Anxiety is my keeper. Late night anxiety thoughts.

Tick tick tick tick..

My anxiety hears, “quick quick quick quick..”

A constant reminder that I’m running out of time. How much longer until it envelopes me and buries me deep, hidden from the world for the rest of my time here.

No one can help even of they say they can. How can they ever understand what it pulsing through my brain when I can’t even catch any of the words to even elaborate? I hear short, meaningless words. Quick. Run. Die. Fail. Die. The only thing that gets me is my own anxiety. Am I a prisoner to this? Am I destined to stay locked up in this tower to which anxiety has the only key?

I can’t break free and I can’t scream for help because there’s no one to listen. Even if they did. They don’t hear me.

I’m tired of the constant battle between breaking free, waiting to be saved or giving myself completely to my own warden.

I just want it to be quiet.

But still, I wait.

The sun rises in the darkness.

I’m trying a different method in my life. One that’s not new but is new to my train of thoughts. Positive thinking.

Last night I couldn’t sleep. I lay there listening to my anxiety ticking in my ears, mind and eventually through my entire body so I gave into it again and climbed down the stairs defeated once again. I felt absolutely awful because today’s my fiancés birthday and I wanted so badly to be at my best so we could celebrate together. I cried so hard. Possibly because amongst the shelter of the still-dark-and-silent morning, I knew I could release without worrying or disturbing anyone. I’m so sick and tired of my anxiety ruining everything and anything that’s good in my life so at 3am this morning, I tried to turn it around.

I had a shower. One of those long, hot and steamy showers everyone loves but never seems to get because of life and time. I paid attention to the water flowing down my face and washing down to my toes. It’s been so long since I enjoyed a shower.

Afterwards I dug (quietly) the box of party supplies we have in the cupboard-under-the-stairs and decorated our home in banners and balloons for Nick. I’m so thankful that even though my anxiety cripples me and I have agoraphobia to contend with, we still have a thriving social life and LOVE hosting parties so there’s loads to choose from! I can’t wait til he wakes up.

Once I was done, I curled up on the sofa in our conservatory with the dog, cat and my morning coffee (one of many today!) to watch the sunrise. I’m and do glad I did because the sunrise was absolutely astonishing today. I forgot how beautiful the mornings are.

Less than 4 hours ago, I was a broken mess crying into my sleeve in between bursts of panic attacks, now I’m still sitting in my conservatory basking in the sun feeling so refreshed and content. I need to do this more often.

For now, I’m going to await my beloved and play Fortnite.

Today started horrendous and although I’ll be exhausted later, I turned it around. So today, I’m extra thankful for the sunrise, my fur babies, shower and copious amounts of coffee. Today will be a good day.

Here’s a couple of images to help get you through

C 💕

I’ll forever be in debt for these two. I’d be lost without their company, understanding and straight up cuteness in my life. Belle the dog and Yuna the cat.

Is the end finally coming?

My thoughts have never been so stable in a long, long time.

I feel like I’ve spent the last 4 years in a battle for my soul. Who I am, and what I’ve become never did match up. I was born to create. I was designed to be amongst nature and flourishing within helping people and making people smile. I was not put on this planet to watch people live from my window seat, away from the world. Depression so fucking hard to fight and I’m exhausted. I know it will be back but I can fight again. Now, I just need to claim back my soul and let myself shine again.

There’s so much more of me to give.

Please remember, you are enough. You are worthy and you are loved.

♥

Finding yourself: The never ending journey.

I feel like every 3-4 years I have to die so I can come back again. Almost like a reinvention of my former, broken self. Reincarnation of sorts, only this time, I seem to have forgotten how I did it for the past 12 years or so. I’m just lost. Floating around in some sense of reality, watching everyone else appear to live whilst I struggle just to get out of bed and do last night’s dishes. I’ve lost so much of who I am that I can’t remember how to claw back any of it. Maybe this is just who I am now and all I’m really doing is grieving for the person I was.

What do you do for self care? Any tips on how I can pull myself back on track?

Slam funk the funk. The funkiest of funks.

Let’s start of by saying how difficult the title was to write without “funk” being autocorrected to something I obviously say more than “funk”!

But more to the point.

I’m in a funk.

I’m not entirely sure when this started but I know it was before my birthday (6th of April) and I know it’s getting worse as the days pass. The things I usually find difficult to do are now almost impossible or at least, it seems that way.

I can wake up really good. Really like I can literally do anything I need to and everything will be okay, but then in the next second, I’m in tears, panicking through a anxiety attack whilst doing the dishes. It leaves me exhausted so I spend hours trying to recover from the attack and the next thing I know it’s 11pm and time for bed.

..sleeping is difficult.

..eating is difficult.

..getting out of bed is difficult.

..breathing is difficult.

It’s this everyday. If I’m not numb. I’m feeling everything at once and it hurts and it’s heavy.

I never want to be a burden to anyone so I burden myself.

I feel like a cabbage patch doll.

I’m so thankful to you guys – even if you don’t comment or read all of my posts. I’m thankful for finally not feeling alone in this.

It’s time to get funky.

Depression’s Ugly Face.

I haven’t brushed my hair in 3 weeks and I can’t remember the last time I shaved my legs. (Gross – I know!) Three of my fingers nails show the decaying flecks of red nail polish from my birthday in April and chips that would give Doritos a run for their money. I can’t remember the last time I even opened my make-up box. Sadly, this is a rinse and repeat cycle I’ve been on for 3 years now. Before depression, my hair was always styled and my face was painted to my sense of perfection every single day.

Now, I stand in the shower, with tears streaming down my face as I pull away the matted hair from my head and watch them glide down the body to the bottom of the bathtub.

I’m humiliated. My hair, which was once thick and full of glorious shine and colour, was once the envy of my friends, but now, it’s ruined. I feel like I need to shave it all off but that just peeks at past self loathing, that I can’t afford to go down again.

I have to fight everyday for the smallest things, things that I once took for granted. Showering.. Walking outside, glaring at the sun too much so your vision was filled with white specks of light. Small things are all I praise now. Before, I’d beam at promotions, academic achievements and new cars. Now, I feel like I’ve conquered the whole world when I’ve gotten out of bed and I can somewhat run my fingers through my hair.

I feel like the world is moving forward whilst I’ve gone back to learning how to walk and not poop myself.

I wish I could tell past Claire how great she had it, but..

Today I brushed my hair.

 

Observe (Post Propt Challenge)

Observe.

There’s this lady, let’s called her Jenny.

I often find myself gazing out of my window , perched on the window seat with my morning coffee and my dog. I see Jenny everyday like clockwork and although we’ve never met, I find myself contemplating her life. Where is she going everyday? What’s her story? Why does she take this precise route?

But today was different. She normally paces with a determined stride, rarely glancing anywhere but the next step she’s taking. But today, she slowed down a little and her eyes stopped on mine. With a ball of coffee mixed with anxiety stuck in my throat, I froze and we shared a moment, pouring into each others eyes. I know this sounds like the start of a great (or terrible) romantic novel but this was different. She smiled at me and looked to the blue sky above. I watched as her chest inhaled and exhaled in a simple sigh. I saw in awe her smile turn into a gentle laughter and she took to my eyes once again. After gently nodding in acknowledgment at me she took to pacing the concrete just outside my garden fence again. I can’t pretend I was anything else but confused, still. I continued to people watch and ponder about life.

A few hours later I heard the clunk of my letterbox close so I went to investigate. Poking out of it was a small, white piece of paper. I pulled it out and read what was on it.

“Life is beautiful. Thank you for sharing that moment with me today – Same time tomorrow?”

Small reminders. You may feel alone and invisible, but today I was reminded that I’m not alone. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll find the strength to walk the paths with “Jenny”. Maybe I’ve made a new friend. But today, the girl who can’t escape was noticed and if that’s not a sign of freedom impending, I don’t know what is.

C x

Update 769.0

I relapsed. Mentally, I mean.

I guess that explains my long absence from writing.

I crashed, fell and came full frontal-face planting into “reality” so I did what I do best and hid away from everything.

The year started good, at least I think it did? My mental health has a great way of coming out of stealth mode when I least expect it. Yet, I crashed. I apologise to myself for not running to my blog when things got scary. I just couldn’t anymore. I couldn’t do anything.

I’ve taken myself off social media. I’m sorry to anyone who cares about me for my sudden vanishing act but you see, it was either that went or I did and I have too much to lose out here.

 

I’m tired but I faught it again. Now I just have to rebuild the pieces once again and try to rebuild whatever fucked up life I had before.

But, for now. I am back and I’ll try to be here more.

Thank you* for being patient with me.

 

 

*whoever *you* are – thank you for reading. Things are about to be wonderful.

 

 

 

The morning after I killed myself..

The morning after I killed myself I embraced the smell of the coffee brewing. I opened the patio doors and smelled the sunshine. I sat down and watched the morning awaken through the conservatory windows.

The morning after I killed myself I was greeted with soft purrs from Yuna and happy tail wags from Belle.

The morning after I killed myself I greeted the man I love with a soft kiss on the cheek and a genuine smile. I laughed with him and fell in love again.

The morning after I killed myself I stepped outside into the sunshine and allowed it to envelope around me. I took a deep breath and I walked the path.

The morning after I killed myself I was met with a stranger with familiar eyes, happiness was shared in the brief moment we crossed paths.

The morning after I killed myself I went to that body in the morgue and tried to talk some sense into her. I spoke about the smells, the sights and the love. I spoke of the happiness from the people we’d see.

The morning after I killed myself I tried to unkill myself but I couldn’t finish what I started.
Over the past 10 years this has been my life. I know first hand what depression can do to a mind but I’m so grateful I never succeeded because trust me, my morning afters have always been worth it.

Scream, shout, cry, laugh.. do whatever it takes to ease the pain with people.

You are not alone.

Family

Friends

Strangers

Me.

HopeLine UK – 0800 068 4141

Samaritans Helpline: 116 123 (free of charge from a landline or mobile)
You are never alone.

Miscarriage and Mothers Day.

It’s been 8 years since my first and 1 year for my last. Loss? I didn’t lose anything. They were taken from me in a cruel twist of fate. I should be begging my oldest child to get in the bath whilst cradling my youngest on my hip. I should be preparing birthday surprises and getting excited for another Mothers Day. I should be watching Nick curl up on the sofa with our babies and watch Lilo and Stitch for the 10,000 time. That’s not how my story goes though. I’m a Mother without a child. A Mother to, a beautiful baby boy and girl. Except my babies are angels. I can never seen them, hold them or comfort them and they can never do the same back. Instead of lifting our babies up to the Christmas tree to place the Fairy on top instead of placing memorial angel wings on by ourselves.

Every year my friend and fellow angel baby mother sends me flowers and a Mothers day card. You see , I am a Mother. You cannot see my children or watch me be the amazing Mother I know I’d be, but I feel their love deep within my heart. They’re with me every step I take. You are a mother. You’re a mother to the most beautiful Angel in the sky. Be kind to yourself this Mothers day.

Don’t forget the Angel Mum’s this Sunday.
C xox