Some belated retrospection
I know I'm a little late to the party with the whole retrospective thing, but it's taken my brain a little while to formulate what it wants to say about last year.
I'm normally really upbeat on the blog and in person because that's just who I am and how I cope with things. Finding humour in anxiety is often just what I need to make me feel better.
But it's also important to be frank. It's easy to look through the window thinking all is perfect - I know I've been doing that scrolling through Instagram posts littered with clinking champagne glasses, flexed biceps and engagement ring emojis (I had to google the flexed bicep, who knew it had a name!?) and starting to think... is it only me that didn't sail through?
In lots of ways 2017 was one of my toughest years yet. And by the way, I'm talking on a personal level here - obviously it goes without saying 2017 was a pretty horrific year for the world.
No, I didn't have an awful break up or lose my job. No health scares or personal tragedies. In fact I have an amazing husband who I adore and who has been my rock every single day, a beautiful flat to live in and a great job. It sounds awful, but it almost would have been easier if something had gone wrong because at least it would have given me a reason for the way I felt. You see, I nursed friends and family through heartbreaks, sick relatives and big life changes, whilst life for me was pretty stable. But my anxiety was worse than it had ever been.
It was this inability to explain things that really got me. When friends asked how I was, I felt silly admitting it. Self indulgent and vague. I bottled it up.
The truth is, I was blaming myself for an illness I couldn't control. I was making myself more ill with constant intrusive and negative thinking. Worst case scenarios playing out over and over again in all areas of my life until I really believed them. I felt guilty for not living in an ecstatic 'post wedding' bubble for the whole year. I felt lost at work. I felt exhausted by the constant barrage of abuse coming from my own brain every minute of every day. I felt unattractive and silly and slow. I felt terrified that this was going to be how I felt forever; that this was it for me. That I was poisoning my relationship, my home and my job with negativity and everything would come crashing down around me. That I had lost the compass that had guided me all these years. To continue with the seafaring metaphor (sorry) I was unanchored in an ocean of anxiety.
And all that is much harder to explain to someone over coffee than a break up or a career change.
So I started this blog. And I continued with my therapy. Both brilliant things. But just before Christmas it all got a bit too much. Maybe it was the alcohol consumption that comes with Christmas parties paired with all that scary introspection that comes with a new year, but the overwhelm peaked with me breaking down in front of my therapist in our final session of 2017.
Luckily my husband and I had a holiday planned to Australia just after Christmas for two and a half weeks and I have honestly never needed a change of scenery more. But even in gorgeous sunny Sydney, Will had to comfort me as I cried one night, having just felt inexplicably low that day. The next day I was fine, in fact better than fine. I felt myself and I felt inspired and excited to be travelling with my favourite person in the world. We had an absolutely incredible holiday.
But it just cemented how I had been feeling - I'm so bored of this illness. Of the extreme ups and downs. Why should it have ruined even one night of our trip? So I've got a plan for this year. My talking therapy has been great but I need some much more focused CBT to get on track and dealing with my thinking. I've got books to read, techniques to try and if that doesn't work? Then I'll think about medication. But after a chat wth my psychiatrist, I'm not quite ready for that yet.
Before the new year, our hotel in Sydney put up a board in the lobby and asked people to write down their resolutions and stick them up. Makes sense, seeing as it's scientifically proven we're more likely to keep them if we share them. Obviously I had several (I'm wordy) but one in particular was the biggest and most important by far. To get out of my head and into the world. That's my little 2018 mantra.
I'm normally really upbeat on the blog and in person because that's just who I am and how I cope with things. Finding humour in anxiety is often just what I need to make me feel better.
But it's also important to be frank. It's easy to look through the window thinking all is perfect - I know I've been doing that scrolling through Instagram posts littered with clinking champagne glasses, flexed biceps and engagement ring emojis (I had to google the flexed bicep, who knew it had a name!?) and starting to think... is it only me that didn't sail through?
In lots of ways 2017 was one of my toughest years yet. And by the way, I'm talking on a personal level here - obviously it goes without saying 2017 was a pretty horrific year for the world.
No, I didn't have an awful break up or lose my job. No health scares or personal tragedies. In fact I have an amazing husband who I adore and who has been my rock every single day, a beautiful flat to live in and a great job. It sounds awful, but it almost would have been easier if something had gone wrong because at least it would have given me a reason for the way I felt. You see, I nursed friends and family through heartbreaks, sick relatives and big life changes, whilst life for me was pretty stable. But my anxiety was worse than it had ever been.
It was this inability to explain things that really got me. When friends asked how I was, I felt silly admitting it. Self indulgent and vague. I bottled it up.
The truth is, I was blaming myself for an illness I couldn't control. I was making myself more ill with constant intrusive and negative thinking. Worst case scenarios playing out over and over again in all areas of my life until I really believed them. I felt guilty for not living in an ecstatic 'post wedding' bubble for the whole year. I felt lost at work. I felt exhausted by the constant barrage of abuse coming from my own brain every minute of every day. I felt unattractive and silly and slow. I felt terrified that this was going to be how I felt forever; that this was it for me. That I was poisoning my relationship, my home and my job with negativity and everything would come crashing down around me. That I had lost the compass that had guided me all these years. To continue with the seafaring metaphor (sorry) I was unanchored in an ocean of anxiety.
And all that is much harder to explain to someone over coffee than a break up or a career change.
So I started this blog. And I continued with my therapy. Both brilliant things. But just before Christmas it all got a bit too much. Maybe it was the alcohol consumption that comes with Christmas parties paired with all that scary introspection that comes with a new year, but the overwhelm peaked with me breaking down in front of my therapist in our final session of 2017.
Luckily my husband and I had a holiday planned to Australia just after Christmas for two and a half weeks and I have honestly never needed a change of scenery more. But even in gorgeous sunny Sydney, Will had to comfort me as I cried one night, having just felt inexplicably low that day. The next day I was fine, in fact better than fine. I felt myself and I felt inspired and excited to be travelling with my favourite person in the world. We had an absolutely incredible holiday.
But it just cemented how I had been feeling - I'm so bored of this illness. Of the extreme ups and downs. Why should it have ruined even one night of our trip? So I've got a plan for this year. My talking therapy has been great but I need some much more focused CBT to get on track and dealing with my thinking. I've got books to read, techniques to try and if that doesn't work? Then I'll think about medication. But after a chat wth my psychiatrist, I'm not quite ready for that yet.
Before the new year, our hotel in Sydney put up a board in the lobby and asked people to write down their resolutions and stick them up. Makes sense, seeing as it's scientifically proven we're more likely to keep them if we share them. Obviously I had several (I'm wordy) but one in particular was the biggest and most important by far. To get out of my head and into the world. That's my little 2018 mantra.
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