Confession.
Why is it that when you try to go to bed early you can never sleep straight away?
The truth is I really need to sleep. I keep going to bed late. Not massively late, but late enough to cause me problems. I wake up early - I have never quite mastered the concept of a lie-in. So it's destructive. It's not a conscious decision but I am pretty sure I subconsciously choose to do it.
Anyway, I'm awake now. Typing away.
This is my confession.
Not that anyone will necessarily read it.
But if you do it's nice to know that I am a real person with real problems. I'm happy with that knowledge.
I struggle with anxiety and, as a result, I sometimes feel really stressed and nervous and I worry about everything. This often results in me feeling down. At this point I can get more stressed and I sometimes isolate myself. I have often struggled with self-worth and I tend to blame myself for everything, from the small things that are irrelevant to the larger things that are not. I recognise that they are not really my fault and I am not an inherently rubbish individual - in fact, I know that I am wonderfully made and sincerely loved. It's weird that these two realities can coexist. But they do. And consequently, a lot of the time I feel low.
Anyway, last year I was reading a book that talked about anxiety and depression and at one point it was talking about how there are certain things that scientists think help people in these situations. They can't be sure, but there's definitely a correlation. Two things listed stuck out to me - healthy diet & exercise. I was pretty much not doing anything physical and one of the things I do when I'm anxious is eat really rubbish food. I like sweets. I like chocolate. Anyway, I knew things needed to change.
In January I started playing football with some people that I didn't know that well, but it was fun. It was just once a week on a Saturday morning. I also made a conscious effort to eat more healthily. I bought a lot more fruit. That kind of thing. It was going well. I also did a bit of running around the park but that was a bit boring.
Over Easter I went away with my family and got to spend time with my cousins. Inspired by one of my brothers and my uncle I realised I wanted to start doing some running. But not the boring running around the park - no, I would run in the Peak District and it would be beautiful. One of my favourite things to do is walk. I love going on walks. I really do. I also like running and skipping and jumping on rocks, so it felt like I was putting the two together.
So I took a risk. When I got home I researched it. I had been particularly sad over the holiday so this was a breakthrough. I was actually doing something productive. I was taking a risk. I was doing something with my life. I looked it up on the internet and I asked people and then I went to the shop and I bought some running shoes and I bought a top.
It was great.
And then I went for a run.
And I loved it.
It was just good to do something.
You know?
I can't describe the feeling.
But I enjoyed it. It brought me life. There are not many things that do. But this did. It felt good. I watched myself get fasted over the few weeks. Finally I was doing something productive, something physical, something fruitful. I had purpose, even if it was just for the 30 - 60 minute that I could run. I did this for about four or five weeks. Only once or twice a week. But it was good.
But then I had an incident with a rabbit hole. Weekend away. Playing touch rugby. Badly twisted my left ankle. Massive swelling. Could hardly walk.
That was Saturday May 4th 2013.
Today is Sunday June 16th 2013.
My left ankle is still in pain. I still struggle to walk. There's a lump at the front. I can't put too much pressure on the leg. I can't walk too far without it swelling. I can't even sit cross-legged because of where some of the damage is. And I definitely can't run.
And I know that's the smallest of things, but it's messed me up. As I said, I don't do many things that bring life to me, but I enjoyed that for those few weeks. And now I can't do that. I know that sounds stupid, but I have found that hard.
And here's the confession bit - since then I've eaten absolutely rubbish. All the healthy eating has gone out the window. Sometimes, if no one has arranged anything, I can happily sit in the house all day, staring at this laptop screen, wasting away. Today, I didn't have any physical contact with anyone until I went to church in the evening. I just sat here. Yesterday I ate three muffins, a bag of popcorn, a bag of sweets, half a bag of Minstrels, two oranges (it's not all bad!), a plate of curly fries and some breaded fish.
No wonder I feel rubbish.
I just needed to get that out there.
I just wish it was better and I could kick a football or something.
I know it's partly my fault. I should have gone to the doctor's sooner. I'm sure there are a lot of things I could have done. But it's hard. The anxiety, the fear, the stress... it's so hard for me to book an appointment with a doctor. I know that might seem like the weirdest, stupidest thing you've read in this weird ramble, but it's true. The simplest tasks become overwhelming.
That's why a small victory like finding something enjoyable was a good victory.
And maybe I put my identity in that running for those four weeks.
Maybe that was bad.
But it's just rubbish and it's hard that I'm sat here and it's now 11pm and days like yesterday happen where I genuinely don't have any reason to get out of bed in the morning so I wake up, usually too early, and just stay there and watch the hours past as I browse the Internet finding out information about the new Kanye West album (even though I probably won't like it that much and even though, when all is said and done, I really don't care that much) and I keep going backwards and forwards on Twitter or Facebook or BBC News or whatever just in case something has happened.
So that what's going on.
It's ok.
I have good days.
I smile a lot.
I laugh some days too.
In fact, when I'm around people life feels worth living.
But often I just feel like I lack any purpose.
Those are the days that I stay in bed. Awake, breathing, but not living.
I want to change.
I really do.
Maybe I will this week.
Or maybe I won't.
Sometimes it feels as though every thing I enjoy doing gets taken away.
That's probably a lie but it's easy to believe lies when you don't care much about yourself.
I have grown lots this year. I must add that. It's not all doom and gloom. As I said, I am dearly and beautifully and wonderfully and incredibly loved. I don't forget that. I try and remember it and I try and let it sink into my heart. I am blessed by so many friends. And there's breakthrough which I celebrate - for example, I went from May 2012 until May 2013 without struggling to breathe through anxiety! That's amazing for me!
But at the moment it's hard.
Stupid ankle being a catalyst! I do wish it would get better quicker.
I just needed to say all the things that I'm doing that are not healthy. It's often hard to communicate how I'm feeling. How do you say all of this without people getting confused or my eyes watering or a nagging feeling of worthless choking my heart. So that's the story - this is the confession. This is what I'm going through at the moment.
If you read this, thank you.
It felt good to sit and type. Release.
The truth is I really need to sleep. I keep going to bed late. Not massively late, but late enough to cause me problems. I wake up early - I have never quite mastered the concept of a lie-in. So it's destructive. It's not a conscious decision but I am pretty sure I subconsciously choose to do it.
Anyway, I'm awake now. Typing away.
This is my confession.
Not that anyone will necessarily read it.
But if you do it's nice to know that I am a real person with real problems. I'm happy with that knowledge.
I struggle with anxiety and, as a result, I sometimes feel really stressed and nervous and I worry about everything. This often results in me feeling down. At this point I can get more stressed and I sometimes isolate myself. I have often struggled with self-worth and I tend to blame myself for everything, from the small things that are irrelevant to the larger things that are not. I recognise that they are not really my fault and I am not an inherently rubbish individual - in fact, I know that I am wonderfully made and sincerely loved. It's weird that these two realities can coexist. But they do. And consequently, a lot of the time I feel low.
Anyway, last year I was reading a book that talked about anxiety and depression and at one point it was talking about how there are certain things that scientists think help people in these situations. They can't be sure, but there's definitely a correlation. Two things listed stuck out to me - healthy diet & exercise. I was pretty much not doing anything physical and one of the things I do when I'm anxious is eat really rubbish food. I like sweets. I like chocolate. Anyway, I knew things needed to change.
In January I started playing football with some people that I didn't know that well, but it was fun. It was just once a week on a Saturday morning. I also made a conscious effort to eat more healthily. I bought a lot more fruit. That kind of thing. It was going well. I also did a bit of running around the park but that was a bit boring.
Over Easter I went away with my family and got to spend time with my cousins. Inspired by one of my brothers and my uncle I realised I wanted to start doing some running. But not the boring running around the park - no, I would run in the Peak District and it would be beautiful. One of my favourite things to do is walk. I love going on walks. I really do. I also like running and skipping and jumping on rocks, so it felt like I was putting the two together.
So I took a risk. When I got home I researched it. I had been particularly sad over the holiday so this was a breakthrough. I was actually doing something productive. I was taking a risk. I was doing something with my life. I looked it up on the internet and I asked people and then I went to the shop and I bought some running shoes and I bought a top.
It was great.
And then I went for a run.
And I loved it.
It was just good to do something.
You know?
I can't describe the feeling.
But I enjoyed it. It brought me life. There are not many things that do. But this did. It felt good. I watched myself get fasted over the few weeks. Finally I was doing something productive, something physical, something fruitful. I had purpose, even if it was just for the 30 - 60 minute that I could run. I did this for about four or five weeks. Only once or twice a week. But it was good.
But then I had an incident with a rabbit hole. Weekend away. Playing touch rugby. Badly twisted my left ankle. Massive swelling. Could hardly walk.
That was Saturday May 4th 2013.
Today is Sunday June 16th 2013.
My left ankle is still in pain. I still struggle to walk. There's a lump at the front. I can't put too much pressure on the leg. I can't walk too far without it swelling. I can't even sit cross-legged because of where some of the damage is. And I definitely can't run.
And I know that's the smallest of things, but it's messed me up. As I said, I don't do many things that bring life to me, but I enjoyed that for those few weeks. And now I can't do that. I know that sounds stupid, but I have found that hard.
And here's the confession bit - since then I've eaten absolutely rubbish. All the healthy eating has gone out the window. Sometimes, if no one has arranged anything, I can happily sit in the house all day, staring at this laptop screen, wasting away. Today, I didn't have any physical contact with anyone until I went to church in the evening. I just sat here. Yesterday I ate three muffins, a bag of popcorn, a bag of sweets, half a bag of Minstrels, two oranges (it's not all bad!), a plate of curly fries and some breaded fish.
No wonder I feel rubbish.
I just needed to get that out there.
I just wish it was better and I could kick a football or something.
I know it's partly my fault. I should have gone to the doctor's sooner. I'm sure there are a lot of things I could have done. But it's hard. The anxiety, the fear, the stress... it's so hard for me to book an appointment with a doctor. I know that might seem like the weirdest, stupidest thing you've read in this weird ramble, but it's true. The simplest tasks become overwhelming.
That's why a small victory like finding something enjoyable was a good victory.
And maybe I put my identity in that running for those four weeks.
Maybe that was bad.
But it's just rubbish and it's hard that I'm sat here and it's now 11pm and days like yesterday happen where I genuinely don't have any reason to get out of bed in the morning so I wake up, usually too early, and just stay there and watch the hours past as I browse the Internet finding out information about the new Kanye West album (even though I probably won't like it that much and even though, when all is said and done, I really don't care that much) and I keep going backwards and forwards on Twitter or Facebook or BBC News or whatever just in case something has happened.
So that what's going on.
It's ok.
I have good days.
I smile a lot.
I laugh some days too.
In fact, when I'm around people life feels worth living.
But often I just feel like I lack any purpose.
Those are the days that I stay in bed. Awake, breathing, but not living.
I want to change.
I really do.
Maybe I will this week.
Or maybe I won't.
Sometimes it feels as though every thing I enjoy doing gets taken away.
That's probably a lie but it's easy to believe lies when you don't care much about yourself.
I have grown lots this year. I must add that. It's not all doom and gloom. As I said, I am dearly and beautifully and wonderfully and incredibly loved. I don't forget that. I try and remember it and I try and let it sink into my heart. I am blessed by so many friends. And there's breakthrough which I celebrate - for example, I went from May 2012 until May 2013 without struggling to breathe through anxiety! That's amazing for me!
But at the moment it's hard.
Stupid ankle being a catalyst! I do wish it would get better quicker.
I just needed to say all the things that I'm doing that are not healthy. It's often hard to communicate how I'm feeling. How do you say all of this without people getting confused or my eyes watering or a nagging feeling of worthless choking my heart. So that's the story - this is the confession. This is what I'm going through at the moment.
If you read this, thank you.
It felt good to sit and type. Release.