I recently read a blog post about how major changes can divide life into a before and a after. This resonated with me. I think about my befores and afters. Before my family immigrated to the UK, and after. Before my grandmother died, and after. Before my cat died, and after. A thing happens, and afterwards you are left with a new and terrible reality. But not all befores and after have to go like that, do they? Sometimes the after is better than what came before. Before being accepted to university, after being accepted to university. Before I was employed, and after.
And recently, before I could drive, and after.
I have a car now.
No more waiting around for buses, followed by an excruciatingly long and claustrophobic journey- funny smells, loud noises, packed tightly on overcrowded services. No more lugging my things around with me. Just me, my little car. I am in control of my environment and my journey. I do not have to carry heavy loads anymore. It is terrifying, every time I struggle with the clutch, when I stall, when there are no speed sign limits and I’m unsure how fast to go, when someone drives too close behind me… I have so much to learn still. But I can drive to work, in 40 minutes flat I can get there, 30 minutes when the traffic is good. (A two hour commute more than halved and much more reliable!) The world is shifting again. My world opens up, new and exciting, and also very scary. Another step towards an independence I want but don’t feel truly capable of.
A before and after that I think about a lot: Before I wanted to live, and after. The scars on my body remind me every day that I am alive, but that I once set a time limit to my life.
I sometimes find myself tracing the scars on my wrist with my fingertips, thinking about all that has been, amazed to have made it so far, but also wondering if I have the strength to go further. I doubt myself sometimes. I feel pressure and I know it’s coming mostly from me but I can’t seem to find the ‘off’ switch for my thoughts. I’ve had so much going on lately, most of it I can’t go into here, and I’m stressed out. My life has felt very all over the place, my anxious brain has been going at 110% with worry. Nights spent lying awake, thinking about this and that. Tired, so tired. Everything keeps changing and I am only just keeping up with it. Some days my chest feels tight, like I can’t breathe, it’s all too much.
But then I look at the scars sometimes and I stop at that amazement. I know I have survived, and that I can get through whatever life throws at me. I am reminded that I am still, despite everything, alive.
My brain can’t quite settle on a state of mind. I feel stuck in a bad place, wanting change, making some half-hearted efforts towards it, but dreading it all at once, and procrastinating and putting off the things I know I should do.
When I encounter something new, I begin to feel that familiar pressure to succeed at it. I can’t just do something without worrying about doing it well enough. Whatever ‘well enough’ means. I apply unreasonably high standards to even the smallest things, in ways that don’t make much sense. This is my perfectionism. I strive towards unrealistic goals and naturally never reach them, so I become disheartened and demotivated. Sometimes, before I even get going on my way towards my goals, I get so overwhelmed with worry that I won’t carry out my task properly that I can’t even start it. I procrastinate, put it off, and try to pretend it doesn’t exist.
I worry about driving, too. It’s hard to discuss when I can’t go into details about certain things, but I basically have gotten into bad habits, haven’t gotten much of a routine right now. I used my commute as an excuse for my disorganisation, and now with that stripped away, I am left vulnerable. I can look at having my licence and my car as a chance to press reset, as the good sort of change I’ve been waiting for. It becomes my hope that I can fix it all now; I can get my routine sorted and become more in control. But the reality is- I wanted a convenient excuse for why I am struggling (a bad commute!) and an easy fix (driving!) when there is definitely something more to it. I am overwhelmed by all the changes in my life, and I am retreating from it. I have set myself standards that are impossibly high and become demotivated because I cannot reach them. I am so caught up in worry for what may become, that I become detached from the now. I tell myself to take each day as it comes, but in the morning, when I have just woken up, my tired brain can’t quite be that strong, and I struggle to begin my day properly, and then struggle to get through the rest of it once I’ve failed at that. (Again perfectionism – if you’ve already failed there’s just no point is there. The world becomes very black and white.)
I am caught up in my befores and afters, tracing the scars too often, too afraid. This pressure to keep going, to keep succeeding. I don’t know what version of success I am chasing, or why I can’t be happy where things are now. I don’t know why I cannot accept the present, but am always looking ahead to what’s coming next. I can’t settle into a happy after without worrying about that shift again, something else changing again, turning bad.
Whenever I move to a new place I always do my best to find out where the cats are, and which ones are friendly. In my last house there were three cats down the road adjacent to my house, and I’d pass them by on my way to/from the bus stop and spend a little…fine a lot of time petting them and letting them climb all over me, because yes, I would sit down on the curb just to be with them for a time. In my new neighbourhood I sourced three cats all very close to me – two gingers and a black cat. The black cat is rarely out, and one of the gingers cat even harder to see, but that left one ginger cat, who was very friendly and was often out and about when I was. I’d see him to/from work and he would let me pet him. Sometimes he’d follow me to my door and show interest in being let in, but I never let him in and he never really pushed for it. It was fine. 
I have been so sad lately. Well, not sad. But rather unhappy. There are a lot of stressful things going on right now and I’m not coping and becoming increasingly frustrated with myself for not coping. I wanted to escape from it for a bit, and maybe I did for a while, but then I discovered that I was on the wrong path for where I wanted to end up, and maybe something broke inside me. It was too late to do anything except accept that I had failed. And so, I ended up sat on a quiet beach at dusk, feeling even more sad. I had wanted to escape my feelings of uselessness, instead I had given myself another chance to berate myself- why can’t you do something as simple as read a map right. why can’t you do something so simple as be on time. you should have left earlier. you should have gone a different way. you should have gone faster. I felt so useless. I feel so useless. 
It was my sister’s birthday recently so I met up with her yesterday to celebrate. We met up in Manchester, and did some shopping and then went for a meal. We happened upon a random food market and I discovered Manchester Tarts, which turned out to be a little sickly but delicious. My sister also took me to this awesome book and music store and I splurged on several new DVDs and books but they were so individually cheap I can’t feel too bad. I also bought new makeup, because there is no such thing as too much skincare and makeup (ahem.) Did I mention my sisters’ boyfriend came along? He was extremely patient whilst being dragged through the shops by my sister and me. I felt a little awkward with him there but I tried to nice, and I’m hoping he wasn’t too uncomfortable/wishing it was just my sister too much. Later, my mom and dad also joined us for the meal and it was a little overwhelming to have us all together (and so weird to be single whilst my sister is there settled into her relationship and bringing him into the family. I felt a little bit like a hanger on, OK. Group outings should always be even numbers.) But it was fun and the food was delicious. We went for Thai food at Chao Phraya. We last went there for my 21st birthday. It’s a good place to go to for special meals- with food that is a little up there in price, but extremely tasty, a lovely drinks menu including delicious mocktails, a good atmosphere and very nice staff too. Afterwards my mom and my sister insisted on going to one last shop, so they did, and myself, my dad and my sisters’ boyfriend sat on the comfy couches outside the changing rooms and waited. Then we all headed to get our respective trams/trains to get home. I got home late, and was sleepy, but happy.