.  There's a McDonald's next to the garage, I could just sit in there and do some life-admin. Easy (HA!).

I got as far as McDonalds, bought an unsurprisingly disappointing breakfast and decided to read a book for a while.  A couple of hours and two large cups of tea later, I got a phone call.  They couldn't service my car today because they'd over-booked.  It was nearly 11am and I'd wasted perfectly good lying in bed doing nothing time in bloody McDonalds.  I did later apologise to the lady who called me for being a bit rude (I may have used the words useless and incompetent, but I really didn't mean them - I was mostly just angry at myself for oversleeping).

Regardless, I was angry.  And I knew I was angry, which made me sort of happy (because I recognised I was angry and I acknowledged it - that's a pretty new thing).  Then I got all confused again, and wanted to run away and hide under a blanket on my sofa.  But then I got frustrated because I didn't really want to hide, I wanted to be able to do the things that normal people do at the weekend without completely overthinking and freaking out.  And then I freaked out and got angry at myself.

Eventually, I found myself at a local shopping park.  Somehow, in the confused mess that is my head, the tiny part of my brain we call my subconscious decided to be spontaneous and decided I was going to go to the cinema.

In the past I-don't-know-how-long, I have been to the cinema exactly once to see a film that I actually wanted to see (I'm not including the two times in the past 18 months that I have been with Brownies - if I were to voluntarily go to the cinema, Penguins of Madagascar would not have been my first choice of film...).  Going to the cinema is one of the many things on my list of 'I really want to do but I'm completely overwhelmed so I won't' (along with clothes shopping and generally being in public spaces on my own).  There have been so many films over the past few years that I've really wanted to see, but either argued that 'it's cheaper to buy it on DVD', or 'what if I do it wrong?' (HOW DO YOU DO GOING TO THE CINEMA 'WRONG' STUPID-HEAD?!!)

To give you an idea of how completely overwhelming going to the cinema is, here is a list of the things going round my head in the (literally) fifteen minutes it took me to get from my car into the cinema screen:

1.  Get out of the car.  Just get out of the car.
2.  Did I lock the car?  (*goes back and checks car is locked*)
3.  There are lots of small children around.  Maybe this is a family showing.  Maybe I should just go home.
4.  Just buy the bloody ticket you stupid idiot.
5.  That lady is dressed up in fancy dress and is smiling at me.  Oh god, what if she speaks to me.
6.  Phew, the small child distracted her. 
7.  Can I buy tickets at the machine?  Yes, good.
8.  Why won't it let me buy tickets for the midday viewing?
9.  Oh, wait, I already selected the midday viewing.  Phew.  No-one saw.
10.  Am I too late for the midday viewing?  No, seven minutes, I can do this.
11.  Oh crap, since when did you need to select a seat?!
12.  Where am I going to sit?!
13.  I need to sit in the middle otherwise I'm blind and won't see the film.  To get to the middle I need to pass other groups of people.   Where is the least populated area in the cinema?
14.  Why are there so many small children? 
15.  I'll just pick this seat here, there's no-one either side, maybe I won't be in the way if I sit there.
16.  This machine is stupid, why does it ask so many questions?  And why did it just spit my ticket out on the floor?  That's unhelpful.
17.  Right, seat H15.  H15.  Screen 3, H15.  Show the man the ticket.  No, idiot, that's your receipt.  Why is there so much paper?
18.  Do I have time to pee?  What if I need to pee halfway through the film?  I can't just get up and pee.  I'll just go pee now, just incase.  But what if I need to pee again?  I always need to pee.
19.  How do I turn the stupid tap on?  Why am I so stupid, maybe I should just go home.  But I spent lots of money on this ticket, I just need to get on with it.  But there are lots of children everywhere, what if their parents realise I'm an adult, on my own, watching a kids film.  Oh, it's a motion-sensored tap.  Well that old lady clearly thinks I'm an idiot as well.  Good job Rosy.  Good job.
20.  Right, it's now or never.  I really want to see this film.  Just walk into screen 3.  H15.  If I look like I know what I'm doing, no-one is going to stop and ask what I'm doing here.  I belong here, I bought a ticket and everything.  I'll just wait for that family to go in.  And that one.  Just go in.  God Rosy, stop being a complete wuss, just go and sit in the bloody cinema. 
21.  Oh look, a map, that'll show me where I'm sitting, that's useful.
22.  Oh crap, there are loads of people here, and my seat's on the other side of the screen - I have to walk infront of everyone to get to my seat.
23.  Rosy, don't fall over the man in the wheelchair.  Don't look up, just keep walking.
24.  Where the hell are the letters?!  Why can't I see row H?  If I crouch down, I'm going to look stupid and people are going to notice me.  Oh, here's row H.
25.  H15.  Sit down.  Get juice and half eaten chocolate bar out of your bag.  Good.  Now, enjoy the film.
26.  Why hasn't it started yet?  Maybe I'm in the wrong screen.
27.  I'm the only person here on my own.  All of the other grown up people are here with small children.  What if they notice I'm here on my own and say something?
28.  I just want to watch the film.  What if they ask me to leave?  I'm not doing anything, but what if they think I'm weird and want me to leave.
29.  That child just asked why it is dark.  It is really dark.  Is it normally this dark?  Am I in the right screen?  Maybe they changed the screen and I missed the announcement.
30.  Oh thank god, the adverts are starting.  Just focus on the adverts.  It'll be ok.

No wonder I've not been to the cinema in a while.  I'm exhausted and the film hasn't even started.

I'll update you on the rest of the trip once I've recovered...

Positive Thinking and Emotional Rollercoasters

Thank you everyone for all your lovely words of support over the last few days. I am exhausted, physically and mentally, but the fact that I am recognising emotions (currently anger, frustration, relief and a new one - humiliation) is a really positive sign.

Last night, I got so caught up in all those emotions that I found myself picking up the phone to the Samaritans. This is something I have never done before, and it terrified me. I just wanted to rant at someone neutral, to not have to phone a friend at midnight and feel like a failure or have to pretend that sympathy was helping (as a side note, sympathy doesn't help, it just make me feel like I'm letting you down. If you want to help, let me rant, and just listen to me. And I promise not to call you in the middle of the night!)

In the end, I didn't go through with it. I had read every single page on the Samaritans website, and knew I didn't have to feel suicidal to call for help. (Another side note - I do not currently, and have not for a number of years, think about killing myself. I am not suicidal. And if that changes, I have a plan that will kick in waaaaaaay before anything happens. Please stop worrying now. I won't do it.)

The thing that stopped me wasn't the stigma of calling them, it was the not knowing where to start. There were too many new and unexplored thoughts and feelings buzzing around (think herds of bees) in my head, and I didn't know how to get it all out to a stranger over the phone without having to go over years of background and rambling.

So I started to write notes, events and things people had said that had upset me or triggered certain emotions, and tried to find arguments and counter arguments for each point. After not very long, I was tired and just went to bed. It was pretty anticlimactic really, given that not long before I had sat crying on the kitchen floor in the dark.

Today has been a lovely day - I met a friend for a long lunch then spent the afternoon reading and colouring in. This evening I felt more relaxed than I have for ages, so I decided to write down some of the events of the past few months that I think have triggered this round of depression. Whilst I now feel completely drained (and my hand feels like it might fall off), my head feels so much clearer and I have rediscovered the stubborn side of me. I'm going to draw a line, and April is going to be a good month. I'm not going to be 100% better (it's not that easy) but I'm going to try reeeeeeeeeeally hard to focus and find the positives.

Wish me luck...!

(And does anyone have any suggestions of ways to stop my hand hurting so much? Writing is painful!)

Dear Depression

Dear Depression, 

Are you kidding me?  Surely you're joking, right?  Just teasing, poking at the edges, trying to see how far you can push me before I break? 

What's that?  You don't know what I'm talking about? 

My dear Depression,

I'd like to say it was nice to see you again, but obviously I would be lying.  

I'm sure I told you already you how much I hate you.  You make me angry and sad and frustrated and all kinds of miserable.  I have tried so many different ways to say that I am not ok, but I used up all the words before, and I don't know what else to say to make you go away.

I don't think asking nicely is going to help any more, is it?  

Oh Depression,

I forgot to say, thanks. 

Thanks for filling my head with the sound of a herd of bees.  I'd say swarm, but swarms are elegant and beautiful and work together as one for the greater good.  The bees in my head are none of those things.  They are pissed off and want out.  They buzz loudest when I need to concentrate.  Have you ever had a head full of bees?  They're pretty distracting.

Thanks for waking me up at two o'clock every morning to remind me how completely and utterly useless you think I am.  I know we're going to disagree, but you really know how to kick a dog when it's down don't you?  Could you not at least wait until the sun's shining and I've had a decent eight hours?  That way I might actually be able to fight my own corner.

Thanks for making me so tired that I'm even more accident prone than normal.  Yesterday I got my hair caught in the wrong end of the hairdryer, and instead of untangling it I just cut it off.  There's a lovely smell of burnt hair in my room just now.  I have a beautiful bruise on my shin, you'd be really proud of it. (That's not related to the hairdryer incident).

Thanks for making me act like a complete idiot. Thanks for putting a massive road block somewhere between my mouth and my brain; for making me say things I know I don't believe or that would be best left unsaid. Thanks for sucking up all the energy I don't have and making me grumpy and irritable and just not very nice.

Thanks for nothing Depression.

Dear Depression,

I don't remember saying this was ok.  But then I don't seem to be able to remember much right now. (Thanks for that. Not).  If you think I'm going to let you walk all over me again, you can stop right there.  I'm sure there are better things you could be doing with your time. Like not being in my head for starters.

I don't like you Depression. I don't like you so much that I fully intend to fight you, just like I have done before and will probably do again. I will fight you even if you tie my hands behind my back, gag my mouth and fill my head with bees. I will fight you with every drop of energy I have. I will fight you Depression.

Because even though you're winning right now, I will not lose.

Go away now please.

Thanks,
Rosy