Remembering while you’re in the pit.

Sometimes we forget when we are down that there have been good times too. As you’ve maybe noticed, I haven’t been myself lately. Not to say that I am always a bouncy, bubbly, happy person, but I am more than I currently have allowed myself to be. Or I should say that I am more than my mental illness has allowed me to be.

In an effort to cheer me up (because she is the best), my friend asked me to draw my most loved/happiest memory of a time we spent together this year. This put me in a pickle. I had the same pickle when I was trying to do my Patronus test on Pottermore this year. Name a happy memory? Uhh… I will get to that… immediately. Fun times are totally right in the forefront of my mind.

I actually had to reach back and it made me feel horrible. I love my support circle so much. I get so much personal time with my mom and my brother, my best friends and my cousins. I hated that I couldn’t think of my happiest memory ever. Depression and anxiety rob you of that in such a strange way. It’s like all your happy times are muted a little bit. I KNOW that I have laugh-cried several times this year, both in person and on the phone with my best friend. We have had slumber parties, movie nights and museum trips. My mom and I have gone hiking practically every week since the spring, and it has given me great joy to share the forest with her. My dog is at the dog park several times a week, acting like a derp and running full tilt until I am in fits. I have been happy. I know I have. Why is it so hard to remember?

I know the Patronus test is like a kiddy thing to do. The computer code doesn’t care that you’re not remembering your best memory; it literally tells you that the speed with which you answer helps to determine the direction your results take. That being said, I was embarrassed. I reached back and remembered my own vacation to Hogwarts a couple of summers ago. It was literally perfect. My memories shine bright because I was in a pit then too, and it felt like a new beginning to me in some way. That’s when I started questioning if I was really happy then, too. Or my mental illness did. Wasn’t it too hot? Did you and Tanya fight at all, I can’t remember, Crystal. You ran out of money and couldn’t get all the fun stuff you wanted. Don’t forget coming back to credit card debt! It was awful. Remembering one of the best weeks of my life turned into me ruining it.

I didn’t want to do that this afternoon. I’m afraid of remembering happy times, because I don’t want to question them too. Of course I was happy this year. I know I was. It’s hard to remember when your brain is fuzzy and your mind is telling you that you are a piece of shit. I don’t know if any of this makes a ton of sense, or if people who suffer with mental illness just kind of get it, but it makes me feel like the worst friend. I didn’t want to draw a picture for my friend who was trying to make me feel better. Potentially tarnishing something that I have to already reach back in my memories for feels like something beyond that which I can handle at the moment. So I apologized and told her it was hard.

And I continue to feel guilty.

I want to kick my own ass (and other motivational words from me)

The thing I hate most about being in a depressive hole for so long is that I don’t give up hope. I’m one of those people who believes my life is eventually going to get better. Everyone has these pitfalls every once in a while… there’s going to be one small delight or accomplishment that’s going to get me back on track and I’m going to move forward, stronger than ever.

That’s why I woke up this morning so upset. Yesterday, I finally did something that I’ve been putting off for years. I went and did my first road test (my province has graduated licensing, so it’s one written test, followed by two road tests). I can drive by myself again. When I had lost my license (because I didn’t finish the last road test within the allotted five years), I had felt like an idiot. Doing the first written test again made me feel immature. Having to get a driving instructor to monitor me for a session made me feel ridiculous. That being said, I did all of this because months ago a very close friend who was concerned at my mental state then told me I ‘needed a win.’ I needed to succeed at one thing that I knew I could already do, that might be a little bit stressful, but that in the end would launch me out of the mood I was in and back on the path to winning. That for some stupid reason is what I expected out of yesterday. I was hopeful. I thought I’d finally be ok with job applications, and the stress of letting other people worry about me (which is a whole other post, trust me) and the need to find something good that I could build my life out of.

I feel like I’m kind of in the starting gate still and everyone else is getting their shit together. This is common – especially for my generation – but, I can’t seem to get my head to reevaluate my position. I’m stuck in this damned mood and I wanted this win too. I passed, everything is great, but I still feel like a failure and unjustifiably numb. I’m not better. It didn’t magically lift me out of shit. It’s small peanuts in comparison to being unemployed and not having enough money for dog food and groceries. It’s not an accomplishment if I still have to ask my mom for money or for my friends to pay for things. I should be an adult by now, right? There’s too much going on in my brain to let something like being able to drive make me feel better, maybe. I don’t even have a car. I can’t afford to rent a car or borrow one and pay for gas. I have nothing right now. It’s not a win at all.

 

This entire post reminds me of Live Journal. Did anyone have one of those as a teen? All my friends would use them as half-diary, half-quiz-collection catch alls. I just remember the need to emote a lot. Sometimes I had things that were actually problems, but I was soooo dramatic about it. I guess I need to put my drama somewhere, right? Let me inner-monologue here for a bit! I’ll be kind of funny again soon, I assume.

This is just complaining. Whoops.

I’ll come back to post something better when I feel like I can move again.

Don’t forget to be awesome. x

Do you know how great the Self-Help genre is? … And other thoughts.

Guys,

I’d love to tell you that I’ve been crazy productive in the past year, and everything in my previous ‘Everything is TEMPORARY’ post has completely shifted. Ha ha, I can’t. A lot of things are different, but a lot of things are the same. That’s how life works out most of the time, right? I wanted to get back into blogging because I still want to show discipline and I want something I can excel at – even just for me – and my friends are right: Writing is cathartic. In a way. It also leaves me biting my nails and wondering if anyone cares at all about my crazy ass rants. Maybe. You seem to have stuck with me through this paragraph – good on you. Kudos.

Anyways, I just wanted to maybe update you on some of the fun things that are going on in my life, some things I want to plan and just stay positive. People with anxiety have problems really living in the ‘now’ and totally forget all the good shit they have going on, and focus on the future (and if you get the added bonus of depression, the past as well). It’s something I’m still struggling to work on, but I can say that I’ve been a lot more receptive to reading self improvement books and psychology books actually talking about what the fuck my head is trying to make me into – like when I suddenly remember my 5th grade pseudo-boyfriend and I at 2:30 AM. It’s helping. Really. It is! Guys, I swear! I always thought it was bullshit to read self affirming garbage that tells you things you already know. It’s like listening to your mother telling you you’re special and he didn’t deserve you anyways. Guys, I am such a convert. Self improvement (self-help) books, or at least the ones I’ve been carefully selecting due to their creative use of swearwords on their covers, are AWESOME. I love affirmations. I’m going to tell myself I’m BRIGHT, I’m BRILLIANT, and I’m BEAUTIFUL every fucking day for the rest of my life. I’ll try posing like wonder woman in the bathroom of the doctor’s office when I have to ask for a second opinion, why not? You want me to post sticky notes on my door telling myself ‘I love me’? You fucking got it.

The best thing about these audio books, kindle read-a-longs and good ol’ fashioned hardcovers is that if you get annoyed with the positivity that it is trying to bring to your world, you just close the fucking thing and wallow, my friend. No one is stopping you. You don’t have to upset your mom or your friend by side-eyeing their compliments and wonderful advice to better yourself because it’s your own personal journey. You can skip chapters, you can read one line over and over. If you don’t like the advice, who cares? Certainly not the author, they probably have an awesome podcast to record right that second anyways. No seriously, there are so many self help podcasts out there too.

I think the stigma behind reading books focused on your own mental wellness needs to disappear. Everyone I know could use a little help. My dad, the most neurotypical guy in my family (not saying much) was in the car with me the other day and I swear to you I gasped because he was road raging so hard. Keep in mind that this man is used to all kinds of driving, has never been in an accident (aside from accidentally hitting my mom’s car in a parking lot when she unexpectedly braked on time) and is an all around good driver. Sure, he used to show signs of annoyance when a car would drive up the shoulder of a road to get 3 spots ahead in traffic (my most hated driving pet peeve, seriously don’t do that), but who doesn’t have those small things? The other day he was swearing up a storm, HONKING (unheard of in my family) and flipping off people who were trying to honestly drive the best they could in traffic. I tried to kind of joke around with him about him being a little out of line, because that’s how we talk about feelings, but it was when I really told him that this behaviour was gross and ‘not him’ that he opened up. The amount of stress and hardship that he and his wife are under right now feels like a bombardment on all sides. He’s trying to retire and his work isn’t prepping the way it should when they need to replace an Operations Manager. The kids are all fucked up. Every little thing feels like a knife and he doesn’t really have a way to release that… Queue the honking and the yelling.

Everyone has that. They have anger or sadness or confusion that they don’t know how to work out and god forbid they talk to a psychologist. The cost, let alone tge stigma in society keeps a lot of people away. Talking to someone in your family can only take you so far, especially when they themselves don’t know how to help you. Do you know how many times I’ve had friend’s open up to me, only for me to say ‘no, I feel exactly the same’ and then turning stare at them sadly as if to say, ‘what do we do now?’ We’re all in the same place. Know what can help? Reading about tools to make yourself better. Tiny tricks that come from a third party who is so enthusiastic about your bettering yourself with THEIR tiny tricks that they practically use 75 exclamation marks a chapter.The amount I have learned and reminded myself and internalized from these books and audio books and (sometimes stolen) kindle books is so important to me. With the help of self-help books (… what a sentence) and, I would say, a healthy dose of female authored autobiographies and essays, I have felt way more confident in my voice and my body in the past year. I would go so far to say that 2015 me would say that 2016 ain’t doing so bad, despite the unemployment. I’m vocalizing things like an adult – to other adults! For my own benefit. That’s huge.

I know self-help isn’t going to help everyone with every issue. I know that there’s a bunch of books that are a load of crap. I was just impressed that I could find five that actually looked like they were written in a way that was fun, not condescending and helpful. I don’t know, it’s just something to look into, guys. Not every book is ‘get happier in 30 days or less.’ Some just reflect on the nature of introverts and the power of using your own strengths for you. Not to make money, not to be guaranteed to be happier, but to live your life as a human. Maybe the real results is the journey along the way. (Sorry, I’ve been on tumblr for too long)

I want to mention that I also slipped in the autobiographies and essays written by females because I really felt as though it has provided me with a lot of perspective. I’m not alone. Tina Fey was a dork and Amy Poehler can’t sleep at night. Allie Brosh has depressive swings miles deep that can be fixed with corn under the fridge, and sometimes, Monica Heisey has more to say about food dips than any other topic. None of these things are bad. They make these ladies human. In the same way, my ridiculous little habits and crazy mental state makes me human and it’s good to remember that talented people like them aren’t so different from me. You know… aside from the acclaim and attention. It was news to me that not all autobiographies are about all the drinking and partying they did with models, is what I’m trying to get at. Not everyone snorted coke with Keith Richards. I mean, I assume a lot of people have, but not enough that the entire biographies section in your local bookstore would have that chapter featured, you get me?  My advice to you guys is to just find authors that appeal to something in you that maybe have some life experiences that you can relate to. I relate to funny women who write with a lot of wit and sarcasm. I also like politicians and young women who greatly influence the world’s perspective on something so difficult to discuss as education. Some people just want to relate to Keith Richards for some reason. Just check out that section, is what I’m saying. It’s not all bad… or biographies of dead American presidents.

So this was hopefully a primer for you on what’s to come. Who knows if it’s going to be another year before I post. I certainly do not. I hope you enjoyed what’s here already. Don’t forget to be awesome.

 

 

On being told ‘everything is temporary’…

Guys, this is going to be a fun rant. Just so you know, I mean ‘fun’ in a truly sarcastic way. I mean, I’m not going to say that you may not have a good chortle at my heightened distress over something so ridiculous, but I doubt you will. Maybe you’ll just feel pity; I’d be interested to know.

“Everything is temporary.” A lot of people have been telling me this for the past couple of years since graduating from university. My mother, father, best friends and sometimes friendly coworkers try to alleviate my distress by saying those three words (or a close variation thereof). I’m not going to say that this is a comprehensive list of reasons why I fucking hate that that statement, but I needed to get this out and it’s the best I could do.

The thing that I don’t think they seem to realize is that those words aren’t calming. Like, at all. Living in a state where everything is constantly a ‘temporary’ solution – jobs, living situations, transportation limitations, the ability to date, and social availability – is pretty much like living on a mountain ledge beneath a snow pile and waiting for the avalanche to smother you at any moment. It feels as if everything is about to crash around you and you’re constantly waiting for the shift in weather. Unemployment is a threat, you are always thinking about creative ways to kill your shitty roommates, and you’re pretty sure that leaving at 10:00 pm on a Friday night to catch the bus ride home is your date’s least favourite idea of a ‘good time.’ I still like to wave sleepily out the window from my seat on the bus as I drive away, because I’m not that great on dates anyway. Does this surprise you?

The issue is that you can slide so easily into speaking hyperbolically about these situations. Especially when you’ve been living in a transitory state for so long; that constant change becomes your lifestyle. Suddenly, you’re the person who never has a job, is living in one shitty situation to the next, doesn’t have a relationship, and cannot make time to come out. It’s the depression talking really and I should know that by now. Everything sucks. No one cares that you can’t hang out on the weekend because everyone has already forgotten you exist. You’ll never be able to get out of the shitty suburb you moved to (because it was cheaper) and affording a car is not going to happen. And finding a man you actually connect with? Not really in the cards, pal. It becomes an emotional trap, I think. The initial statement itself – everything is temporary – uses embellished language too. You get into the mindset of categorizing your thoughts into finite little boxes: everything or nothing. It’s such a negative path. I know that change can be invigorating and necessary, but I also think that everyone needs a little bit of security in their lives.

Everything being temporary has its own positive aspects of course: there’s no routine; you have the ability to learn new things, meet new people and you don’t necessarily need to settle. That’s what the people who love me really want me to focus on. Look how good I have it! Look how many skills I’m learning and how well I will know myself when I’ve finally found everything in life that I want! I’ll know what I can’t stand in relationships and in jobs. I’m so fortunate to not be stuck, to not have to be tied down to one place or person. That being said, it’s not an effective argument to me.

Money is such a limitation when you’re living in transition. Having a ‘temporary’ situation is all well and good if you’re financially stable and can move freely from place to place. Don’t like your living situation? It’s TEMPORARY. Fix it. Move. Don’t like your job? That’s fine, in a few months you’ll have time to find something you really like! It’s no problem! Having problems getting to the bus on time? Well, right now transit is an option for you, but you can save for a few months and then finance car. Find an alternative; there always is one. A fuckboi won’t leave you alone? Good thing he was only a temporary solution to your loneliness. You only had to deal with him for a few dates and away he goes. You can now avoid him at comic book conventions and shopping malls until your heart is content.

Aside from maybe the last example, money plays such a huge role in whether or not you can view your impermanent lifestyle as a choice or as a prison. You can’t leave a living situation when you don’t have first/last month’s rent for your new place. You can’t leave the city to find a new job that suits your career goals; who has the money for all those startup costs? How are you going to afford a car or a plane ticket or a new bike when you can barely afford your student loan? How can you get some savings together when you’re constantly looking for work (generally something entry level because who has time to build skills necessary for higher in contract work)? You can’t just go back to school to enhance your marketable skills or take time to do an internship; money restricts you from those options. Just like I said before – I always feel like I then have nothing. Everything is temporary and I’ll never have the things I want. It’s how my mind works; it’s fucked up, I know. That’s the wonders of my thought process.

Maybe it’s just problematic for me – an anxious young woman who’s never had a routine to hate – and then I’m just rambling for nothing. The true Canadian side of me is telling me to apologize to you for wasting your time. The thing that I want most (and what I’ve been saying in the majority of my job interviews for the past two years, for better or worse) is security. I want the feeling that I can go to a job where I am comfortable, with benefits and a future. I would like to date someone for a while and know that I don’t have to be afraid of letting myself fall in love with them, even just a little, because it could be a long term thing. I want the freedom of deciding my own schedule and not being restricted to when someone can pick me up or else having to struggle with the transit schedule. I want so many things. I just have to keep trucking through all these ‘temporary’ situations and I anticipate that I will find something permanent soon. I need to stop being so negative and try to block the part of my brain that sees everything in black and white. I need to take advantage of the opportunities that I am given and keep moving forward. And I guess that’s what’s really keeping me going: the hope that I’ll find my routine and everything will stop being so fucking temporary. Then I’ll probably be pissed off about that too. I’m pretty excited for that day.

Here’s a list of things I know aren’t temporary:

• the love I have for my family
• my hatred of cell phone companies and my brother’s sword collection
• my ability to produce a deadpan comment on command
• my attachment to books
• the inevitable heat death of the universe

That’s pretty much it.

It’s one in the morning and I can’t sleep because it feels like a chestburster from Alien is trying to emerge.

My life feels as if it’s about to fall apart. I know I’m being over dramatic, but I can’t help but freeze up in lieu of doing anything productive. Mindfulness breaths are not cutting it.

On being scared & talking to strangers

annairenel, DeviantArt

Hey everyone,

I want to start challenging myself more to accomplish something daily, Eleanor Roosevelt style. Too long have I stared at my to-do lists with a slight frown, noting at the end of the day that nothing was accomplished because I got stuck staring at cute illustrations on Tumblr. I mean, to avoid applying for new jobs and learning French, I have started reading fan fiction again for the first time in about 10 years. When I don’t want to go to the gym (a to-do list staple), I reason with myself that my dog deserves my attention and I should go for a walk with her instead; I end up staring at her from my bed while I shovel another spoonful of Nutella into my mouth. I am that person. I am the girl who complains that nothing is happening in her life, but proceeds to do nothing to fix that. I sit and stare at my many many lists of lofty dreams and achievable goals and refuse to budge on any of them. I am so tired of being that person. I’m sure many people who read this feel the same way. Life is passing you by, and you want to jump in and prove yourself by accomplishing something big (or small, who cares at this point), but instead you stand by the shore and just keep warily eyeing the current. Is that a mixed metaphor?

Last night, I decided to be an adult – kind of – and make a phone call to the volunteer coordinator of a project I was kind of interested in working on. He had emailed me the day before, saying that we should talk on the phone and figure out exactly how I could help catalogue thousands of animation cells and movie memorabilia that he was planning on selling off for the benefit of a national health organization. I maturely put the call off for one day because I hate phone calls, and the idea of having a spontaneous interview for a volunteer position scared me a bit. It sounded like something that could give me a foundational knowledge of classification and, at the very least, something to say in a job interview when they asked for ‘archival experience’. It was a long shot, but hey, helping someone put some movie posters from his garage up for sale might just be a good jumping point.

When I called, I was expecting a semi-old, semi-senile old man who wanted to gather his belongings up and maybe sell them for a few hundred dollars. What I got instead was an animation instructor from a local art school who had lent his collection out for exhibitions, and once for a party at Disney, who was going to produce an art sale and donate thousands to a really good cause. I was immediately intimidated, so much so that I accidentally told him I was having ‘a fan girl moment’. How embarrassing. He was so gracious and helpful and positive; ultimately, he said that he wanted to find a place for me in the project where I could learn something. There were other volunteers working, and he maybe wanted to expand the project past the simple task of cataloguing his thousands of items. It was not the interview, nor the offer I was expecting. Suddenly, I had this established person in the art world who maybe wants to help me figure out how to gain actual useful professional experience. Too good to be true? Anyways, it all ended with a promise to call him next week to set up a face-to-face meeting to discuss potential projects and time management. Again, I like putting things off; this time I used Easter as an excuse.

When I hung up, panic set in. It was- and still is – something that makes my anxiety just soar to its highest heights. Firstly, appointments with figures of authority make me feel like I am going in to be judged. I also have a problem doing anything in the art world (the freaking field I want to get into) because I am intimidated and insecure about my own education. Did I actually learn enough to pass? Or did I just sit in my apartment crying for four years – I really can’t tell anymore. What if I say something stupid to him and he realizes that his initial offer to help me out was wasted? The man set up an exhibition for Disney. DISNEY. Let’s add the fact that meeting people and making first impressions is like putting 10,000 needles in my eye at once. It’s not a pleasant thing. I over think, I look stoic and off putting, or I go so far as acting supremely fake in an effort to make things right between me and the poor person who is forced to be in my company. This isn’t just with authority figures, it’s with anyone. Those ‘other volunteers’ that I’ll be working with? I will probably freak them out with my silence and Wednesday Adams glares within an hour. This is especially true for boys. Never have I been more anxious when I have to talk to a guy my age about anything. This is most likely why I never have had a boyfriend and no one has ever expressed the least bit of interest in me. I’m off topic…

It’s true that maybe this opportunity is too good to be true and the guy is not as impressive as I’m thinking he is. The worst that can happen is that he and the other volunteers ask me to stop willingly giving my free time up to sorting old drawings and collectibles. Still, my heart won’t stop beating when I think about it. It now seems less of a good networking prospect and more of a terrifying opportunity for failure. I know that I need to be like Eleanor and do something that scares me. That was the point of this post, after all. It may not be exactly what she was talking about, but I need to get through the small steps before I move on to bigger things. I want to start being a person who dives in and loves her life. No more sitting out.

Yes I may fail, but no matter what I will grow a bit too. Maybe it’s worth it. I’m going to be spending my Easter long weekend reading social anxiety coping guides and articles that list ways that I can impress people.

I’ll update you all on the happenings later. Don’t forget to be awesome.