the unknown

I've always had the view that I hated the unknown. It scares me. I like to have some idea and some sense of control of the situations I'm getting myself into.

I was just browsing flights to go travelling (I won't be able to depart for another year and a half, but curiosity often gets the better of me) and I was getting carried away, imagining myself landing back in Australia. And the first thought of had, was how exciting it would be having that feeling of not knowing what was on the road ahead.

So now I'm left confused. How can I be so terrified of the unknown, yet crave the thought of it? It doesn't make any sense.

death time limit

5 years ago was a very significant day in my life; I lost someone very close to me. The day of their terminal cancer diagnosis a few months prior, was the start of the downward slope I've been slipping down over the past few years. I can pinpoint that day as the last time I was truly happy.

There have been times I thought I would never get over this particular death. I don't think death and losing someone is something you can particularly 'get over', but it's definitely something that becomes a little bit more bearable. Grieving is cliche central, because it really is a matter of one step at a time and I truly believe the main thing that will help heal the emotional pain, is time.

Something I have found very hard throughout, is the way it has also affected the people around me. I can handle myself struggling, but I struggled to watch the people I love struggling. It's a bit of a head fuck seeing your Dad lying on the living room crying out for someone who will never step foot through our front door again. Or your Mum unable to stand up because her emotional pain is so unbearably excruciating that her only option is to lie in bed sobbing. As time has gone on, I've not witnessed these painful moments as often as I did at the beginning. I kind of just assumed that I never would again.

But today I came home from work unexpectedly early, and walked in on a scene that broke my heart. My Dad just sat in the living room crying. It's a weird weird feeling seeing your Dad cry. My Dad is someone you'd class as a "stereotypical man". The only time I've ever seen him cry is throughout the aftermath of this death. But even now, I find it so hard to get my head around. But I don't think I should find it hard - I've spent hours upon hours crying about it, so why shouldn't my Dad?

Like most of my posts, I'm not sure what the purpose of this one is. Sorry. X

Next phase of life - turning 20

I turned 20 a few weeks ago and I struggled with my birthday more than I usually do. I've never really liked my birthday as the extra attention makes me feel awkward and uncomfortable. But since my Grandad passed away a couple of years ago, its made the whole birthday situation a whole lot harder. My Grandad and I were only a week apart with our birthdays, and we always had a joke about us both being Taurus' (hence the stubbornness!). My birthday had turned into a reminder that he was no longer here. Also, on my 17th birthday was when I was at rock bottom. It was the first time I took to drugs to try and cope, and I was very very close to ending my life that day. 

Anyway, moving on from the doom and gloom - I wasn't crying non-stop needing to be coaxed out of bed this year, like I usually am on my birthday. I got up. I cried. I got dressed and I got on a train to Brighton. I saw my friends and I went out. I made a conscious effort to keep going. But something just did not feel right. 

After reflecting and piecing my thoughts together, I have realised that turning 20 was actually a pretty big deal to me. Turning 20 (in my head) means that I'm in a new phase of life. I'm not a teenager anymore. SO much is going to happen in this decade. And my Grandad won't be here to witness any of it. He was around in the last phase of my life, but wouldn't be in the next. He's already missed out on me moving out, getting a job, going to uni, being discharged from treatment and travelling to the otherside of the world. But that's okay. I might not be able to call him up and tell him about the next steps of my life, but I'm pretty sure he's around somewhere able to take it all in for himself. 

Again, I have no idea what the purpose of this post is. Just something I need to get off my chest. X

Heading towards a cancer diagnosis

Over the course of the past few weeks, I've been on one of the scariest rides life has ever put me on. I've spent a lot of it trying to come to terms with the possibility that my Mum has cancer, and that I could possibly lose her. 

Long story short, when I went home from Uni at Easter, my Dad picked me up from work one evening. This is unheard of for my Dad. On the car journey home he told me that over the past couple of months, my Mum hadn't been very well and it had reached a point where an intervention was needed and she badly needed to seek medical help. This through me off guard and I was a bit worried/concerned/confused, but I wasn't feeling any extreme emotions because me being naive, I hadn't realised the true seriousness of the situation. In brief, my Mum had been losing a lot of blood, and I didn't realise how much or how badly it had affected her as I wasn't around to witness it. 

Fast foward a few weeks and a few tests later; the conclusion was that my Mum had an abnormal cyst on her ovaries but the cause of the bleeding was from her womb. Shadows and linings showed up in an ultrasound which then led to her having a biopsy. That's when it hit me. At first, I totally overreacted and was bracing myself on how to cope with life after my Mum's death. (ridiculous, I know). My Mum of all people, was the one to console me and bring me back down to Earth to deal with the situation logically. We still don't have the biopsy results, but some more scans and blood tests results have come back and it's looking pretty positive that whatever it is making my Mum ill, it's not cancer. I don't want to get my hopes up, but I am so grateful. 

This whole situation has taught me so much and opened up my eyes to what other people are going through. I cannot physically explain how scared I was feeling when for those couple of weeks it looked like a cancer diagnosis was heading my Mum's way. So I can't even begin to imagine how other people and their families are feeling when they hear that news. Even just today, so many people will have been given a cancer diagnosis and will be experiencing all the emotions I felt and more, and on a much larger scale. I care for cancer patients and witness what they themselves and their families are going through and I always thought I had a good idea of the emotional pain they're in. I was wrong. I had no idea. It's one of those things you don't fully understand until you're directly affected by it. And I haven't even been directly affected, I was just one step closer than I used to be. 

When you're different to your family

I've never really got on that well with my family. Partly because they're not always the best people I've come across, but I fully accept that partly it's down to my erratic and horrid behaviour when I was ill.

BUT

I've never really had a good relationship with them - even before I became ill. And after months of therapy, my therapist made me realise that my family were a big factor to the cause and trigger of my illnesses, especially my bulimia and anxiety.

The other day, I was working with a new lady at work. She was telling me about her life and it really inspired me. She's been dealt some pretty shit cards by life, yet she's still very positive and has the most amazing outlook on everything. I was casually talking to someone else about how the majority of my extended family really don't like me and the new lady said she was shocked I didn't get on with them and that I seemed like the type of person to have a great relationship with my family. This sparked a conversation about everything over the past few years and the lady (sorry, I'm trying not to use her name for anonymity!) said that it sounded like it was just because I was different to the rest of my family- I spoke up about the things I didn't agree with and they didn't like that. Quite a few people have said that before and I've always totally dismissed their opinions because I felt like they'd naturally be bias towards me. But to have someone who I'd only known a few hours come to that conclusion after having a pretty deep chat with her, made me pull some pieces together and see that maybe there is some truth in that judgement. Yes, it's definitely not the only factor to it. But I am a lot different to them all, and I did used to be so outspoken about everything which they made me believe was a bad thing and after the abuse that went on- I stopped being the gobby little loud mouth I used to be. Recently though, I've regained those outspoken traits that disappeared when I was ill. Hopefully, I'll never go back to the gobby teenage ways I used to have, but I'm glad I'm speaking up and regaining my voice again.

Something happened this evening that brought all these thoughts and realisations together. I spoke up about something I did not agree with. And my family really did not like it. And for about 10 minutes, I felt like the most worthless person in the world. BUT- I've pulled myself out of that. I don't feel like that anymore. I refuse to let people make me feel worthless and wrong just because I don't agree with what they're saying/doing. Not anymore, never again.

X

Turning Points

I think moving to Brighton was the best thing I've ever done for myself. However, when I came home at Christmas, I was still really unhappy. Whenever people would ask me how things were going I'd tell them how great it was- but it was so draining because I felt like I was lying.

Last week I came home again. And again, people asked me how things were going. And once again, I told them how great things were. But this time, I didn't feel like I was lying. Don't get me wrong, I could still give you a list of negatives as long as my arm, but I'm not as overwhelmed by them and it gives me the chance to appreciate the positives. I'm still missing my job more than I can put into words, and I'm still absolutely desperate to just drop everything and to go and travel the world, but right now- I don't think staying in Brighton will be such a bad thing.

X

Pushing Yourself

Somewhere in Brighton

I've learnt a lot about myself over the past couple of years, and I think one of the most beneficial things I've really learnt is that the best way to overcome something is to just throw yourself in the deep end and do it. It's something everyone always knows is the best thing to do, but more often than not we don't actually push ourselves to go ahead and do it.

So many things fill us fear and we shy away from them because we feel like we're not good enough or that other people can do it better. And yes, there will probably always be someone better than you but that doesn't mean you're incapable. I've been in a lot of anxiety-provoking situations lately and I've had no choice but to push myself and keep going. These situations haven't always turned out successfully but a lot of them have and if I'd have carried on running away from the situations that scared me I would never have achieved things that I'd told myself I couldn't do.

These situations usually arose by chance - situations that were totally out of my control. I didn't deliberately put myself in them, they just kind of happened. But over the past couple of weeks I've subconsciously been creating my own anxiety-provoking situations, situations which scared the hell out of me but I was the person who made them happen in the first place. And as much as it exhausts me and sometimes I wonder what the hell I'm doing, I'm so glad I've ended up doing it to myself because I'm now doing things I never even dreamed I'd be strong enough to do.

I have no idea what the point of this post is, but there you have my 3am ramblings.