10 years on. This is a post I never imagined I’d write. I hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. Or at the very least I hoped it would be a look back on a terrible period of my life from a brighter future, free from anxiety, the memories of it fading as each day passed. But that isn’t the case and so, as ever, I’m here to mark another year. It’s difficult to know what to say, where to begin. I feel like I’ve said everything already. I’ve whispered it, screamed it, ignored it, felt drowned by it, continued in spite of it all and I don’t really know what to say that I haven’t already. As usual, this is just a stream of my consciousness so I’m assuming this post won’t end abruptly at the end of this sentence and eventually I’ll spew out a long stream of far too many words about something, or nothing, or a rambling train of thought, or 15, will come tumbling out, but right now I’m at a loss.
Every previous year on this date I’ve been slightly comforted by the fact that it wasn’t a milestone year. That I still had time ahead of me to recover and have this post be the one that looks back with distance from a place of recovery or marked improvement. This milestone is certainly hitting me very hard. All those years ago I’d never even imagined that I could still be this unwell, still be this scared of everything and nothing. I find it harder and harder now to see a future free of this, a future that isn’t limited to travel within my county, eating safe foods, planning everything to the nth degree and a constant underlying feeling of dread quietly pervading everything. I wonder when a trip to the dentist won’t cause me sleepless nights and panic attacks for a week in advance, or unexpected phonecalls from strangers won’t render me nearly mute.
The thing I notice most now is exhaustion. An exhaustion that’s hard to describe or put into words because it’s so complete, so encompassing and yet so layered that no matter how much you think you’re at the very deepest depths of it, it still surprises you and finds a way to become deeper still. I’ve been saying for longer than I can remember about how tired I am of being anxious and the more time that passes, the worse this seems to get. My tolerance for it regularly drops off a cliff and I feel increasingly angry about the unfairness and relentlessness of it. I’m bored of it all. I also regularly feel incredibly stupid because it shocks me over and over again the intensity to which I feel anxious. It’s something I never get used to. That probably sounds like a really stupid thing to say – if something hurts it hurts, if it’s scary it’s scary, whether it’s the first time or the thousandth, but I think we all think we’ll get used to things, even really awful things, eventually. Again, it’s not something I can describe well in words because in some ways you do get used to it, I know a panic attack a mile off and they’re not scary now in the same ways as when I first started having them. I don’t tend to think I’m imminently going to die anymore. But these experiences bring new things with time, like lack of tolerance, anger, disappointment and the exhaustion I mentioned. I didn’t get those early on into the anxiety but now it’s almost every time. It’s like being on a really awful roller-coaster or hearing a song you hate, at first it’s a bit annoying, it might take you ages to realise it’s the song you don’t like but after a while even the first note sets you on edge and sometimes just hearing something similar will be enough to wind you up. That’s the way my anxiety is often like now, even feeling something near it like nerves, excitement or apprehension, is often enough to start to make me feel overwhelmed because I’m just so tired of fighting. I can’t explain to you the level of exhaustion you’re left with after 10 years of fighting your own brain that’s constantly telling you you’re under threat and in imminent mortal danger.
I’m not going to take this down the super depressing path of listing all of the things I’ve missed out on in 10 years, there have been weddings, funerals, parties, holidays, all been and gone. Thankfully I don’t particularly have regrets which is something I’m very grateful for. It’s hard to regret things you don’t have a choice about and none of these things have ever been a choice.
I’m not an optimist, but I’m not a pessimist either, my Grandma always said she was a realist and I try to be one too so the following is a list of things I’ve achieved since developing my anxiety disorders. These are not things I’ve done because of my anxiety, I’d give up most of them in a heartbeat if I never had to feel anxious again, but they’re things I’ve done to improve my life, help others, fill my time, bring meaning and purpose, or to generally try to avoid my brain just rotting into an anxious gloop. I learnt to crochet and set up a Facebook page selling it for over a year. I was a carer for my Grandad who had Alzheimer’s for 4 years. I scrimped and saved and researched and investigated how to buy a property whilst in a very challenging financial position that meant we were only offered 1 mortgage by 1 provider. I moved house despite being severely Agoraphobic. I decorated our flat almost singlehandedly while Joe had to train for a new job. I set up this blog over 9 years ago. I set up my colouring blog the following year and have reviewed over 300 colouring books from a mental health perspective and countless sets of pens and pencils. I created a YouTube channel to share reviews and personal vlogs. I’ve learnt to knit and made my first scarf and hat that don’t have holes in! I’ve taught myself to bake and decorate cakes. And I’ve spent 2 years doing freelance work with Samaritans where I’m building my confidence and self-belief and making a bigger difference than I can here in my corner of the internet.
While this sounds like an impressive list and it’s a good reminder for me of all that I’ve done, these things don’t negate or ease the difficulty of day-to-day living with anxiety as severe as mine and I’d give up nearly all of it if I didn’t have to be anxious again. 10 years on, I’m not where I expected or hoped to be, I don’t see an end or even a beginning to an end in sight but I’m still here, still carrying on, still bleating on to anyone who’ll listen about what it’s like to live like this, to try to make people understand. 10 years on, 10 years of trying to make a difference.
If you want to go back and read all of my previous anniversary posts, they can be found below:
One Year On – One Year of Fear
Two Years On – Two Years of Trying
3 Years On, 3 Years of Managing
Four Years On, Four Years of Frustration
Five Years On – Five Years Of…..
Seven Years On – Seven Years of Changing and Staying the Same
In The Midst Of Madness 