2016 is supposed to be an exciting year for me. Graduation for a lot of people is something to celebrate but with graduation comes a minefield of uncertainty and basically leaving me on the verge of panic attack central. As the days creep closer to the new year I feel like I’m digging my heels in and just saying no, no, no, no.
I’m not feeling happy or confident about graduating. I don’t like not having a plan and knowing what I’m going to do. I don’t know what I’ll graduate with, I don’t know if I can get a job or if I’ll get the one I want, I don’t know if my MA will run or if I’ll be able to afford it. Where will I live? Will I be able to deal with doing my MA and working at the same time? All these questions are running around my head and my anxiety is attacking me like a laser.
I’m hoping I’ll calm down and take it day by day, month by month but you do get asked a lot of questions. Everyone is interested in a kind way but it’s still stressful. Knowing that in a few months people will be coming to view mine and Ali’s home for the past few years and that I’ll have to start boxing things up again…To say that all this makes me emotional is an understatement and this is all probably a lot work because I’m tired and generally emotional at the moment.
It isn’t all doom and gloom. Some nights I think about exciting things and plans I have and ideas for the blog or the book I’ve always wanted to write. I guess it’s all ups and downs. I’ll try and go into 2016 with a day by day attitude because there are going to be a lot of changes coming my way and I am really anxious. I’m hoping I can work on my techniques and keep fighting the anxiety because I really do want to enjoy what I have left of my undergraduate degree and hopefully there will be good things to come in 2016.
Ah mental illness, you little pest, of course you want to pop your head up for the holidays. I’ve been thinking a lot about mental illness and christmas time, I say thinking and I mean getting anxious about it. I’ve wanted to write this post for a long time but almost couldn’t find the words for what I wanted to say.
For most people Christmas equals joy and happiness, right? For some of us though our mental health threatens the celebrations every year whether we like it or not. Not only is it hard for the person dealing with the illness, but also the people around them and so I’m going to be frank. One day of the year doesn’t make a mental illness magically disappear, it doesn’t work that way.
In the past I’ve been ill on birthdays and ill on Christmas day and it sucks. I’d probably call it one of my absolute worst points of the illness. I was 16 and even though I loved all the gifts that I’d gotten and my family I was on a low and it wouldn’t shake no matter how hard I tried. So my family got a ‘meh’ response, I cried, my Mum got upset and my Dad was confused. It was Christmas, why was I upset?!? This was long before any diagnoses or medication and I felt like I was drowning. I hated myself for not being excitable like I normally was. A phone call changed everything though. I spoke to my Gramps on the phone and we talked, I cried again and he said not to worry Christmas can be an overwhelming time. We spoke more and by the time we ended the conversation I felt better and hugged my Mum to tell her it wasn’t anything she’d done at all.
Thankfully the further I’ve gotten into my recovery the better Christmas has been. Last year I woke up before my little sister and woke her up in our matching onesies. This year after assignments I was finally excited, singing christmas songs and getting excited about presents. Am I anxious about lows? Sure. Right now though I’m doing things to combat it, I’m getting as much sleep as I can, eating healthier and will be exercising this week at home.
I have to point out I’m at a stage in my illness where this is all possible. 16 year old me was too absorbed by it to do anything. So I guess what I’m trying to say is if you live with someone with a mental health condition they’re not doing this because they hate christmas, because they want to ‘make things difficult’ or because they’re not trying. They doing it because it’s a part of the illness. So if someone is depressed, anxious or struggling with their food just let them deal with it the way they can. If someone with an eating disorder needs to have something else at the dinner table, don’t make a fuss or judge. If someone needs half an hour of alone time because things get too much then let them. Basically they need to do what they need to do to get well.
As a message to the others who are anxious about the holidays. It’s one day ofthe year, it may seem like the biggest thing but next year there will be another christmas. The most important thing is taking every day one by one and that is what you will do. I’ve been there, when you feel like you’re going to ruin everything and people would be better off without you but that’s not you speaking, that’s the illness I promise.
So as I travel home for Christmas today, I just want to tell people to be kind. Love no matter what this Christmas and remember a hug can mean more than a million words. I hope everyone has a Merry Christmas before we hurtle into 2016!
Chloe
P.S I’ll still be blogging every day over Christmas! Don’t think you’ve gotten away from me that easy!
She’s fine, she’s always so happy, she achieves everything she wants. Blah, blah, blah. It’s all NOISE to someone with depression. The outside is a very superficial thing, I can’t even begin to count the amount of times in the last 6 years I’ve plastered on a smile or a look to make people think that I’m enjoying myself or that I’m mentally in the room. It really upsets me, especially when sometimes people who are close to me can’t tell the difference either.
In the past week I’ve had a lot to deal with trying to get back into work, my spine flat out freaking out and refusing to let me move, having to cancel a show, a close pet dying, handing in my notice to the society, more pain, having a leak in my ceiling, missing home and everything just got too much. I got to the point where I couldn’t go anywhere that wasn’t extremely important and I only just got there. I dragged myself to my physio session and hardly spoke to anyone because I was so much pain. I couldn’t face uni for the past week. No one really cared, I became invisible in all but one situation.
You learn a lot through this illness. You learn who understands, who pretends they do. You learn what the right ways to look after yourself are eventually and how to go about them. You learn who will just sit with you, saying nothing but just being there because that’s what you need on your lowest day. You learn who will write you off as wanting ‘attention’ or ‘being selfish’ and who is educated enough to know this isn’t something you want or can switch on and off.
I don’t even know if I’m making much sense in this post but I think that might be because my own head doesn’t make sense to me half the time. The same way other people don’t because I just have a different variation of what normal is. I finally feel on my feet again, inching towards my assignments, ready to go back to class tomorrow and work with kids who need their confidence boosted. I’m still struggling and I don’t know how to feel about the rest of the week but I’m getting there with Ali, my incredible family and one or two close friends making sure I don’t fall again.
I’ll get there, after all what they say is true you live, you learn.
I didn’t intend to write a post on mental health today, until I realised that World Mental Health Day had snuck up on me and I didn’t have anything planned. I think a lot about how much about mental health I should put onto my blog, am I putting too little in, am I putting too much in, will people just see me as an illness? It’s a big concern I have being so open about my issues and my life.
I’ve lived with issues since I was 11, I’d be extremely unhappy at school due to bullying. I’d say that the really awful depression started at around 15, so 6 years ago now. I’m in a much better place but I’m not ‘cured’ and I’ll probably live with this for the rest of my life, it’s just one part of me. It’s like my asthma or the weak knees I inherited, it’s just something that’s there which can make my life more difficult.
I’m fully aware that not everyone gets the help I now get and isn’t as open, and that’s fine! This is one of the most person illnesses you can have, if you don’t want to talk about it so be it! For a long time after my diagnoses although I felt some relief I couldn’t say it out loud I couldn’t say ‘I have depression’ because I was scared about what people would say, even now I have that and it’s sad. We need more education because at least one quarter of the population lives with a mental illness, so why is it still taboo?
The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge today, photo from the BBC
Love them (like me) or hate them, the royal family getting involved in mental health work and the fight against stigma can only be a good thing. I understand William’s public self helping with the cause due to his late mother, Princess Diana, who openly admit to struggling with Depression, Self-harm and Bulimia before she died. Catherine also has been strongly involved, particularly when it comes to young people, whether this is for personal reasons or not I cannot fault her. The fact that these young royals are being open and engaging will hopefully send a message to people or hope.
There’s also celebrities opening up more and more, I personally find inspiration in JK Rowling and Stephen Fry. When you see people in the public eye talking or just admitting that they also have a mental illness it makes you feel more normal, like you can achieve like they have and that you have someone to admire. I think it also makes them more human.
I thought a lot before writing this and I didn’t want it to be specifically about me, I just didn’t feel like exposing my emotions right now, partly because I’m in a bit of a werid headspace where my brain can’t work out of I’m on a high or a low…it’s really hard to explain. I did want to mention how interested people were at the open day today about the topic of mental health in my dissertation and going on in my PhD later hopefully. I wanted to mention how I came home and drew something to mark the day and try and get out how I was feeling whilst watching Stephen Fry’s ‘The Life of a Manic Depressive’ because I didn’t know what I wanted to write about. Like most people in his documentary said, my illness can make my life utter hell but at the same time I don’t know if I’d get rid of it.
Up and down, up and down. Mental illness isn’t something easy to live with and as a uni student sometimes you get pressures that other people aren’t used to. I’ve been open and honest in the last three years on this blog about my life living with mental health issues. I’ve given speeches and I’ve tried to educate the people around me about illnesses. Despite all that I’m no superhero and I feel like that’s something I need to share because of course we post the most positive and best parts of our lives, but it’s not always real.
While I’m really happy to be back at uni and feel happiest when I’m in my lectures focusing and getting new ideas, when I’m on breaks I’m not as happy the depression creeps up and grabs me. I wish I could go I’m fine I’m great I never get depressed any more but that would be a lie. It is an illness and it is something I live with. I’ve found this week difficult, getting back into routine, dealing with the constant pain in my spine, trying to do the horse riding society, sorting band stuff out when shows are cancelled and organising everything else as well as doing my uni work and my job. It is a lot and I do get overwhelmed.
I guess the point of writing this is because I don’t want to seem like this person who has no worries, no troubles. I do struggle and I do have days where I just can’t face anything, need to switch my phone off and try and make my head stop spinning, usually by sleeping it off. I have days when I just feel like I can’t do anything or I’m angry because why the hell do I deserve this. At the same time though I’ve always said that having this illness really makes me appreciate happiness.
I don’t want people to freak out after reading this and call and text, this is part of my normal life. Just because I am open about it doesn’t mean that things are getting worse, there are times when I need my own time or I need time away but I’m dealing with my struggles in a much healthier way than I used to. I’ve lost horse riding but I’m playing with some other things and if all else fails I have my music.
I want to end this by saying don’t be afraid of admitting you have low days and that you’re not perfect. Having a mental illness doesn’t make you weak or stupid, it’s just something some of us have to deal with. As always I’m eternally grateful to the family, friends and incredible partner I have helping me through my fuzzy head days.
As always I love to hear from you guys and if you’d like to share your story feel free to email me chloefmetzger@gmail.com
After last weeks celebrations for birthday week, I am surprised I’m still awake after my second week of activities and shenanigans. This week was Fresher week and although I haven’t been out pounding the dance floor I have been pretty busy and, well, I definitely feel like a first year. I spent my first Freshers week being incredibly awkward and nervous and I spent a lot of time in my room, my second Freshers week I went out with my friends, signed up for societies and partied…for my third, I was actually having to be a responsible person.
I spent Monday in physio and working, Tuesday practicing with the boys and taking the Amp for emergency repair (not an ideal situation), Wednesday working with the newbies and taking them to enrollment, Thursday at Freshers fair and then straight to a show at the Fighting Cocks (quite possibly the best crowd I’ve ever played to, shouting, dancing, clapping and an encore!) and back to the fair again on Friday where we got over 100 sign ups for the Horse Riding Society! Get in!
I’d be lying if I said that everything was completely easy this week. I’ve struggled a lot with both my spine and my anxiety. I’ve got a love hate relationship with Freshers, I love that it’s the beginning of the year and I’m excited to get stuck in, but at the same time I get so anxious with so many people around and everything going on all at once. I’ve met other people like that too, which makes me feel a little better. I’m also freaking out a little out third year, all the work I have to do, the thought of applying for my MA and funding and not knowing what’s going to happen once I graduate. It was also more than a little bittersweet not having Eleanor, Maisha and Alissa around this year to hang out with too.
Overall, it’s been a good week, definitely challenging but I’m pleased with what I’ve achieved. Am I ready to go back? Yes. I can’t wait to get back into lectures and have something to get stuck into again. I know this years going to be a bit hard because of my spine and I’ll have to miss out on some things that I wanted to do, but maybe I’ll get to do something I hadn’t planned on. I have some great things this year, I love my job, I love my friends, my bands FINALLY getting somewhere, I have two lovely little hammies and the best guy around at my side. I think this year’s going to be a pretty good one.
I’ve been thinking lately about milestones. I don’t know what it was exactly but I’m guessing it’s a combination of turning 21 (which I don’t understand why it’s a big deal in the UK), seeing more and more of the people I went to school with having children and getting engaged and a lot of my other friends graduating, starting careers and all that jazz. To put it simply milestones freak me out, I’m sure they do for most people. You’re supposed to do this, do that at a certain age, a certain time. For girls there’s a choice between being a mother and being a career woman, because we’re told we can’t have it all.
In some ways I’m lucky, I found the love of my life when I was 13 years old and we live together. Now we’re more than happy together, we’re both doing degrees we love and have careers that we want, but for everyone else it’s not enough. Everyone asks me when we’ll get married, when we’ll have a baby (never if). I just feel a bit stuck and part of that is because I am a woman. Ali NEVER gets asked when he’ll be a father, he’s asked about his job and what he’s going to do for work, it’s all pretty frustrating. I know that I’m an intelligent woman and I have big aspirations, so why do people ask about these ‘traditional’ things.
I’m in no way saying that people my age shouldn’t be married or have children, most of the women in my family had babies by the time they were my age and they’ve all taught me so much. My best friend became a mother at 17 and she’s one of the most awesome ones I know.The thing is my dream right now is walking across that stage to pick up my degree, being able to treat myself with money I’ve earnt and being happy. I will have children, I’d love to be a mum at some point but I wish people would understand there is so much more to me than the fact I can grow a human. I liked this picture below, it definitely made me smile.
This isn’t an anti-children post, which is how some will read it, it’s just a frustration that sometimes I’m judged by these milestones when I have other amazing things going on. I hate that I have to think about body clocks and all that crap when I’m trying to plan things out about where I want to be in my life, because I’ve been bombarded with media listing risks and problems. Like I said why am I even thinking about this as a twenty year old!
I appreciate that this post might not make much sense, I don’t even know if it does to me, but I can’t be the only one who feels like this. Who knows how I’ll feel in a month, a year or ten but I just want it to be on my own terms, not because of supposed milestones and other people’s ideas of what happiness is.
One swipe to my stomach, a blow to my head, anxiety is a bigger heavyweight than any boxer. In comparison the last few weeks have been blissful when I only have lows to think about, anxiety tries to eat me alive and makes my depression worse. It may shock you to find out that I’ve actually had a pretty good weekend with good company and a lot of productivity. I’ve finally got most of the vocals for the album recorded in the past two days and I’ve been able to spend time with Ali and before that a great time with Joe.
I have so many good things to look forward to this week for my birthday and the next few weeks are all exciting but my anxious brain is starting to freak out. I’m starting to stress about if I’ve done enough reading over the summer, if I’ve done enough research, will I be ok with my classes? Will I get the first class degree I’ve dreamed about? Will my spine recover as it should? Will I be good enough to run the horse riding society? Will the band take off this year before Rhys has to go back to America at the end of the academic year? All these thoughts and panics are swirling around in my brain, triggered by one thing that I’m anxious about this week.
I’m hoping that it’ll start to go away after a good night’s sleep, sometimes that works. I think that my biggest fear is that I’ll be sick on my birthday the way I was on my sixteenth birthday. I had a panic attack at my party and couldn’t handle all the people being around me, a few days later I posed for pictures desperately wanting to feel ‘normal’ and relaxed rather than fighting a battle with myself. I’m not at that level but it’s something I’ll never forget. Logically, I know that my body is tired and I’ve been busy which is probably why I’m getting so anxious as well as being a little nervous about my third year.
I needed to get all of this out of my head and onto a page and, usually, I’m lucky enough to speak to people who have felt like this before. With Anxiety and Depression it’s nice to know that you’re not alone in how you feel and knowing that other people have good days and bad days too. Hopefully this will pass sooner rather than later and it’ll be a distant memory by my birthday at the end of the week.
Every now and again, when I’m having a low day I start to think about where it all started, the first time I remember feeling depressed. While I was browsing online tonight I found an article on the BBC claiming research states that people who are considered Goths are more likely to become depressed and self harm. To say it made me angry was an understatement, but actually it upset me more than anything. I didn’t identify as a Goth as a teenager but I was well known as one of the ’emo’ kids at school and took a lot of shit for it. While other girls go into fashion I would resist shopping as much as possible unless it was for black clothes and anything with a guitar or skull on it, my parents did think I was a goth.
Throughout my teenage years I was constantly pissed off by the media saying that the music I listened to made people kill themselves, made people violent, made us all antisocial weirdos. I also remember the death of Sophie Lancaster and the stir it caused that she was murdered merely for the way she chose to dress, when the rockers, the goths and the emos all stood together in grief. You see if you’re involved in it you know that we’re not ‘freaks’ or ‘weirdos’ we’re people just like everyone else.
Now looking through my instagram feed nowadays most people can’t believe that I used to wear black constantly, love eyeliner and hate anything remotely feminine. I’m different to how I used to be but that teenagers still there, I love eyeliner, I swapped wrist bands for tattoos and there is nothing better than having My Chemical Romance on full blast, but there is one crucial difference, music is no longer my only saviour.
Like I said at the beginning I will think about my depression and my teenage years, there’s no doubt I was sick. The thing is I didn’t get sick because of the music I listened to, in fact it was the opposite, it kept me going. I found in these lyrics someone who understood, someone who got the stuff going on in my head and the desperate loneliness I had. The music made me feel like I wasn’t a freak like people said I was and it introduced me to some of the greatest people in my life as well as influencing my own music.
Me aged 13, just getting into the scene
I put the song Famous Last Words in this post because more than any song I associate this with trying to carry on. On more nights than I could count I would lay in bed wishing I could sleep and crying, for no reason and every reason. I was miserable with my life at school at couldn’t see the point of anything but My Chem saved me, say what you want about cliche I don’t care. I would like there and repeat the lyrics while I was crying:
‘I am not afraid to keep on living, I am not afraid to walk this world alone.. Honey if you stay I’ll be forgiven, nothing you can say can stop me going home’
I sang those lyrics over and over again to give me strength, to tell myself not to give up on living. As you can see I’m here, so it must have worked. This music and these lyrics gave me something that I couldn’t even give myself at that point in time, hope and reason to carry on. I’m not writing this for pity or for people to tell me ‘how brave I am’, I’m writing this because like thousands of other kids rock music changed my life for the better and I’m pretty sure it saved my life.
I didn’t get depressed because of the music I listened to, in fact I’m pretty sure if we’re going that far back you’ll have to take into account all the pop music I listened to at 11 years old when it initially reared it’s ugly head after I was beaten up almost every day. I don’t think many people would blame kid friendly pop, right?
I know a lot of people who love the music I do and they don’t have a mental illness. I do and I do because of what I’ve been through in my life, not my musical choices.
Chloe Metzger 