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Check out my new page. It’s there to add a little excitement to your visit when you have some time to kill and perhaps I haven’t updated in a while. Push the button and it’ll take you to a random post in my archives; there’s nearly 1 and a half year’s worth of posts to delve into and my journey of thoughts has been interesting to say the least – in that time I have considered relationships (past and present), anxiety attacks, novel writing, body confidence, my time in Newcastle UK, emigrating to Wellington New Zealand, job hunting in a recession and a newly discovered obsession with small and furry critters. Definitely so random.
In the past week I’ve achieved nothing except a mini emotional breakdown. I tried to go into Wellington on the train, had an anxiety attack and ended up sobbing at Silverstream station. Kiwi picked me up and I sobbed on him some more, then we went home where we talked about the fact I’m going to go insane (too late – I HAVE gone insane) if we don’t get out of Upper Hutt and I sobbed even more. Once I’d stopped blubbering enough to have a sensible conversation, we sat down with an Excel spreadsheet and spent a couple of hours working out that we can’t afford to move into town yet. And let the blubbering commence again.
I don’t know what it is about Upper Hutt that depresses me so much – it’s probably a lot to do with the fact it’s too far out of the city for me to travel without anxiety issues, which leaves me stuck with nothing to do that I haven’t done already (it’s a small place). I’m used to living in a city where I can walk 10 minutes down the road and just get lost in some crowds and entertain myself window shopping and daydreaming and hunting out kitsch shops and quirky art galleries and the like. In a city there always something going on – a new shop to discover, a busker to watch, an event to check out. Every time I have managed to spend some time in Wellington I have been drawn to places which make me happy and make me feel like it is the home for me – Mighty Mighty’s market, Leftbank, any number of the ‘vintage’ second hand shops and cutesy trash shops like Mr Thankyou; the summer concerts in Frank Kitt’s Park, the coffee club on Chews Lane and the Botanical Gardens. Then I have to go back to the Hutt and a dark cloud descends on my mood.
It’s getting me down that I am no nearer working for myself too. I’m still waiting on hearing if I’ll be working on another UK project, but Kiwi has been inundated with his own work so my website is still at a standstill. Plus there’s not much business to be had in Upper Hutt (I’d guess there is none), so again we come up with the Wellington issue – so many companies to contact but if I had to travel in for interviews or meetings then I start to panic. What if I freak out on the train/in the car and can’t make it? I’m looking for a full time position at the moment; I think it’s the only way we’ll be able to move into Welly. If I get a job we can move in straight away, safe in the knowledge we have the finances to keep our heads above water. And since I’m spending my days watching TV, blogging, going for coffee at one of Upper Hutt’s five cafes, watching movies at the Ascot and generally blocking out the boredom which is crushing my enjoyment of life (I’ve stopped jogging and swimming and getting out of bed in the morning is only worth it because I look forward to some peanut butter on toast with a cup of tea). I NEED to work full time just to get out of the house and do something worthwhile.
To be fair, amongst all the self obsessed doom and gloom, I know there will be a happy ending and it will probably only be 6 months until we get there. That’s pretty good considering Cinderella, Rapunzel, Snow White and the rest waited for the first 25 years of their lives for their happy ending to happen, and they had it pretty shit up until that point. I’ve always had it pretty good, so a year glitch although frustrating is ok on the great scale of life. I do need to make the next six months bearable for myself though – I am my own worst enemy. I’m becoming emotional, I’m letting my mood overtake my motivation to do something positive for myself. And recently even work – the one thing which made me feel independent and productive – is no fun anymore. I’m becoming intolerant of a couple of people I work with (luckily one of them left last week) to the point I lose sleep because I’m tossing and turning with pure fury at night after letting them get to me. I thought working at a cinema would be completely hassle free – no stresses, just easy work and some laughs. And it was to begin with, but recently I’ve been getting home and thinking ‘I shouldn’t have to put up with that shit’. Let’s just say there is a big difference in humour and tolerance of a 25 year old female Brit and a teenage boy from New Zealand. It’s not always going to make for a fun atmosphere.
So that’s it for the moment. It’s still ‘woe is me’; I still don’t feel like writing much because I don’t have much good to write about. But it’s Kiwi’s birthday tomorrow so I have to perk up and do something fun with him; because he feels the frustration too – we’re feeling sorry for ourselves together.
I’m feeling like a rebel without a cause; this morning I had my nose pierced, this afternoon I had a mini bouffant re-style and right now I’m hankering after a new tattoo to add to the one I already have and further cover my back in permanent graffiti. I get like this when I feel stuck. None of my decisions are whimsical, I have wanted my nose pierced for years and my tattoo has always been the beginning to an extension since I first had it done, but it’s the times that I’m stuck in a rut when I’ll finally act on my thoughts. It’s like a release, a small relief where I get to make a change in my life over something I can control when something I can’t control is holding me back.
I’m trying to settle in, make some friends, carve myself a place in Wellington. But things like anxiety attacks get in the way and good intentions turn to shit. Take last Sunday for example; I wanted to go into the city to meet up with the CouchSurfers who were having some drinks and lunch. The CouchSurfers are a good place to start to meet people who are all in a similar situation – in a new city, wanting to make friends and find others to attend events etc with. I already felt anxious about meeting people on my own and the trip would either involve taking the train or driving; both of which can bring on anxiety attacks, so after having an argument with myself over whether I could manage it or not, I took the easy route and decided to go to the cinema with Kiwi. I had an excuse not to go out and I didn’t have to face my fears. Kiwi and I arrived at the cinema only to find all the seats to the movie we wanted to see had sold out, so we turned around and headed home. I took this to be a sign that fate said I had to stop avoiding situations I wasn’t comfortable with and get myself into Wellington to meet up with everyone. Before I had another chance to talk myself out of it, I dropped Kiwi off, took a deep breath and drove off town.
Just ten minutes down the highway I had an anxiety attack. A sign I should have given myself a pat on the back for good effort and turned around. Instead I took a five minute time-out in a McCafe in Lower Hutt, then got back onto the highway and carried on my way. Half an hour later I had made it into Wellington and thought I was home-free. I parked up outside a dairy and practically skipped down the hill toward the intended meeting place for the CouchSurfers. But passing another dairy I noticed the parking signs read ‘5 minutes at all times’. I deduced that if this was the norm for parking outside dairies then I had narrowly missed getting a hefty ticket and trotted back up the hill to move the car somewhere safe. This is where it all started to go wrong. As I drove around the city centre I couldn’t find another parking space, I slowly realised I couldn’t find myself either as I had gotten caught up in the city’s one way system. Being a nervous driver at the best of times I get flustered very quickly. With unfamiliar roads, road signs, and heavy traffic flow I was fast becoming every other driver’s nightmare. I didn’t know which lanes to get into, I didn’t know which way to turn, I kept getting honked, I kept making bad driving choices, I had three more anxiety attacks; I was haphazard to say the least. It took me at least 15 minutes to find an illegal parking spot and phone Kiwi in fits of tears. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know how to direct me as I didn’t know where I was. My knight in shining armour (plus parents) dropped what they were doing and drove in to my rescue. I just had to get myself somewhere I could stop for half an hour and give a decent description of where I was.
30 minutes later and Kiwi had arrived; his ride (plus parents) had dropped him off. He got me into the passenger’s seat and took me out of my shortlived nightmare, back to the safety of home. It’s been a week now and I’m not sure if it’s a setback or not. It’s put me off driving into town alone at least, and I can’t seem to kick this feeling of shyness about meeting people. I feel I need someone with me to hide behind, it makes everything easier. Put me in a group of people I know and I’m pretty loud. Put me in a room full of strangers or people I’m new to and I feel self conscious and like I want to fade into the wallpaper. It’s like being a kid on the first day of school all over again, trying to find common ground with whoever you’re sat next to in class. Except when you’re a kid it’s so much easier to break the ice – just share your Barbie doll and you make instant friends. In adulthood you need a little more than a Barbie doll. It’s easy to make acquaintances – it’s the big step of turning them into friends which is nerve wracking. You start to wonder if people really like you or if they’re just humouring, you feel paranoid that you might be forcing your company on people who just don’t ‘get’ you. Or maybe that’s just me. Am I worrying too much?
Ah well, now I have a nose piercing and a choppy hair cut at least I can be like the ‘cool kid’ in school. Maybe that’ll work for me… Here’s hoping.
Everyone I talk to asks the inevitable question – are you excited/sad to be leaving? Right now, I just don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I’m walking through my life in a daze; I talk about moving, setting up as a freelancer, finding a place to live, looking at maybe moving on to Australia if New Zealand doesn’t feel quite right, but it all feels like make-believe. I feel like I did when I was 12, talking about big dreams and playing ‘let’s pretend’. Other times I feel really stressed out by the smallest things and my head feels like it’s going to explode, I have panick attacks, I feel like I’m going to burst into tears or scream at someone. Either way, dazed or distressed, I am my own worst nightmare. I’m indecisive, fickle, confused, sleepless, tired… I wouldn’t want to be around me if it wasn’t for the small problem that I am me.
But my mood swings don’t seem to stem from actually going to New Zealand – it’s the idea of getting there that’s looming on me. I’m anticipating the panic attacks that are seemingly inevitable whilst taking the tube from central London to Heathrow Airport. I’m actually more scared of a one hour train journey than I am of emigrating. That and the fact that I’m scared of flying, so for the lift off, touch down and any turbulence inbetween, I’ll be a blubbering mess – holding onto Brandon as though each moment is our last and sobbing into his sleeve. I feel like for the two day journey between London and Wellington, I’ll be holding my breath, squeezing my eyes tight shut and holding my shoulders up by my ears, just waiting until we get to our destination to let it all out in one big cry of relief.
I just want to get going and get settled in, so I can go back to being a not-so-crazy lady…
It’s been a while… I have lost my mojo. The novel has stopped since my last novel-related post and I feel 50,000 words would be a mean feat with only 9 days left, so we can safely assume that like everything else I ever begin with the best intentions, I have failed. Although, looking more optimistically at it, I have achieved the beginnings of a novel which I can come back to as life goes on, and add to. I feel there’s only so far in an autobiography you can get at the tender age of 24, I have barely lived life. It’s not an excuse for my failure, but a reason why the ideas dried up and I simply had nothing more novel-worthy to contribute, leading to a lack of inspiration and motivation.
The blog has been neglected too, I’ve not only fought off my anxiety issues but I’m also feeling relaxed about leaving the UK, my dreams aren’t as crazy-like and I’ve worked through all the little bits of my personal history. So, I feel I’ve come out the other end and can only move onwards and upwards – no more introspection or retrospection.
Week six and I have come to the end of these particular diary entries, as I seem to have come to the end of my anxiety attacks. I spent the first ten minutes of my hour long appointment with Betty today establishing that I was all fine and dandy now, thank you very much. Then we spent another half an hour chatting about this and that to do with life in general, amongst some small talk… then we realised we had nothing else to talk about and so Betty set me free (still charging me for the full appointment, but hey it was a priceless experience and all that jazz blah blah blah…)
But really, bitter tight-arse aside, I do really feel like I’ve been set free. I feel like I’m not scared of the move anymore, I don’t feel anxious or fearful. I’ve bypassed the ‘dark and looming, frightening concept’ stage of preparation to emigrate and now I’m onto the ‘inconvenient, irritating, why can’t the government get off my back’ stage. I’m snowed under with forms – a P85 leaving the UK tax form, a change of address form from the Driving License Association, an overseas assessment form for my student loan, leaflets about international bank accounts because my crappy UK bank won’t let me perform transactions abroad. Then there’s the list I’ve made of companies I need to unsubscribe from mailing lists, goverment institutions that I need to inform I’m leaving, all official stuff that’s dull, boring, frustrating and other words that make me go *le sigh*.
But, once this is all out the way I’ll be onto the last stage – the ‘excitement, can’t wait to leave, heart pounding, butterflies in my stomach’ stage. The best bit. And adding to the excitement will be Christmas and New Year, the best times of year – with seasonal festivities and joyous celebration after sparkling party after cosy times with friends and laughter. And what could possibly be less anxiety-ridden than that?!
I’m tired of talking through the same old thoughts that run through my head so I’ll keep this short. It’s not been a fantastic week and I’ve had an emotional weekend, but I need to remember to gain some perspective in that it’s not actually been that bad. Yes, I’ve had moments of anxiety, but it’s just moments, that’s all. And it’s understandable – Kiwi and I have packed up our boxes so it’s really happening now. I’ll be unemployed in six weeks time. We’re leaving in two months on Thursday. It’s hard to grasp and as it slowly sinks in things will become a bit overwhelming, it’s only natural.
This week’s homework from Betty is simply to enjoy myself. That’s all. She wants me to immerse myself in whatever it is I am doing – work, going out with friends, sitting at home watching tv. Just keep my mind so busy with whatever it is I am doing that I don’t allow for the anxious thoughts to come through. I’m not supressing them, because when you tell yourself not to think of something, you’ll ultimately start thinking about it – I have to completely separate them from my everyday activities, leave them to one side.
So, that’s where I’m at right now… I’m still feeling sad and upset, I’m still obsessing about situations I’ve created in my head, I just need some time for my mind to settle down.
I’ve not really felt like blogging this weekend. I’ve been brooding about Hurting Girl and have tried to keep my mind off it by staying away from the house, away from my computer on which there is a distinct lack of communication from her. And because I haven’t heard from her, I have been obsessing about it. A simple message from her asking why I said what I said has become an epic falling out in my mind – I’ve created an entire scenario in my own head. ‘She must hate me, why haven’t I heard from her, is she ignoring me, hasn’t she checked her messages, what is she thinking, guilt, shame, beating myself up, blah blah blah, etc.’ I spent yesterday wandering around town, trying to stop thinking about it but failing miserably. Everything in my life is becoming strange and almost unreal to me, as though I’m there in body but not in mind – my head is all over the place and I’m not thinking straight while my body just goes through my day to day motions. It’s not just because of the Hurting Girl situation, it’s just the slow realisation that New Zealand is getting nearer, and with it the leap into the unknown. But this strangeness has come with a constant feeling of depression, and with depression comes the inability to think positively or have a little hope, so the Hurting Girl situation is accentuated for me.
Kiwi was out for the night last night, and I knew that if I went back to an empty house I’d sit and think the situation over and over, obsessing about everything. So I called on a friend who saved me from a second night of feeling down. She was having a night in with a couple of her childhood friends but as a saving grace she let me gatecrash the slumber-party. It was just what I needed – I’d forgotten how much I loved wine intoxicated girly chats and it took my mind off things for a while. An entire night of chatting, laughing and drinking (inbetween a few moments of obsessing and talking it through) until half 4 in the morning and I was eventually too tired to think any more, so instead of going to bed and brooding, I slept a dreamless sleep.
I woke up this morning to no sign of messages from Hurting Girl and so the guilt and obsessing started again. A text to another friend later and I had arranged another distraction from the constant nagging in my head, thinking ‘what have you done?’. Meeting up for coffee and a couple of hours of more girly chats and cheeky chocolate cake and I felt almost normal again. But tonight I’m back to square one, and the worrying is giving me a headache. Usually everything seems better in the light of day, but that’s not proving true at the moment. It’s adding to my anxiety attacks which is the worst thing, because it’s just another scenario which I’ve created in my head, I have nothing to base my concerns on but my own assumptions. I don’t know what to think or do.
I must be subconsciously exorcising mind demons overnight, as my dreams of late are filled with blasts from the past. I’ve been dreaming of old school friends, school bullies, ex-boyfriends, housemates, work colleagues and pet hamsters. The dreams are so vivid and the content so bizarre, yet I’m convinced there is reasoning behind them too, I just have no idea what. The dreams often verge on nightmares and when I wake up I’m left with the feeling that something is plaguing me, I get so immersed in the emotions I feel within the dream – which are always full of upset, confusion and often torment – that on waking I’m still caught up in it.
During the days I’ve been listening to music which is reflective of my introspective mood, brought on by my nightmares. It’s self indulgent but the music helps to carry me away into a state of daydream, away from the pressing need to face the reality that I’ll soon be leaving my world behind for the unknown…
Reading the above back to myself and I’m aware how I’m turning an exciting adventure into something saddening, as though I’m losing my life instead of gaining a new one. Blame my current state of mind on the Dixie Chicks…
Today’s Psychotherapy appointment wasn’t the best, not that it was bad, it just wasn’t the positively inspiring experience that the previous weeks have been. I arrived late after having an anxiety attack waiting for the metro to take me from Central Station to Jesmond (where else would you find an obscenely expensive therapist of the Clinical Psychology variety than Jesmond, home of Newcastle’s highly rich, highly strung elite?!) The anxiety set the mood for the appointment as, feeling frustrated and disappointed at what felt like a moment of failure in what has otherwise been a good couple of weeks, I wasn’t open to Betty’s self-affirmations that I just need to believe in the power of my mind to overcome my fears. Oh no. My rational mind is just a pathetic little weasel that has crawled into the corner of my skull, quivering in miserable fear and has given in to whatever ends my crazed, anxiety riddled, not so rational mind has in store for it. It’s like domestic, mental abuse inside my own head.
the snivelling excuse for a rational mind is in there somewhere
Betty asked me to talk through the process from feeling a little anxious to having an anxiety attack, in order to understand where it all starts. It begins with a few negative thoughts in my mind about a particular situation I am feeling anxious about, then as the day draws on and I get closer to coming face to face with the situation in person, the negative thoughts become epic scenarios in my head – I put myself into the situation in my mind and play out my worst nightmares, as though a soap opera of ‘Oh My, What A Terrible Life’. And I’m absolutely convinced that the scenarios might happen in reality. They most certainly will happen. What if they really happen? Today is the day, I can just feel it – THEY ARE GOING TO HAPPEN… I build the situation up into something uncontrollable, my imagination is so vivid that it just gets carried away, taking any rational thought with it.
I need to reign in the little negative thoughts before they grow, nipping them in the bud while they are small enough to control. This week’s homework consists of writing down (using old fashioned pen and paper again) the scenarios which I think up for any particular situation. For instance, if I’m feeling anxious about a walk into town and I start to imagine all kinds of scary things that could potentially happen, Betty wants me to write the scenario down. Then once I’ve got all my craziness down on paper she wants me to write down evidence against the likelihood of these scenarios actually coming into play. I need to keep reminding myself that it’s just insanity, I am just a bit unstable. But don’t worry, the snivelling excuse for a rational mind is in there somewhere, it just has to put forward case and evidence that the world is not a scary place. NOTHING will happen to me on one five minute walk into town. I will be FINE. Eventually, after reiterating the point that for every scenario is a more likely, non-eventful, outcome, my irrational mind will start to feel unsure of itself. My irrational mind will be the one to start backing into a corner and I’ll be carefree.
It’s a vicious cycle of anxiety about anxiety attacks causing further anxiety and anxiety attacks
But before any of this can I happen, I really need to believe the positive affirmations I am telling myself – I have to believe my rationalising of potentially ‘risky’ scenarios. And it’s hard to believe nothing bad will happen after experiencing the anxiety attack that you are trying to believe you won’t have… It’s a vicious cycle of anxiety about anxiety attacks causing further anxiety and anxiety attacks.
Life’s a bitch.
He said, then she said...