Sunday 20 April 2014

Crazy in love

One of the hardest things I had to do was to admit to myself that my anxiety and depression were a part of me that I would maybe be rid of. Coming to terms with the fact that there might always be the chance of having a bad day, of never being completely secure in my mental health was a really terrifying thought.  The only thing that is harder is trying to explain mental health episodes to someone who has never suffered from them.
Anxiety can cause sudden mood swings and changes of heart and can sometimes make you feel stressed and uncomfortable in situations where people wouldn't expect it, or where you were perfectly alright moments before. Because of this, I have become pathologically upfront about my feelings, I feel a need to talk, explain and assess situation constantly. I know that the only thing more difficult than suddenly feeling uncomfortable in an intimate moment, or stressed and introverted at a party, is when people can't understand why because that makes the situation all the more stressful. Unfortunately, some people aren't talkers or sharers.
I recently found that in romantic relationships, some people aren't good communicators. Guys tend to prefer to play things close to their chest and aren't very upfront about their feelings. This makes it difficult for someone like me, anxious people need a lot of reassurance particularly in vulnerable situations. Also, because I always explain any behavioural changes of my own, I find it hard when other people don't, I worry and obsess over what it means and usually feel like it's somehow my fault.
It terrifies me to think that this vulnerability of mine might make me look like I'm coming on too strong and I worry about the intensity of my mental health. When you have a bad day, you don't want to be around yourself so it's hard to imagine anyone else wanting to be around you, it's why so many people cover it up when they struggle with mental health because the only thing worse than lowliness is feeling that you're a burden on someone. I think mental health will always be a little misunderstood but I like to hope there is someone out there willing to try to understand my daily struggles and support me through them, the way my mentally healthy friends and family have had to learn to.

Thursday 3 April 2014

Untitled

There is a cure out there for depression and anxiety. Granted, it's not a permanent one, its a bit like taking painkillers for a broken leg, you still have to wait for it to heal from within but it helps for a little while.
The cure is touch.
It might not work for everyone, sometimes it doesn't always work for me. But it helps a little. Depression can feel like being hollowed out and aching; like a cheap, plastic shell of a person. When your mental illness kicks in it can take over body and mind, and it feels like the you you know and are used to is gone and you don't know when it's coming back. The empty ache like loss fills your chest and feelings of guilt and stupidity fill your mind. This is when human interaction can come to the rescue. It has the power to reconnect you to your body, to bring you back into yourself and help you feel whole again. That shoulder squeeze or arm rub or knee pat that says: 'hey, you ok?' That hand squeeze or hold reminding you to hang in there. Putting an arm around you when you sit down next to them. Looking into your eyes when you're trying to avoid the world. The hug that is tight enough that the warmth from their chest spreads into yours, reminding you that you aren't a shell, you're a human, you can feel and that maybe you are even loved.  That tiny touch is enough to remind you that someone cares about you, enough to reach out and give a bit you a bit of themself. I am lucky that my best friends are tactile too. One will always snuggle up with me like an eager kitten as soon as we are together. Another will press his forehead to mine, not in a romantic way, just to be close. Another will squeeze my hand or shoulder as he passes me to sit down in class. These tiny gestures are enough to bring me out of myself, to reconnect me to the world outside the darkness and emptiness that can take up the inside. A place where there is warmth, smiles, and offers not to say anything, not to fix anything, but to be physically present, to be near me in an interactive way, so I am not left  alone with myself. There is a quiet magic in the emotion that a simple touch can stir up. Most importantly it is a reassurance. It says someone is not afraid to be near you, and maybe you shouldn't be either