December 2013 – Honest Lies

“On the white, bright window I write and erase…”

My mood has been swinging between extremes these past few days. On Monday I had my counselling appointment and afterwards I felt shaken, but strangely calmer and more purposeful. I went to the library and did not get a lot done, but I managed to get through some problems that I had been struggling with, and really feel like I got them. I came home and realised I felt happy, I felt almost relaxed. I did some chores, did some more work. It all felt so easy. My good mood carried through to Tuesday, and increased when, as I sat down to work that afternoon my phone started ringing. Could it be? I fumbled with my phone trying to remember how to answer the damn thing (funny how we struggle to do the most basic things when stressed, or excited) I finally managed to answer and it was who I thought it was – a company representative phoning me back in regards to my job application. “Is this rejection?” I thought, pacing across the living room floor “or…?”

I was successful. “Oh, that’s great,” I said, monotone, because I had to stay polite. I felt like an idiot. But what do you say? I do not think incoherent happy noises would do. Anyway, she led me through the details of what would happen next – dinner at a hotel, interviews etc. Terrifying, I thought, Oh man, I thought, this is happening, oh man, and I do not know what quite happened next, what was said, but soon the call ended and I shouted out loud, clutching my phone to my chest and jumping, high and round and round, flailing about on the spot like a fucking lunatic. I was so happy. (Thank everything the blinds were semi closed though) This job application was my first. I had basically seen the offer for it the day before the deadline and thought hey, its a great opportunity at a great company I’ll just try and so I did – even though my CV wasn’t ready, I had not yet ordered my transcripts, I’d never filled out a job application before in my life and suddenly I was having to write a cover letter and competency questions in an evening. It was stressful and I was looking at it more as an experience, with maybe a tiny bit of hope. I made it though. Now I have to worry about making it through the next step. I do not even know how I am going to cope or prepare or anything. I also have to find something to wear.

I have a fairly large wardrobe…filled with loose tshirts, casual tops and jeans. I own four pairs of shoes – walking boots, niceish boots, trainers that are falling apart, casual boots. I have one coat – a very baggy, casual one. I own a smart pair of black pants, but I have no shoes to go with them, I have no shirt, I have no formal, grown up coat – no fitted trench or anything like that. I have no semi formal dinner wear. I am thinking I’ll look a right idiot to get dressed up for the dinner – but I need to look modest, mature and well put together. Grown up, I guess, though what the fuck is that really. I have a vague idea of what looking grown up means, but little actual clue. I’m not even sure if I own any appropriate jewellery?! I may have some pearl earrings, but all my necklaces are cheap and immature. I do not know how I am going to do my make-up nor my hair. (I can basically … tie my hair up…and that is it.)

I am probably going shopping with my sister on boxing day. (Because seriously, I need her help. I’m almost 22 and I do not own any formal or semi formal wear or know how to dress myself for nice dinners or interviews.) I am looking forward to spending time with my sister, I am not looking forward to being out on boxing day, and I am not looking forward to the shopping. I have a very awkward body shape. You have no idea how hard it is to find clothes that fit. I also do not wear polyester, viscose etc which pretty much cuts out most of the clothes. No one wants to make things from cotton any more, and when they do, its the cheap and nasty see through stuff. Don’t even get me started on my wide feet. I really loathe shopping – its long and tiring and annoying. No one can try on pretty clothes that just will not fit for hours and go away feeling great about themselves.

Nevertheless, I was in a pretty good mood for the rest of yesterday. I even managed to rush through my Christmas shopping, because yes I have left it this late. Today though, I just woke up and nothing happened in particular, but I felt tired and fed up. I did not manage to get anything done. I did try to sit down and do revision but I was too distracted, I couldn’t concentrate. In the end, I had to give up. Its really worrying how hard I’m finding revision now, how I’m struggling to focus and retain information. It’s still stressing me out so much. I keep staying up really late, and sleeping half the day away, and I find myself feeling restless, distracted. It’s not good. Other things are going better, at least.

“Giving it all, putting it together, I look forward to some changes in life.”

This week not much has happened. It was the last week of the Autumn term and there were hardly any lectures, and I spent most of it in the library battling to make progress with revision. It still does not go very well, I’m struggling to concentrate and to get things done. I still feel overwhelmed by it all.

On Wednesday I had a little break when I went out to dinner with my Japanese classmates and sensei to a Japanese restaurant. It was a little awkward, for starters I over planned the journey and arrived 50 minutes early and had to sit at a bus stop for 40 minutes in the freezing cold, and then when I got there I did not know anyone, but eventually I settled into it and surprised myself by joining in to various conversations around me. It helped that everyone was very friendly, and interesting. We talked a lot about travel and Japan and that was nice. I loved being able to talk about my love for these things and not feel ashamed about it – because you are surrounded by people who have similar experiences, who have their own unique experiences, who love Japan just as much. I liked that I could be open about being South African, and no one cared. I actually really, really like how at this stage of life I can be open about being South African – though it makes me sad to think I have already given up my accent because before no one would accept me when I talked that way. Anyway, It was nice. I felt nervous and self conscious but I coped and even enjoyed myself a little. And although there were slight moments of awkwardness, I do not think I said anything too embarrassing. As for the food, I had vegetable soba noodles with karaage chicken, and it was delicious. Thankfully I could still use chopsticks after a few months of not using them, and my Japanese teacher used me as an example of how to eat soba to another girl who had the same thing (I smiled and did not mention I had looked it up on youtube before coming there.) I then followed it by a naughty matcha latte, which I regretted later as it irritated the hell out of my eczema. I guess I’ve been dairy free for a while now and I wanted to try milk again, just to see what would happen. Although I love the bitter taste of matcha, I no longer feel that appeal for milk, nor do I like how it makes me feel. It was good to discover that. Anyway, Japanese classes ended last Tuesday – with our sensei showing us Waterboys. It was the third time I’ve see that movie, but it never gets less funny. It was another little break. I do worry about Japanese, I struggle to find time to fit it in, but I like that it gives me a break from engineering, that it gives me something a bit different to do with my week. Consequently I signed up for level 2 part 2 next semester. Hopefully next Semester I will have more time!

It is quite hard to believe how quickly Christmas is approaching. I finally got around to booking train tickets to go home the other day. It feels strange to say it that way, that I am going home. Everyone asks me “when are you going home?” too. But it does not feel like I am returning home. Being in my childhood bedroom feels comfortable and familiar, but I no longer associate my parental home as home. It feels quite grown up to say it like this, that I am just visiting my family – arriving in the afternoon on the 24th and leaving early on the 27th. It feels right to do it like that though – I really do not feel like spending any more time with my family. I need my own space, my own routine. I have always felt fairly certain that the UK isn’t home, but it is only after Malaysia that I realise the extent I have long been detached from the idea of settling down here – seeing my family occasionally and communicating with them through email or over the phone feels right, this house I currently live in feels nice, but temporary. I am itching to get away from it all – and with just over a year and a half of my degree left to go I find myself anticipating my future career and the opportunities it may land me. I feel filled with hope of being able to go abroad – even just for a few weeks a year is fine. The thought of staying in the same place forever makes me feel uneasy.

Job applications are slowly coming along. I’ve sent off four applications now, and need to send off another one before I feel I would have done enough for this year. The process of writing cover letters and competency questions is stressful, but I also cannot help but feel excited. I find myself spending time idly reading through the information on company websites, or flicking through pamphlets gathered from the careers fair, trying to picture working, and mostly failing, but feeling excited nonetheless. Its worrying, to find myself falling so completely head over heels for companies that may never hire me, but its hard to stop myself. I often doubt whether choosing engineering was the right choice, whether I am suited for this subject, but this process of applying to jobs has really made me realise just how much I do nevertheless love this subject, and just how much I want to have a career as an engineer. It’s scary, I really do not know when I became qualified enough to take on a minor engineering role in major company roles. Although I am jumping ahead of myself here – although technically I may be at that level, it remains to be seen if any companies actually want to hire me. I am filled with anticipation though, constantly checking my emails, glancing at the phone out the corner of my eye. I find searching and applying for jobs, and the thought of working as an engineer, so surreal, but I want it so badly. I hope it all works out.

Next week I need to try and settle into a good study routine. Time is running out and I need to start getting somewhere with it. I also have a counselling appointment on Monday, and I need to see the doctor at some point too. I’m still really messed up and I cannot say things are improving there, but I am continuing to make small steps towards recovery… I guess. Either way, as nervous as I am about Monday, I am looking forward to getting some of my thoughts out of my head. I am so anxious, so worried, so stressed. I think it will help to talk about it. I want to have my old focus back, I want to stop being so afraid, to stop feeling so useless. I think I am too hard on myself sometimes, and that maybe I could be an interesting and capable person if I had more confidence, but thinking that and accepting it are two different things.

Post Title: Vanness Wu - Is this all?

“The firebird drops a feather,’ was his summary, ‘and if you’re fool enough to pick it up and chase the bird itself, you’re in for trouble.’ ‘And adventure.’ ‘Aye.’ He nodded. ‘True enough. But what you bring back with you in the end,’ he said, ‘might not be what you started out in search of to begin with.”

– The Firebird, Susanna Kearsley

This was my first Susanna Kearsley. I always hear good things about this author, but never quite got round to reading. But this book was £1.99 and I admit, the beautiful cover drew me to it, and then the setting – Russia and Scotland – sealed the deal. This book slips between past and present effortlessly, telling the story of Anna in the past and in the present, of Nichola, who has a gift that allows her to see flashes of the past when she touches an object, a power she feels uncomfortable having and struggles to accept. Nichola touches a small wooden carving of a firebird, and sees her first glimpse of Anna, as she receives the statue from Russia’s Empress Catherine, and the rest of the book is spent following Nichola as she joins up with her ex lover Rob, a far more powerful psychic, and chases after the back story behind that one, fleeting vision.

Anna’s story was riveting and I laughed and I cried and bit my lip in nervous anticipation at every twist. What would happen to her? I always wanted to know. Where this book let me down was in its present storyline, with Nic and Rob. Rob was so powerful in his abilities, seemingly limitless in his capability to read people, and present and past. There was one scene, one point in the book that I had to stop reading as I was so overwhelmed by…an indescribable feelings, perhaps something akin to sadness, for him. Just how was he so collected? So functional? When he seemed to be constantly slipping into the past, or future. Did he even see the present? And when he saw his visions of the future, surely it would distract him? Did he sometimes slip into peoples mind accidentally, when tired or unaware and see things he did not wish to? And maybe he could control what he saw of the past, but how could he control what he saw of the future? I admit I stopped to ponder Rob, and his abilities and found myself lost. Also I could get behind Rob pushing Nic to accept her gift and embrace it in her personal life, but I was disgusted when he pushed Nic in a corner in order for her to admit to her abilities in her professional life. That could have gone so wrong, and it felt too convenient that it did not. And to go back to Rob and his powers it was revealed a couple of times he had seen before what would happen in the future, the events in the book, so what would have stopped him from knowing all of it, right from the start? I could not help but feel that it was all a bit manipulative of him, if he knew, and did not let Nic know the extent that he did. That’s the problem with giving a character too much power, without clearly setting their limits, you cannot help but doubt them. Though it shows how invested I was in this book that I pondered it so. The author writes exquisitely, and the book just comes alive in your mind, the places and people so vivid. Its a beautiful book really, and an engrossing read, but not without its flaws.

(Also: it really, really bugged me how the author insists on writing out the Scottish accent. It was distracting.)

“Everything that’s fallen to pieces. The day’s lost its boundary and I can’t begin a new morning.”

The first week of December has gone by, already. At the beginning of the week there was just one house with its lights up – now there are a dozen, some houses have gone ballistic with lights on every window and gaudy glowing reindeers, and the lights and trees are up in the town centre. The supermarket has long been packed with the usual assortment of Christmas food in gold and red packaging. I don’t feel much excitement about Christmas though, never have, and now more than ever. We’ll get to why in a moment. Just a moment. This entry is hard to write. Carrying on the theme lately, my thoughts remain messy.

On Wednesday I went to see the psychologist. Or rather, my university’s eating disorder help service. There, I said it.

I overslept and although I had meant to go in at 10 to the drop in clinic, I ended up there at 11. I lingered outside the door, not sure whether just to go in or not, not sure if I even wanted to. What was I doing? I wanted to flee from the situation I had put myself in, to turn tail and run, to just forget about it all and try my best to go back to denial. But as I stood there I felt a strange calm overtake me. I was nervous, I was reluctant, I was embarrassed, but I wasn’t panicked. 15 minutes after I arrived, I knocked on the door and walked in. There was one woman there. I started off awkwardly, not sure where to begin, but as the session went on I felt it all spilling out of me. It was not like the doctors, where I was so terrified and panicked that I could hardly speak. I was still weirdly calm, almost detached from the situation. I talked about the dark places inside me as if they were small, meaningless things. As if they did not scare me, or make me feel ashamed. The woman listened, and asked all the right leading questions, which was what probably made it so easy, because responding is so much easier than free talk, and as she in turn responded to me, to help me out, to clarify, I thought to myself “She gets it”. I felt relieved. She summed it all up so well, and it made so much sense, and it was such a relief to speak to someone who got it.

Then, as the session began to wrap up she started to advise me, and I grew quiet, subdued, as it begun to sink in the weight of what I was doing. There was going to be no magic wand to wipe this out, there was going to have to be changes, I was going to have to work to make this better. I was going to have to drag myself out of this, and it would not be the first time to go through this fight. I knew that, but feeling like this, I cannot help but long for something foolish – some kind of saviour. How am I going to save myself, this time? I felt my throat grow tight but thankfully I was still detached enough from the situation to not cry. She told me, looking at me sadly, that it worried her how isolated I was – and I did not know what to say. Its been at least 4 years, possibly longer, that this has all been going on. When I left CBT the first time I was supposed to be better, and I was so happy. I thought it was over. But it wasn’t. Wounds not quite healed festered and now here I am, with all these bad habits and nasty thoughts, all tangled up with my being. I’ve been using food as a comfort for at least 4 years. Which I say loosely, as it is no longer a comfort to me. As the psychologist said, much more eloquently, you just keep up with the habit, looking for what it once gave you, searching for that relief you found (Once, when I was depressed, I would starve myself and binge on chocolate and the like, because it was one of the few things that would make me happy – no matter how fleeting, no matter how I kept needing more to get that same rush). Its become a part of me, of my lifestyle – a very secret, private part of my lifestyle. I have mentioned it on this blog in passing, light hearted, how I bought some chocolate to eat, how I eat too much but I am working it, how I binge but I am working on it. Always working on it. Recently, I had to face that I was in denial and I was not working on it, I was letting it consume me. Meanwhile, my anxieties and my fears are worsening, and I draw away from everything that could possibly hurt me – mainly, people. Isolating myself, barricading myself inside me. I am once again, slowly, surely, messing up my life, in my own little ways. At least my university work isn’t suffering, but with my grades falling last year, I worry I should be using the word “yet.”

I really don’t know how to fix this. And even though I long to, I am so comfortably set in my ways that no matter how much I know its wrong, and its not healthy, I still cannot help but fear change, because that involves leaving that comfort behind – becoming uncomfortable. Facing the unknown.

Anyway, I’ll be starting counselling for this in the new year. In the mean time, I have a diet plan to help me and a food and mood diary to stop lying to (two days in, and I cannot bring myself to admit – today I binged – and why.)

I had a project meeting at 12:20 the same day. I wandered down from the health centre to the bus stop, dazed, lost in thought, still in that weird, faraway place that I had been since that morning. I stood at the bus stop for a long moment before I realised I should check the bus schedule, and it was then I saw the time – 12:20. Oh shit, I thought. It was like oversleeping – it takes a moment for you to realise that yes, you are awake, and no, you are not reading the clock wrong. I felt immediately guilty and slightly panicked. This was a meeting with our supervisor aka a big important meeting. And I had missed it, just like that. I felt awful but what could I do? I hope my group members are not annoyed with me – I tend to be late to most meetings, and now I even missed one of the most important ones. I really cannot believe how long I was at the doctors though – it had not felt like such a long talk with the psychologist. I was, despite myself, amazed that I had managed to stay so calm for it all.

I’ve been in a daze since, struggling to get things done, again. I start off all my days with good intentions – with plans and goals, but somehow I always feel myself getting distracted, and I am struggling to make progress – revision is going so slowly and I am getting increasingly frustrated, which in turn does not help my eating disorder, which in turn does not help my revision, and so forth. Really, my modules are hard, there are so many of them and there is so much to remember, and it just makes me feel stressed. That and everything else. As of now I am juggling: six exams, one language course, one external mooc (online course), one group project, one eating disorder (and a possible anxiety problem). I feel like I’m being crushed under the weight of it all.

I’m not depressed, again. At least there is that. The psychologist asked me that and I had to think about it for a moment and finally I said “no, I’m not sad.” Because I am not. I’m just overwhelmed, afraid, and lost.

(I wondered about how much detail to write about my eating disorder – in the end I decided not to go into too much detail, but not to shy away from it either. I am still not sure if this is the right way to write about it. I still feel vaguely uncomfortable admitting to it. It feels strange, to have something like this.)

Post Title: MC Sniper - Spring, won't you come?

“Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on.”

Intermission: I’ve been lying to myself for a long time.

Do you ever have those moments where you realise that? Where you find yourself detached from the situation, from yourself, and you realise things that should be so obvious.

Two weeks ago I had one of those moments. One of those moments of clarity, resurfacing from a haze of denial to realise how messed up things had become. I realised – and over the course of these long, wretched two weeks, that I still have problems with mental health. In march next year, it would have been four years since my last CBT appointment. Four years away from depression and it makes me feel sick, and ashamed, to be back here. It is, not actually as bad this time around. It’s not even depression again, at least.

After that moment, as things suddenly started coming together into one big, horrible revelation of everything that was wrong, that had been wrong ever since that last CBT appointment, I was frantic. I did not know what to do, who to speak to. I did not even know really, what was wrong. I wanted a name for the monsters inside me. How could I fight what I did not know? I was terrified, terrified of ending up where I was four years ago. In the end, I phoned the health centre and made an appointment with my GP. After all the courage it took to make that phone call, I could only get an appointment a week later. A week of being unable to concentrate, of constantly worrying about what I was going to say, constantly telling myself that I was being crazy, a hypochondriac and I should cancel. On Thursday I sat, alone and terrified, in the waiting room, trying my best not to fidget, reading the notes I had made in an effort to organize my thoughts, to make sure I didn’t mess up. If I was going to do this, I was going to do it properly.

I wanted to tell someone all that I had been keeping locked up in my head.

I did not want to tell anyone, but I wanted to tell someone nonetheless. That is how my thoughts were, how they are.

In the end, sitting there in front of the GP it all fell apart anyway. I caught my reflection in the glass, the dark night outside making my reflection stark, showing exactly how red I had become. I felt ashamed, I felt crazy, even though I’d drafted out my letter six times, I still found myself unable to express it. I kept stammering, losing track. I got across the overall points though- that I am very anxious, and that I am struggling to control my eating. The doctor was lovely, patient, sympathetic, reassuring. He told me I don’t think you are crazy and I did not believe him, but it was still nice to hear. He did not give my monsters labels, which makes me think perhaps I’m seeing their stretching shadows, and not what they really are. That I’m blowing things out of proportion. At first, I thought he was not taking it seriously, then I just felt relieved. I needed that more – to be told, however subtly, that it wasn’t as bad I was thinking. That my fear and anxiety was blowing things up, distorting things. I do not want to be in that dark, miserable place I was nearly four years ago. And it is immensely relieving to know I’m not. I’m going to see a psychologist on Wednesday, and I booked myself a counselling session in a few weeks time. In the meantime, I need to help myself.

But I admit, I do not know how to begin. I’ve been dealing with this for so long, and I feel so lost. Notice every time I talk about food – I always mention the binging, and I always say I’m working on it. Notice, how many times I use the words worried, anxious, afraid. It’s been so long, and I feel so tired, and I do not know what to do. I have tried to fix this before, and I have failed. But I admitted out loud, I told someone my shameful secret, and that is the first step right? Admitting it. I did the right thing, right? I think it was actually easier when I was ignoring it all, now I cannot be in denial and everything I’ve been ignoring for the past years is piling up and I don’t know how to make it go away. This really is horrible. I thought, I thought after that appointment my thoughts would clear and I’d feel more focused. But I just feel embarrassed, regretful, and even more confused as ever. I cannot concentrate on my work any more. I don’t want to go home over Christmas, don’t want to be around even my family. I have to force myself to go to lectures – its so tempting just to go back to bed, to pretend that life is not happening, whilst I am here, unable to deal with it.

Post Title: Mary Oliver - Wild Geese

Tags

Categories

Archives

Blogroll