Talking Helps (Allegedly)

Friday, 9 May 2014

I’ve always been told that talking about things helps. How it helps I do not know and how I’m supposed to talk about these things is beyond me. I’ve programmed myself to be emotionally and mentally tough and to not rely on anyone. This is probably due to the fact when I was at school I didn’t really have anyone to turn to in a time of need. I had friends but to be perfectly honest, we only hung out with each other because we basically had to. I would never go to my parents about anything as, although I think my mum would like us to be, we’re not that kind of family.

There have been a fair amount of major events in my life (a few of which have happened in the last few months) but I’ve dealt with them in my usual way; I ignored the emotional and mental side and just got on with it. I should’ve learnt my lesson when I was 10 years old and randomly started crying at a party. I was crying about my dad’s motorbike accident that almost claimed his life 4 years prior to my mini meltdown. I guess I was too na├»ve to realise that this is would what happen every time I bottled things up for days, weeks, months and even years on end.

Fast forward 11 years and here I am writing what is probably a load of crap to you right now. For the past 2 weeks I’ve felt “off”. I’ve felt absolutely miserable and I don’t know why. I’ve been paranoid about things and have almost started crying over tiny, insignificant moments. It came to blows on Wednesday morning when I found myself almost crying into my keyboard at work for no real reason. I swiftly did the unthinkable in my world and made an appointment to see my doctor for the same day. Much like my emotions I ignore physical pain so I rarely go to the doctors. I think I’m starting to see a pattern here.

I spent every minute up until it was time to leave for my appointment almost crying. I managed to suck it up and hold it together but I came dangerously close to crying at work for the second time since I started. As soon as I walked into the doctor’s room I was practically in tears. I explained to her what was wrong and that I just wanted to make sure there was nothing major going on inside of me. She refrained from diagnosing me right there and then but I may as well be honest with you since I’m writing this, she reckons I am suffering from depression and anxiety but will confirm it at my next appointment.

I’m not sure how to deal with the almost diagnosis. I don’t know how to handle any form of emotion whether it’s my own or someone else’s so this is completely new to me. It’s something I want to tackle head on as I don’t enjoy feeling this way but I just don’t know how. Admitting that there’s something going on inside me is I guess the first step to recovery but I don’t know what the next step is. I feel like I’m playing stepping stones on Takeshi’s Castle and if I step on the wrong one I’ll sink and bang my head off of something. That was an odd analogy.

Well this has been a rather self-indulgent post. I’m sorry this post has been a little out of the ordinary for my blog. I hope I can look back at this post at some point in my life and smile about the time the robot that I am malfunctioned. Until then I will just do what my doctor told me and patiently wait for my full diagnosis. If you never hear from me again it’s because I’ve followed the “exercise more” orders from my doctor and I’m lying in a field trying to recover from a 30 second run as a result.

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