MI5…take note
When I first started this blog, the one thing I promised was to tell the truth. I wasn’t going to be some cheesy fitness blogger that no matter how much exercise they do, doesn’t seem to sweat, is never in pain or never eats a cookie. What would be the point? I know most of you and you know I can’t resist a triple chocolate cookie…
That being said, it doesn’t make it easy to write. I was dreading writing this post the most…more than the half marathon itself. Okay that’s not entirely true but it sounded good so for all intents and purposes it is.
For those of you who know me well, which is probably all of you since my current following extends to little more than the friends and family that I bully into reading and sharing my posts each time I finally get round to writing one. You will know that last year was hard. While I wouldn’t be lying when I say it was a defining year for me and I did do a lot of things I am proud of. I learnt a lot about myself in the process but it wasn’t always defining in a good way to say the least.
After a pretty traumatic break up in August ( oh don’t worry I’ll go into that in time) , I spent every second of every day in overdrive. I distracted myself with exercise and uni work and socialising and drinking to the point that my anxiety was in overload and I barely knew where I was half the time. I didn’t cry. Ha, I know it’s hard to believe- I have just spent the last couple months writing a series of dramatic blog posts because I decided to run 13 something miles. I’m so chill! It’s true though, for a girl that cries at cheesy scene after cheesy scene in every rom com imaginable or better yet the Doomsday episode of Doctor Who when David Tennant and Billie Piper are separated by a parallel universe- I’m in floods, no matter how many times I watch it. I’m famous for it- MI5 would call it my special skill if it was remotely useful in maintaining state security. Shame, it’s not. Anyway, the point is I cry a lot. Yet, last semester I just couldn’t cry at all. Now, I debated the reasons why to a great length- a blessing for my anxiety I assure you. Was I actually just happy? Was it just the right thing to do? Was I just so distracted by everything that I hadn’t had time to really think about it? The answer became clear in late November, when my sleeping pattern which had notoriously worked like clockwork ( it’s another talent of mine- MI5 take note) was shot into oblivion, my work ethic ( I have also been known to own an excessive amount of colour coordinated binders and whiteboard pens) collapsed and I frankly just lost it. I couldn’t concentrate, I couldn’t focus. I knew I was lucky…more than lucky. I have the best support network of family and friends around me but no one could reach me. I was working my way towards my degree, doing well and I was going to help people when I graduated just like I had always planned. None of it mattered. I learned later that this is called disassociation and while I was eaten up by guilt for several months over these feelings, I discovered that it was an extremely common reaction and didn’t mean that I didn’t love them at all. I want to stress that this wasn’t some delayed reaction to the break up or me waking up from some hazy state of denial because I do not want to trivialize how I was feeling and just make it about some boy. In fact, it would be a lot easier to be able to blame it on that…that I was heartbroken- at least I could blame him- but by December I knew. I knew this was something else, I was unwell.
I don’t think I have ever really associated depression and anxiety with the stigma that often clouds around it. I have family and friends who struggle with it and I believe that we all will have to fight with our mental health at one time or another. I thought I understood it and that I supported the developments being made in the field. Yet, when it came to dealing with my own…that was a completely different story. It took me a long time to admit that I needed some help, I just blamed it on the break-up and brushed it off to concerned friends and family that it would pass soon. It was already getting better after all. We can all recite the statement that we should care about our mental health, we rehearse it every mental health awareness day after all. It’s no secret that we need to make time for some “self-care” . I will write a post at some point about the techniques that I try and use, not always successfully but if it can help one person then it is worth sharing. We get mental health now, we understand it BUT we don’t actually do anything about it though, do we? Or maybe it’s just me. I know I have said countless times- be selfish- take some time for you- what do YOU want to do?
Now, it’s nobody’s fault but my own, but I almost never do. December didn’t leave me much of a choice, I had to face my demons before my whole life went up in smoke. Honestly, I couldn’t be more grateful that I did. I now have the medication I need and it has brought to the point where I can think about making a real change in my life. We criticise people with anxiety for not being able to “just do it” , go get help, fix yourself but when you can’t even string a sentence together or get out of bed , it’s hard to think about reshaping your whole life. There is a common misconception that antidepressants or “happy pills” make you automatically…well, happy. They aren’t some magic bean that miraculously leads you to a golden harp at the top of some fantasy beanstalk. Wouldn’t life just be a whole lot simpler if they did?! Yet, that’s on us to figure out. Yeah, I need the meds, but that is only one part of the story, I needed to take back control of my life ad not in a Brexit kind of way.
As I said, I had been on a distraction quest, keeping myself busy, “productive”. I had started volunteering with DIWC, trying to help these wonderful women but also hoped it would help me too. I thought if I could empower them, see them achieve and reach their goals then maybe some of that self-empowering energy, mojo- whatever- would rub off on me. Since I was a child, I always liked projects. Don’t misunderstand me here, that does not mean that my creative capabilities surpass anything more than a stickman but I do like a challenge. I like organisation, deadlines and goals. If it gives me an excuse to buy new stationery, I promise you, I am there! Friday nights get really wild when I get my week planner out, let me tell you. It’s a part of myself- the drive, the determination that I actually like but it’s not always been a part that other people like about me. I don’t know if it’s because it’s threatening or if I’m just intense, but it’s been an aspect of my personality that I felt the need to suppress in recent years. Until one day, I woke up and realised just how ridiculous that was. I realised that I didn’t want to wait until I was 50 for my moment of clarity, when I finally understand who I am and how I will no longer apologise for it. Why wait 30 years, when I can have it now? I like control- I won’t apologise for it. It’s not healthy to always have a tight grip on the reins but being in the saddle, being the one in charge of the steering- that’s where I want to be. It makes me feel powerful and strong and genuinely happy. On a personal level, that is what the half marathon means to me. This new project lets me take control, allows me to set goals and prove to myself that I can achieve anything I want to when I want it enough.
Funny story- not funny haha before you judge my crappy sense of humour — I was a couple of days into my training. I was excited, focused- physically struggling but motivated when my best friend came in and placed a shiny new book on my desk: Jog on by Bella Mackie. Like me, she had suffered from anxiety and depression to the point where she almost took her own life. Running saved her, it got her out of bed in the morning and gave her a purpose and something to focus on. It’s a really lovely book and I totally recommend it to anyone going through a tough time. Although, she uses her experience in running, she stresses that we don’t all have to. It’s just about finding what works for you!
Cheesy as it may sound, although I’m not going to apologise for it, the book felt like some kind of sign. Now, I’m not religious but I do have a soft spot for fate. I do think that our life is like travelling along a road. It can be dark and windy, you might be walking along it terrified because your phone has died and your torch is broken so you can’t see a thing but every so often, you will come across a signpost. Just like this book and if you are paying attention, that sign will reassure you that you are going the right way, even if you don’t know where that is yet.
If you are suffering, it’s okay. It will get better and there are so many people that want to help believe me. Don’t suffer in silence- speak up! If not to your friends and family, these organisations are always here to listen and you will be heard: Samaritans, NHS Tayside, Nightline Dundee to name a few.
