This is very much a rambling post. Another “Clearing my head.” so if you have no interest in the inner workings of my brain please, feel free to read no further, I won’t judge you. I know some will have been waiting for the next instalment of the story. (Don’t worry, it’s coming) 🙂
I’m very much the type of person to use inspirational quotes, the quotes vary according to my mood and what I need inspiring about. Sometimes not just quotes, for years I had a poster of the Desiderata on my wall but doing one thing every day that scares me hasn’t been one I think about very often. But reading Charlie’s post this morning made me realise that I have been doing a couple of scary things every day – one is this blog – every time I hit publish it scares me, whether I’m posting photos or writing. How will people react? Will anyone react? Does anyone really care? And of course, every day I do get a reaction. Some posts get more responses than others and I’m sure there are some people who’ll see this and think ‘Oh god, she’s whinging again.’ But hey, that’s fine. This is my blog and I post what I want. Some days I do feel like having a whinge. But I love the interaction with people, I try to respond to the comments and so far I’ve been lucky, I haven’t had any bad ones. No doubt I will at some point. But the internet also has the advantage of being at a remove, it’s not face to face. What you get here is pretty much me, edited, cropped and filtered, but it’s still who I am. And that’s scary.
The other thing I do that scares me is actually getting out of bed and going outside. I would be perfectly happy to stay home and write, only going outside when I really had to. But I know that’s not healthy, I know it’s not good for me. I do like to talk to people, but some days I really don’t want to. I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately, or more accurately going to bed. I don’t want to go to sleep because that means I’ll have to get up the next day. A few days ago I realised that it was only on weekdays I had this problem – because I’d have to go to college. This morning on Twitter I said I was taking the last two days of college off. And I was going to be writing instead. I have four weeks and a novel to finish. Technically the next two weeks I should be doing work experience but I can’t. There aren’t that many places here to do work experience but I’m sure if I really wanted to I could find something. The thing is that the thought of it absolutely terrifies me. I’ve done it before but this time I can’t. On top of having depression I’ve come to realise that I also have anxiety issues. And I know now it’s something I’ve always had. I hated being singled out, whether at school or at home. I have no (or very little) self confidence. My way of coping with it has become one of ‘I don’t care what people think.’ And in a way I don’t. There are people in my life whose opinions I value, but, if they think I’m wrong, tough. If I know what I’m doing is right for me then I do it. It’s gotten a little better over the years, even though I still go through phases of not wanting to go outside, I can now talk to people, I don’t hide like I used to, too scared to even open my mouth to speak to the shop assistants. I do have slightly more confidence in my abilities, that people do actually want to hear what I have to say sometimes, but still there’s a little part of me saying ‘No-one cares, no-one gives a shit.’ I know this isn’t true but sometimes it’s hard to shut that little voice up. But the thought of having to actually go somewhere I don’t know, with people I don’t know is too much. I could maybe get through the door but I know I can’t do two weeks. I’ve given up a lot of things I used to do because I can’t take having to make small talk – voluntary work, support groups, even a knitting/crochet group I set up. All of these groups are with people I know, but I still can’t do it.
The strange thing for me right now is that I’m in a really good place, I’m mostly happy and a lot of the problems and stress I’ve had for the last few years finally seem to have sorted themselves out, so maybe this new stage of shit is because my mind finally has the time to sort things out. Going to college, the voluntary work and the groups used to be my release valve, the places I could go to escape the crap, or to talk about anything that was bothering me. Because I didn’t need an outlet, the feeling that I had to do these things turned them into a source of stress, so one by one I stopped going. I dropped out of college in March but by September I thought I’d be OK to go back, now I’m not so sure. I’ll just have to wait and see.
But now I have writing to do. 🙂