I don't blog as often as I would like, but there are times when I have that urge to WRITE! It's like a traveller who gets itchy feet when they hear of another person's travel tales (I also suffer from this). Or when you have to go for a run to burn off the frustrations and stresses of the day (unfortunately I don't suffer from this, I comfort eat instead). I'm not sure what the writer/ blogger equivalent is called, but I've had it this week. The opposite of writer's block.
I've been feeling quite jumbled and out of sorts for the past couple of weeks, and haven't been sleeping that well. On Monday night I couldn't sleep and eventually had to write some things down on my phone just to stop them from churning around my head. Here's what I wrote (bear in mind that it was about 1.30am):
Why are friendships and relationships such hard work at times? I sometimes wonder if it's just me who has high expectations when it comes to people. I'm not excluding myself from this - I seem to regularly let myself down and don't meet the standards I've set out for myself.
I need to look for a new place to live over the next few weeks. This is raising some hard questions for me, that I'm doing my best to avoid thinking about too much. Should I move in with other people? It would be good to have more company. But part of me feels that the older you get, the fewer people there are who want to live with flatmates. I'm used to living on my own now, having done so for over 18 months. But can I afford to keep living on my own? And surely this won't help me to feel less lonely. My parents have offered to help me buy a place when I'm ready. But I don't feel that my job is stable enough to do this. And there's still that wee girl in me who thought I would be buying my first home with my husband.
I don't think it's much of a secret that I would like to be married. But the prospect of such a big commitment also terrifies me. Will it be worth the challenges and compromises? What if it doesn't work out? I know that marriage isn't going to make me happy and solve my problems in itself. I can't rely on someone else to sort my problems and issues out. But there's still something in me that thinks I would probably be happier if I was in a stable relationship.
Part of me wishes that I could just hide from all of this grown up stuff. The ignorance of youth sounds quite appealing. But unfortunately (as my mum reminded me recently) I am a grown up. So I need to face these decisions head on. Like a grown up.
I used to make lots of plans for the future. I don't do that so much anymore. Now I'm scared of looking ahead too much. I don't like the unknown. I'm scared of the possibility of having depressions again in the future. Of staying single and not having kids of my own. Scared of not feeling financially stable and running out of savings. Scared of being left behind in my groups of friends.
Sometimes I wonder what my life would look like if I wasn't living in the shadow of fear?
All sounds a bit depressing now that I read back over it! I also sound like a broken record, and I'm sure those who are close to me are fed up of hearing me talk about the same old worries! But these are my worries, and at times I do feel better for laying them out bare in front of me. (Although I wonder if I overshare on my blog...)
I have been doing better over the past few months, for which I am very grateful. The dark pit of depression is not a safe or pleasant place to be. It's like that analogy of the frog and a pan of hot water. If you dropped me into the hot water of depression, of course I'd do what I could to jump out of it straight away. But when it happens gradually you don't notice you're in danger. It creeps in and the familiar warmth almost feels comforting, until you realise that it's suffocating you and you're too tired and weighed down to kick your legs and get free. So I am relieved to be out of that place.
About a month ago, I was doing some reflecting and journaling. I thought back to when I was 18 and in the Dominican Republic with Tearfund for 6 weeks. It was hard work and I was terribly homesick, but it was such a formative experience for me. I was reminded that I came home having decided that I wanted to work for a charity and would do what I could to make a difference in the lives of others. It feels like such a revelation to be reminded of that time. I imagine being able to tell my 18 year old self that 12 years later I would be working for a charity, and that I would be making a difference. It gives me a lump in my throat to think about it.
At what point did I lose that dream and get bogged down in the uselessness of comparison, disappointment and regret? And how do I avoid falling into that trap again? I feel like remembering that young dream has given me some of my sight back again. I can sense my enthusiasm return. Slowly. For life, for work, for myself.
And I think I'll stop here before I write a book... I need to blog more regularly!
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