On Doing Better

It wasn't too long ago when I found myself at one of my lowest points. In fact, the person I was at the start of 2017 is a completely different person to the person writing this post today.

It'd be easy to assume that I was still in a really bad place, because on a daily basis recently I've found myself having multiple breakdowns and panic attacks or I've found myself struggling to cope with anything. Outwardly, I still come across as a complete mess. But the only reason I'm this much of a mess is because I'm doing better.

The concept of me doing better but acting worse is one that won't be understood unless you have been there before. Or unless you knew the real person I was a few months ago. I spent most of the month of March locked away in my room. I missed all but a few lectures, completed assignments scruffily and in a few hours because I mentally couldn't do them well and the few times I socialised was because I was drinking and because I was drinking, I was in a slightly better mood mentally. The thought of having to wake up the next morning actually broke my heart and I didn't want to do anything for a long time.

An awful month for me took its toll and one night right at the end of the month saw me re-hit rock bottom, with what easily could have been me going to hospital after a few too many drinks, some really stupid things and an uncontrollable anxiety attack hit. I woke up the next morning and couldn't stop wondering how I'd let myself sink back to such a terrible place, and about how lucky I was to still be in slightly one piece in my own bed.

It was almost like a wake up call. I have been fluctuating mentally for a good 7/8 years now, telling myself it'd all be okay soon. But of course it wouldn't, why would anything get better unless I wanted  it to? How could I properly recover without the want, the need and the motive to?

I don't want to say I had a "huge revelation and it automatically changed my life". Because one night didn't completely change my outlook on life. One bad night didn't make me love myself (I still don't) and one bad night didn't make all the bad thoughts just go away. An awful night just gave me little a wake up call. A wake up call would have meant absolutely nothing unless I did something about it. Unless I made some changes that would help me to finally start fighting back, to find some happiness again.

And it hasn't been easy. I cut out a toxic coping mechanism that I had been addicted too since I was 14. And so many times I wanted to fall back into it like every other time I tried to do run away from it. But when I made that choice then, I was genuinely in a better place without knowing.

It sounds stupid, me not knowing I'm in a better place, but still having nights like that. But the whole reason that night was especially bad was because I completely had fucked up what I thought was the start of a "new chapter" in my life. It was bad because I couldn't control it after a few shitty events and waaay too much wine.

But I was in a better place. This time a year ago, I wanted it all to stop. I didn't want to be alive anymore. But here I am, alive. And now, I go to sleep with the thought that I will wake up tomorrow and no matter how bad that day was, tomorrow will be a new. I look forward to it, in a way. I want to see what life has in store for me.

That's where the whole "doing better but not really doing better" is emphasised. Yes, I still am very similar in to how I was a year ago. I still don't like alot about myself, I get really bad days and my anxiety is probably the worse it's been in my entire life. But now, I want the days to come. I don't wish the days away and then wish I don't wake up the next. I wake up and smile.

I know that now, I can actually fight off any bad thoughts. Temptations of relapse are still very prevalent, but I now find it so much easier to fight them off and stay strong. I haven't had a genuine suicidal thought in a long time. I haven't had to completely argue with my brain in a while. My mood swings aren't as bad. Any voice I used to hear has completely quietened down.

I constantly ask myself, what if this will never become okay? What if I'm like this forever?

The truth is, it's already becoming okay. I can see myself in 1 years time having even less mental fluctuations than I'm having now. Telling yourself that nothing will be okay is really easy when it's all you know. But coming to the realisation that you are okay feels rather odd when you definitely aren't okay.

No one is happy 100% of the time. No one is perfect. No one is completely okay.

And I'm sat here at 1:30am, coming to the realisation that for the first time in a long time, everything is looking brighter.

Because this week for me has been hard. In the last 8 days I've had probably 10 panic attacks, including two absolutely awfully draining ones. I've cried more times than I think I have in the rest of 2017. I've slept for so few hours that I'm surprised I've been able to move each day (and have started taking tablets for this). I've insulted myself more times than I can count. I've wondered why I was having such a shit time when I thought I was doing well.

The truth is, I'm having a hard time because I'm being strong. I've lost my coping mechanism, so I'm struggling, but this only is making me stronger.

Because this week, on top of all the bad thing mentally, I've been happy. I haven't laughed this much in a long time. I've cried happy tears. I've spoken to people who make me genuinely excited to get up in the morning. The little things I've done have been on the whole, great.

Everything has a silver lining.

Even though the last days have been a bump, everything is okay. I'm okay. It's nice to finally admit to myself that I am in fact, doing better.

A Routine of Surviving

After falling asleep at 3am, I'll find myself waking up at least 4 times from then until I wake up, usually around 9am.

I'll wake up tired, with a headache from the amount of times I've woken up.

I'll lay in bed for 20, 30 minutes to an hour, contemplating moving. "Today is going to be awful, just stay in bed" I'll tell myself, before physically pushing myself up and out of bed. I'll probably yawn, spend a while moaning about how tired I am before I start to get ready for my day.

No matter what I'm doing during the day, I'll have the same thoughts in my head. Whether I'm at a lecture, at work, out with friends or simply sat on my sofa watching TV, I'll be thinking about how I cannot wait to get back to the comfort of my bed, where no one will judge me for moping around and attempting to sleep. I'll eat, take some medication to try relieve myself of headaches or anxiety or whatever the issue is on that day (usually both), and go about my daily life. I'll go around with dark circles under my eyes and a complete weight on my shoulders that gets harder to carry with each step.

I'll get home, tucked into bed and feel completely relieved that I'm away from social interaction, from the constant fear of the unknown and judgement from everyone around me. But this fear is replaced with a sadness and a knowledge of the lack of sleep I'll be getting that night. I'll fall asleep late.

The cycle starts again.

It's frustrating.

It's frustrating to have no energy all the time, whilst acting like you are completely full of life. There's no motivation to do anything, you have to force yourself with all your remaining energy to go and do whats needed to be done, whether this is to do with work, education, exercise or simply having a bath or making something to eat.

It's near impossible, you want to give up. But you don't. You carry on and each day you get that one bit closer to actually living instead of being stuck in a routine of simply surviving.

And if simply surviving is the best you have right now, then it is definitely fantastic to do.

Because you aren't giving up. The second you give up is the second that everything starts to get worse, to become overwhelming. And even though it is unbearable, by surviving you're telling your brain that even though it is unbearable, that you can deal with it.

You can cope with all the anxiety, you can cope with feeling completely worthless. You can cope with the noise and you can cope with every negative thought that is thrown your way.

Your head may only just be above water, but it's still there.

Everyone says that you want to "live not just survive", but if at the moment all that is possible is surviving, then you are living by just doing that.

I'm there, I understand. It's really fucking hard to see everyone around you happy when you are sat thinking that not waking up tomorrow wouldn't be the worst thing that's ever happened to you. It's so hard to have absolutely no energy to do anything you love, because all your energy is sapped through a lack of sleep or being drained by doing nothing.

It's unbearable to feel like a ghost in a room full of life, but you need to remember that however ghost-like you feel, you are still one of the bodies full of life.

Right now, I'm surviving. I'm barely sleeping, I'm taking anti-anxiety medicine, I'm barely getting through the day. But soon, it'll all be okay and I know that now.

Because it's okay not to be okay, as long as you are not giving up.