So, this morning, the next day after writing this post, I thought it was really pants and disjointed, but I will publish anyway.
I started this blog and even though it hasn’t even been a week, I have been going through a journey in my mind. It is good sometimes and other times it is scary as I remember periods when I felt so unwell, that just the memory makes my heart skip a beat.
I also have been reading other blogs on mental health and they make me feel a little bit like a farce. Other people have been through so much shit in their lives, so it totally makes sense that they end up with mental health problems. I had and have a good life so don’t really think I have genuine reasons to have depression and anxiety. But maybe these conditions have no rhyme or reason? On the other hand, I personally know people who faced awful circumstances and still remained ‘sane’ and were not afflicted by mental health issues…
Not sure what is the point of this post really, It was just that I was thinking about all that and wanted to write it down. The other reason I feel a little bit like a farce is because I am not a very good writer, and the bloggers I read are just so good. English is not my first language (I now feel more comfortable writing in English than in Portuguese), and I know that despite reading and re-reading what I write, I still miss lots of mistakes and weird phrasing. But I won’t care about this, I will carry on writing and welcome suggestions on how to improve.
I guess I better stick to the story of my life and the times when depression and anxiety manifested themselves.
The last time I wrote how I first experiences anxiety when I was 16. After getting over that, even though I didn’t know what it was at the time, my Mum sent me to see a psychotherapist. She (the therapist, not my mother) wasn’t very helpful and I wasn’t mature enough. To be honest, it was a bit of a waste of time and money. A year later, when I was finishing my last year at school, I felt anxious again. I had a boyfriend in school and he and his family were from another country and were moving back there after the school year finished. I was quite upset by it all and wanted to spend as much time as possible with him. But every time I was with him I felt really nervous and sick. The impeding doom feeling was there the whole time and I just couldn’t concentrate in the present. I was constantly worrying about the imminent future. It was unpleasant but not as bad as the previous time, and to be honest I didn’t associate one feeling with the other. When I remember it now, they were very similar feelings and they can be easily identified as anxiety. Once again, no one mentioned anxiety or anything related at the time. There was a very clear reason why I was feeling that way, so I guess it just made sense.
He left, we carried on by having a long distance relationship for a while, but university was great and I decided to break up after one year. I was free from those horrible feelings and I was happy. I would be happy for a long time. My university years were truly brilliant. I spent four years there, not learning a lot, but making some of my life best friends.
Going back to the writing thing, I wish I could tell this story better, describe my feelings better. I am also unsure on how to carry on writing, should I do it in chronological order or just randomly? I will just see what happens as I go on writing.
See you soon.