A comeback piece. A fear of committing to the written word...
|I don't know why I do this... when it gets difficult I go silent. It's at a time when my head is so full of noise, that my words seem to go quiet.
I used to use words to combat the trials and tribulations in life, to disseminate and analyse, and now I find the dreaded anxiety and tears just wash over me and then I get on with life.
The avoidance game is so much more effective. Except it isn't.
I used to take in every moment of life, I used to relish it. Every emotion felt was a powerful message to explore, everything had hidden meaning, the world was just waiting for me and it took nothing more than a notepad and some inspiration.
Now... lets stop with the avoidance.
Let's be honest, this year hasn't gone as I'd planned. And yet, it's meant to be the biggest year of my life so far. I turn 30 and I get married to the man I have been with since I was nineteen years old. Big year for me I'd say and one I guess, I've been looking forward to. Even turning 30, I just started to realise that I know myself better now. I don't fear the world like I used to, I don't shy away from things, I don't have any hidden agenda anymore. I am what I am. Or am I?
Just say it...
Eleven days into the New Year my nan passed away. Suddenly, from a stroke. I'd taken her out for lunch exactly one week before.
Now when I look back, that was her farewell tour and she knew it. How she knew I have no idea, but she knew. She was leading up to that moment the whole year previous, begging me not to put her name on a wedding invitation, getting me to try on some of her clothes and take them home with me and take things like a silver cake slice home so I could use it for the wedding. She was just getting her ducks in order. Do you know when you're going to pass away?
It's made me question everything. Is death meant to do that? I've never felt such a sense of loss. She was such an incredible woman, so strong and one of those people you can't imagine just not having there anymore. But I think this has now become more than just grief. It's become a questioning of life.
At one point I was so sure of everything and now I'm just not so sure of anything.
In my head, I know I need to get on with life. I need to be the Manager in the office, the person everyone relies on. I need to be the supportive daughter and caring sister, the loving fiance, the go-to friend, the person who walks the dog, does the washing and makes sure the dishwasher's on at night. But is that all I am? A collective of something to everyone and tasks completed?
What happens to dreams when children grow up? Do they just follow you around, like a pretend friend, to remind you of who you always wanted to be but never will be?
I don't know what I'm after here. My head's been so noisy tonight that getting the words out is so hard. My heart's telling me to let go, but I feel, and have felt for a long time, a fear of committing myself to the written word. I feel like if I allow myself to be analysed by people who aren't like me, maybe they'll come to the conclusion that I've been so fearful of for so long and figure out that I'm crazy.
It scared me today that somehow the days have got longer without my even knowing. How can someone who used to revel in every moment of life, wander through three months and hardly notice a thing? I can't keep doing that - I won't allow myself to slip into oblivion with every other lifeless soul that wanders the earth. But maybe somehow, without recognising it, I went there. I've made myself ill, I've felt a lack of happiness, and I feel exhausted by the life I've been trying so hard to live successfully. I'm trying so hard to be the person everyone needs me to be and in the mix I've completely lost myself.
So now, I feel like I stand between two mountains - the one behind me, is the life I've lived and the people I've loved and the person I've lost and must move on from, and in front of me lies an option. That life can be anything I want it to be. It can be the dreams I had as a child, the singing and the writing and the art, and that's going to take sacrifice and a whole world of hard work that maybe is out of my reach. Or it can be the life of stability that I've secured for myself wandering into the year. I can be that successful Managing Editor, the person with all the right stories to tell, the woman that people say has the best job in the world, and that works hard to inspire the people around her. Or maybe even a combination of the two. But I can't allow myself to wander another three months, lifeless and soulless on account of what - grief? Loss? Or just pure abandonment.
I said at the start I am who I am. That's genuinely where I've got to in life. But there's a key part to who I am that very few people know about and probably one of the main reasons I fear writing and committing words, more so when it comes to my life. But there has to come a point when you have to come clean with yourself, to then move forward. Today I read a post on facebook from a girl who had a child and set up a page because she found life with a baby extremely hard. She took to the page every day, exploring the 'real' mummy issues she was dealing with and so many thousands of women soon joined her. It made me think really hard about how much of a difference words can make and how lucky we are that we're able to discover ourselves with words, but also how wonderful it is that we can share that with the world and affect peoples lives. It made me consider really letting go and making some very 'real' observations about my own life, so that others too may be able to relate, feel at ease or just know that they're not alone.
ANXIETY & DEPRESSION. These two words haunt my days. Personally I've accepted them and I think the people around me, who know me well, know that essentially they make me who I am too. My other half calls them my quirks and the fact that I can't leave the house without checking every door twice and the gas hob twice and taking photos of things to remind myself that I did do it, are all things that make me who I am. I can't deny that I've come a very long way in the past five years. But as I see one slipping back into life, I feel fear creeping up behind it. If you've ever suffered at the hands of debilitating, crippling anxiety, you'll fear it every time you feel just a slight change in the way you percieve things. An attack, whether it's a panic attack or general anxiety, is fear itself. And that's what stops me. It's held me back for so many years and eventhough in my head, I'd never let it get me back to where I once was, there's no denying that sometimes you wonder if you're in complete control.
My anxiety affects my life, but I've never been properly diagnosed. Well, I was once, but the circumstances were different and drugs were prescribed which I refused to take.