Under the Bridge

"Sometimes I feel like I don't have a partner;
Sometimes I feel like my only friend
Is the page that I write on, the page holds my feelings,
Lonely as I am, together we cry."

So, the Red Hot Chilli Peppers spoke some words I can relate to, even if they were talking about drug use and I had to adapt it a little to my own situation with a lyrical tweak or two.

Most of the day I had been feeling okay. I mean, I wasn't bursting with joy, but I was fairly content and felt able to get on through the day, even if I didn't feel much like talking. I had lunch with Samson and felt happy in his company, the way I always do, but when hometime rolled around, all of a sudden I was feeling a little irate and uncomfortable and discontent, feeling the need to both lash out and be alone. I didn't feel much like being affectionate with Samson as we walked to the station and I felt awkward. It wasn't even because I didn't want to hold his hand or be close to him. I felt the opposite, in fact. But still, at random times, I seem to have an emotional conflict between how I feel versus what I know, or have known. I almost want to reject him because I feel vulnerable and don't want to go with my need to feel close to him and thus risk rejection. I wish I didn't still feel this way, even if it is only intermittent. I wish I didn't have erratic moods, which seem to swing from silent to over-excited and blissful to sullen in a matter of hours. I particularly dislike the fact that it seems to happen most when I am alone, when I am left to brood and my mind is free to wander over all the harsh and desolate landscapes it has ever foolishly stumbled across. I really want my mind to be free; I need to cut the ties that link innocent thoughts to bad experiences. Samson has said that he knows he can't erase all of my bad memories or difficult experiences, but he wants to give me new, happier memories, that will somehow make the others fade away, into the background at least, or to lessen their effect. He is a sweetheart for wanting to, but I am still somewhat wary of letting him.

I know there is no shame in relying on other people when you need support, or of needing people emotionally and valuing the presence of such relationships in one's life. But since I realised I was depressed, I have sometimes felt helpless and have felt myself wanting to resist against the necessity of relying on others. I don't enjoy feeling like I am a burden on anyone else emotionally, I don't like the fact that I can't always just handle the emotions myself, I don't like feeling emotionally weak and I don't like the sense of dependence that comes with it. I suppose I have the streak of stubborn independence that seemingly runs in my family. But also, I remember the feeling of being in a dependent relationship and how unhealthy it was, even though it was completely dissimilar to both the dynamic I have with Samson and the condition in which I now find myself. I also remember the feeling of having someone who allowed me to depend on them, who encouraged me to, who said they wanted to be there for me, but whose promises were empty in practice. I remember the feeling of thinking I had finally found someone I could rely on, someone who understood me, someone who was emotionally intuitive, someone who could relate to some of my previous experiences and didn't want to repeat them. I remember allowing myself to open up completely, to be free and profound with my emotions, only to be left in what felt like the emotional equivalent of being naked and lost in the middle of nowhere. Hmm, when I put it like this, I'm not surprised I have problems with allowing myself to get as close to and as trusting with Samson as I genuinely want to.

I am not purposely holding back and I am not playing games to avoid getting hurt. For the most part, things just flow, we just take each day at a time and enjoy each other's company. But the fear comes at intervals, often creeping into my subconscious until I am feeling the desire to back away without knowing what has triggered it. After Samson saw me onto the train, I rushed to get home. I spoke to Big Sis when I got in and we ate dinner together with Bro-in-Law, before watching some perfect trash telly to distract us. But when I left to go to my room, the empty, lonely feeling came back and I felt very alone. I didn't feel like I had anyone to talk to, even though I know that is untrue. I wanted some reassurance from Samson, but still feel stupid having to ask for his attention, even though he would probably never see it that way. I think my bad experiences with NY Guy's regular lack of response or difficulty to get hold of have given me an aversion to having to initiate contact in any way. I still find it hard to reach out, even when I really need to, even to my friends and family. I sat here for a while, feeling extremely lonely and rather sad, exacerbated by the fact that I didn't feel able to call or text anyone to talk about it. It's not even because I don't have anyone to talk to, because I know I do, but I find it hard to admit needing someone to talk to and not being able to handle things myself. I am used to being there for others and trying to be supportive and comforting and a good listener. But I've realised I don't find it at all easy allowing someone to do that for me. At the time, it helps to talk to someone, but afterwards sometimes, I feel silly, exposed and vulnerable.

For a while, I just sat there, pondering what to do to make myself feel better and feeling helpless. I felt bored with life, wanting to just switch off for a while and not have to deal with the lonely feeling. Then, for the first time in several weeks, I really wanted to write a blog. I haven't had the same need or desire to write lately, but I suddenly remembered that need for an outlet, for catharsis on my own terms, in my own time, in a way that I can both control and release, with the option of sharing it or not. The page helps me to make sense of things, to collate, compose and examine my thoughts, laying the fragmented pieces out in a single place so that I can get a little distance and start to see the picture they form from afar. I have always been better at writing, at expressing myself in prose rather than the spoken word. But then, I think I have also always been better at feeling and thinking rather than doing and I think that's part of my problem. I am trying to get better at expressing, at speaking, at sharing, at doing, at living. I need my words to start jumping off the page and becoming reality. But at least I know that if no-one else, I always have the page.

The Panic Machine

So, the panic machine continues. I am starting to feel more and more strongly for Samson, which mostly delights me, but sometimes terrifies me. Usually I feel content and happy about things with him; I am not engaging in over-analysis or feeling uncertain all the time, like I often did with past situations (hello, NY Guy?). But now and then, with somewhat increasing frequency, I keep having momentary emotional panic attacks, where I suddenly realise how attached I am getting to him and then remember just how emotionally vulnerable such attachments have previously left me. I definitely wear my heart on my sleeve and I do have slight reservations based on bad experiences, but even with a cynicism-induced delay on my feelings, I still fall hard and fast once I eventually give in. I can feel it happening now and for the first time, I am actually really quite scared, to the point of upset at times. It is an intermittent feeling that is not ever-present, but when it is there, it is raw. Occasionally I can feel the fear of rejection and the memory of painful emotions building up inside, until I want to withdraw and just say, “OK, this was nice while it lasted, there was some lovely potential there, but you will change your mind eventually and I don’t want to have fallen completely in love with you when that happens. So, I’ll just get out now while my heart is still somewhat intact, so I won’t have to salvage the fragments of it that are left from the wreckage that will remain when you decide you don’t want it anymore. Bye then!”

I feel stupid being so consumed by this fear, especially since the effect of it would negatively impact my situation with Samson, even though it is based entirely on the actions of people other than him. Occasionally I will be indirectly reminded of something that The Ex, NY Guy or BFTP did and I feel angry and hurt and feel the need to barricade myself in an emotional fortress, where I remain cynical and closed-off and unavailable. I still get the occasional panic when I walk down the street to my house and see a car parked in the spot The Ex used, or a car driving towards me, feeling the horrible sense of anxiety that he has turned up to bother me again. Sometimes when I feel the need to talk to Samson, perhaps if I am feeling low, I am reminded of the many times I tried to do this with NY Guy and couldn’t get through to him, or he didn’t have time for me, or he brushed me off with some sort of generic statement to fob me off or an excuse to justify his lack of support. It makes me feel reluctant to contact Samson or to open up to him at times, because I can’t bear to feel that horrible prolonged sense of rejection and disappointment again. Occasionally, when I am feeling close to him and happy about how much he is starting to mean to me, I’ll remember how uplifted I felt when I got back in contact with BFTP and how close we became because we opened up to each other emotionally to a profound level. I remember how much I let my guard down and allowed myself to trust in what he said, only to again be left hanging without any explanation, apology or acknowledgement. Suddenly, feeling closer to Samson doesn’t feel quite so comforting and I panic that I am oblivious to warning signs or am letting my guard down again without thought. I worry that I haven’t learned my lesson, that I am foolish to allow myself to get close to someone again, to allow them to get to know my heart and for me to give it to them in the process, not fully realising that is happening until it is too late. It upsets me that I feel this way. I hate that the people who never loved me in the way I needed, who didn’t treat me in the way I deserved or respect me enough to be truthful instead of cowardly, have warped my thinking and dislodged my trust to the point where I am fearful to truly be myself. I occasionally feel myself playing down my feelings or disguising them, or pretending to be unaffected by things that I am actually sensitive to. So what if Samson rejects me or breaks my heart? If I put enough barriers up, he wouldn’t have known the real me anyway, so it doesn’t count as a proper rejection. Heartbreak really mucks up your thinking.

It’s at times like this that I also wonder how on earth I am going to pull myself out of this period of depression, where medication feels necessary just to keep me from falling apart. The pressure I have started to put on myself to get better isn’t helping and I know it, but I can’t bear the thought of feeling unstable for another year. I hate that I sometimes feel like I have made lots of progress and then the familiar fears and insecurities pop up and make me feel that I have been taken right back to the beginning. I hadn’t felt the need to write for a while. Actually, that’s not quite true. I hadn’t felt able to write, or at least hadn’t felt that my mind was clear enough to express how I felt, if I could even make sense of it at all. But the recurrence of these fears and anxieties is something that I need to get out of my system and not something that would be healthy to harbour or leave unexpressed. I am still wary to a small degree of telling Samson about every time these insecurities surface, partly because I don’t want to repel him or give him any (more?) reason to change his mind, but also because I have learned that with sharing one’s inner thoughts there needs to be a happy medium. I went for so long feeling that I had to withhold my emotions, that when I started trying to get better at expressing them, for a while I felt like I had to do so with every single little alteration in mood or mindset. I’ve realised that there is a huge difference between being selective with what information to share and with actively withholding or being dishonest about things. I don’t need to tell someone every single tiny insecurity that pops into my head, especially when quite often the next day (or the same day) that feeling has completely subsided. I am learning to deduce the emotions I should share and those that I should work on alone. At times, it feels lonely dealing with certain things inside my own head without an alternative perspective, knowing that advice or reassurance from anyone else will make no difference if I can’t change my own thinking for myself. But it’s preferable to the greater sense of loneliness I feel when I’ve shared such difficulties and they were not received positively. I know that much from experience.

I'm With Samson, But I'm No Delilah

So, me and Samson are officially a couple, with an anniversary and everything (he asked for clarification on that, I was pleasantly surprised that he was even bothered about that kind of thing, lol). We've been spending just the right amount of time together: enough to get to know each other better, share enough of each other's company and feel like a proper couple, but with just enough time apart that we miss each other and are left wanting more time together whenever we part. I think it helps in a weird way that we work together. Well, we don't really work together as such, but are in the same department. I like that I see him every day, even if it's just seeing him walk past, bumping into each other in the kitchen, spending lunchtime together or just walking together to the tube station on the way home. We've spent the past few weekends together, me going to his after being at the rents' and us having chilled-out Saturday nights and lazy Sundays together. We don't do anything particularly, just enjoy each other's company, have dinner, watch films, chill with his housemates, go out for drinks, have breakfast in bed, watch football, drink tea....it's perfect. We seem to be very similar in terms of our body clocks, that is, when we go to bed and get up is fairly attuned to each other (I'm a bit of a night owl and like a good lie in and he's not dissimilar) and we both seem to be homebodies.

I am totally playing things down most of the time. Even The Mrs told me that I was being cagey about things and not giving much away. It's not even intentional. I think for the first time, I am experiencing something real, that is equal parts breath-taking and completely grounded and rational. I'm not caught up in an excess of words that someone thinks I want to hear and that I want to believe. For the first time, the words are not the basis and substance of the relationship. The words are now only a lovely addition to reinforce what he actually does. He does tell me he cares about me and that I mean a lot to him. But he also says that he wants to show me how much he cares about me and how much I mean to him. And then he does it. It's not big things, in the way that some people would consider big, but to me they are the little gestures of big importance. He walks me to the train station. He makes me breakfast in bed. He buys mango juice or coke or something else he knows I like when he knows I am coming over. He always checks that I am feeling okay. He makes me tea. He holds me close when we walk together. He has lovely manners. He cheers me up by being silly and making me laugh, both when he knows I'm feeling a bit low and even when he doesn't. He has various nicknames for me that he seems to select at random (at least twenty and counting). He doesn't play mind games. He is kind-hearted. He is witty and very funny. He is a person of strong principles but he never comes across as judgemental. He doesn't like to argue; he's a lover not a fighter. He is extremely considerate. He is open about his feelings, but doesn't say anything just for the sake of it. He is patient. He doesn't criticise. He is infinitely positive and sees the bright side of everything. He is trustworthy and reliable. He is great company. He has a generous spirit. He is understanding about my depression. He sings random songs and has a song for everything. He isn't insecure and defensive, nor is he arrogant and cocky. He makes me feel safe, comfortable and that I can be myself around him. He likes me for who I am. He is an utter sweetheart. I could go on...

Basically, he seems to be a lovely, genuine person and I really enjoy his company. For a change, I am in a relationship where I am not being told about all the things the person wants to do for me in the future or where the relationship is going to go, while the here and now is completely neglected. There is only so much I can care about the fact that you're convinced you're going to marry me some day, when you can't even text me to let me know you're thinking about me today. You know? It's the little gestures that are important to me, consistency in the day-to-day things. Actually doing tangible things in the here and now, rather than telling me about the things you are going to do some day. It's taken me a while to realise how important that is to me, partly because in the past I wanted to believe the things I was told so much that I hung on for so long hoping they would materialise. Now and then, I still get bouts of insecurity. I have mini panics when I think about how Samson is meaning more and more to me as time goes on and that how whenever I have started to care about someone in a similar way before, they have always let me down or disappeared on me. The silly thing is that he gives me no reason whatsoever to think that he would do the same. If I'm completely honest with myself, the signs that things might not have been quite right were there in my previous experiences. I may not have perceived them at the time, I may have subconsciously chosen to ignore them, but they were there all the same, however tiny an indication they may have been. But this time round, I do genuinely feel safe and content. More than that, I feel that the timing and the situation is right. Most importantly, the person seems right.

This is probably the deepest I have thought about this, because to be honest, I didn't want to get caught up in over-analysing, in second-guessing, in comparisons, or in letting my thoughts and emotions run away with me. I've just been trying to enjoy the present, enjoy each moment we spend together as it happens, not continuously having to look forward to something good in the future, or having to remember good times past. I have been living each day as it happens and there is no-one else I would rather be doing that in the company of. Unlike the Biblical Delilah, I have no desire to take anything away from my Samson and I certainly don't want to diminish him in any way. I only want good things for him and I hope I can play a part in making that happen. I think he's fantastic.

Me, Moods, Mental Health, Meds and Mothers

I didn't manage to book an appointment with my doctor in time to review my meds, and was late submitting a prescription request, so ran out of supplies and had a week without them. I managed to speak to my doctor on the phone and discussed the prospect of coming off them, which she advised would need to initiated by a positive decision to do so by me. In any case, it is always advised to do so gradually. I didn't feel completely ready to do this yet, as I hadn't prepared myself mentally to do so, but thought I would continue for another couple of months and then consider lessening the frequency of my dose and then coming off them altogether. In the meantime, I had been without any meds for a week and my body had gone into withdrawal, feeling drained, low and a little unsettled. Thankfully, when I started on them again, things improved quite quickly and mercifully I didn't have the problems with my appetite that I did when I first started, probably because I still had some residual meds in my system, so my body didn't have such an extreme reaction this time.

My planned decision to wean myself off them is a good one for me I think, partly because it gives me an objective to aim towards, is a positive decision in my power to improve my own life and state of mind and also means that it is a definitive course of action, much like deciding to start taking the medication was for me in the first place. However, things still aren't all rosy and perfect, but I knew they wouldn't be. I still have periods of low mood, I still find it draining being in social situations with people for prolonged periods and I still find myself having bouts of insecurity or irrational upset and so forth. But the difference now is that I am aware of this and feel better able to cope when these things happen. I knew the meds weren't a magic wand and I never intended them to be either a quick fix or a long-term crutch. I just needed them to enable me to function normally in my day-to-day activities so that I would be better able to focus my energy on getting better. I definitely feel like I'm getting there. Speaking to Lolly recently about some of her own experiences that I relate to, I was reminded of how I felt at my lowest point and was encouraged when I realised I was looking back because I have made progress since then. I don't usually feel like I have done, but when I remember just how difficult the simplest things were and how low I felt, I am so grateful to know that things have got better since then. Hopefully soon I'll be able to look back at this point and be encouraged by how far I've moved on from here.

When I wrote about the time I went out before Christmas, when things first happened with me and Samson, I didn't actually mention the fact that I neglected to let the 'rents know I would be late home that night. Being a Friday evening, on which I wouldn't normally go out, I would usually head to the rents' house for dinner and stay the night there so that we could go to church together in the morning. It was unusual for me to be out, but I had never intended to stay out so late, so hadn't called to tell them where I was. As the evening wore on, I then felt unable to call, partly because it was so late and partly because I had been drinking and thought they'd probably be able to tell and wouldn't approve. I don't know why I still feel so awkward with being honest with them about certain things and making my own decisions, when I'm an adult. But it's weird, they've always been so protective and at times I feel a tiny bit stifled, both by their protection and my own perception of their expectations of me. Anyway, I completely forgot to check my phone and when I finally did, it was about 11.00pm and I had several missed calls and texts. Bis Sis had texted me to say that Mum and Dad were really worried and where was I, because they were thinking of calling the police because they hadn't heard from me. She had then apparently texted half of my contacts in my old phone to ask if I was with them, so there were texts from Lolly, The Mrs and Miss T. I called Big Sis and told her I was out, asking her to please let Mum and Dad know I was okay and safe and that I would be round the next day. Big Sis unhelpfully told me I had to speak to them myself. In the end, I didn't call them but I think she let them know. The next day, she made a fuss about being unimpressed with me and saying that I had a lot of apologising to do. I felt bad, but at the time I had just wanted to get away and not feel like I had to answer to anyone. It was an odd feeling and I also felt slightly averse to the fact that Big Sis was now trying to act more like my mother than Mum was doing. When I got to the rents' the next day, I felt awful and was going to talk to Mum about how I was feeling, but she simply gave me a hug, told me that all I needed to do was to call them and let them know if I wasn't coming over because Dad worries, and then said that we should just forget about it. It's bizarre, because my parents, particularly my Mum, were very strict and protective when we were growing up, I still have the expectation that she will react in the same way she might have done back then. It's hard trying to adjust to the new dynamic, in which Mum apparently seems to view me as an adult, but I'm not always completely sure that she really does.

Anyway, after this last time of not turning up on a Friday evening and after the low mood I was experiencing, I knew that my parents might be worrying about my seemingly unusual behaviour and wondering if something was wrong. I had texted my Mum to tell her I would be there the next day, but since she only has a mobile for work and she has been off work for while, I wasn't sure if she'd actually get it. When my plan B to go there in the morning didn't work out either, I still didn't call them to explain. I knew that it was probably time to have a talk to my Mum and tell her about my period of depression. Big Sis kept asking me if I'd called the 'rents and telling me that I "really should" each time I told her that I still hadn't. Being constantly reminded didn't help. A few days later, I eventually got enough time and mental energy together to put everything in an email to my Mum, explaining that I have been depressed for over a year and that I have been taking medication for it. I explained that while it had mostly helped, I still have low patches and still find it draining and difficult to be around people for long periods of time. I told her that it has had an impact on me spiritually, in that I have felt discouraged and found it harder than usual to pray regularly and so forth. I ended by saying that things were improving, but that I might need some time and space to deal with things my own way at times. I clicked 'send' and awaited a response. A couple of days later, I got an email from Mum saying that she was pleased that I could be honest with her about how I was feeling and that she was looking forward to seeing me that Friday so that we could talk. I felt reassured and relieved. I don't think I was expecting a negative response at all, but I suppose I subconsciously prepared myself for it, just in case.

That Friday, I left work with Samson and he took me for a quick drink and a cake between the two of us for a quick chat. I like that we spend time together like that, even if it's just for an hour, to talk and enjoy each other's company away from work and observant eyes. I was feeling a bit low and a little apprehensive, but he perked me up and made me feel better about facing things. Afterwards, I went to my parents' for dinner. Mum gave me a big hug and we ate dinner together with Dad, with her just reiterating that if I wasn't going to come over that I should just let them know, it was no big deal, they just didn't want to be left hanging if they were expecting me as usual and I didn't turn up. It was such a silly thing, but I had felt incapable of doing it on those two occasions. I expected that we might talk that evening after eating, but Mum didn't really mention anything and in the end I felt too drained to really talk and ended up getting an early night. The next day, after church, we had lunch together at home, including Big Sis. A discussion arose about depression and various things and Big Sis and Mum were getting quite heated in their respective viewpoints. After a while, I couldn't tolerate it any more, feeling like it was draining me, was giving me a negative vibe and wasn't really helping my frame of mind. I retreated upstairs, feeling the need for some quiet and thinking I might just take a nap. A little later, Mum came up and had a chat to me, explaining her reaction to some of the things Big Sis was saying and asking me how I was. We talked a little, but I felt almost too tired to really string a proper sentence together and express how I felt. She told me that she wanted me to be honest with her and to be able to talk to her about what I was going through. She encouraged me and talked about some of her own experiences, reminding me to just hold on to my faith no matter what. I felt bad that I wasn't particularly vocal, but I felt a lot better for her having spoken to me. I was definitely glad that I had told her, even if I hadn't really gone into detail about the various factors that I think have contributed to my depression. To be honest, just having her know was relief enough.

Month In Review

I've been finding it hard to write lately. It's definitely easier to write when dealing with negative emotions or difficult circumstances. Ironically, I used to feel reluctant to post at times when I was having a particularly low patch, just because I didn't like how negative I sounded all the time and wondered why on earth anyone would want to read it. Lately, although I've still been having a difficult time in some ways, I have found someone lovely to distract me and lift me out of my low moods, which makes all the difference. I've found that although I've still felt I should write, I've not had as much time, simply because I've been living life a little, rather than just contemplating it or writing about it. I've tried to continue moving beyond the past, to not let it negatively impact my decision-making, make me reluctant to take chances, to trust people or prevent me from enjoying a good thing for fear that it will inevitably become bad. I've found that when I've tried to sit down and write something, I either don't know where to start because so many things have happened, or I don't have the energy to write because I've so been busy otherwise. It's been a nice change just doing rather than thinking, being involved in action rather than deep in thought.

There have been lots of lovely little happenings over the past month, so rather than trying to remember and relay every detail or each day, I thought I'd summarise the main things that have happened in separate posts.