So, here we are again.
Up until recently, things had been looking up. I was getting better, my anxiety, Pete, was getting back in his box and leaving me alone for slightly longer stretches (who's a good boy, Pete!) and my giant photo wall of happiness was growing at an alarming rate with all of the amazing things I was doing.
And then it was like moving forwards on the game 'Snakes and Ladders' and there was a snake and I felt like I was right back to square 1. It's like what I imagine was the moment of realization in 'The Good Place' that actually, this was the bad place. In fact, that's pretty much exactly what it felt like.
This blog is going to be super fun to write because the c key on my laptop keeps sticking and I can't right the write right first time over.
My new job was sold to me as an idea of the good place. It was a permanent promotion, it was shiny, spangly and high profile. Just under 9 weeks in and I'm struggling to keep my head out of the toilet bowl because today feels like the same level of stress as when I was finishing university. We're back into the stage where I want to throw up, and will only eat bananas and carbs. (Carb-y things make it difficult to vomit and bananas have a lot of vitamins in. There is logical even in my "madness".)
I know I'm lucky to have a job. I'm really lucky to have a good job, but when you're job is putting pressure on your mental health to this extent, it's not luck, it's torture. I have worked really hard on my career, but I've also worked really hard on being okay, and I was getting there. This slip is so wounding.
Thankfully, this not being the first time I've fallen on the wagon and down the steep, rocky slope to rock bottom, this time I remembered to bring one of those gubs that shoots grappling hooks back up to the road. This time, instead of letting myself continue to plummet, I've hit a ledge and thrown my hands up in the air and said "I need help" "This can't continue" "I can't do this" and most importantly "I'm not letting this happen to me." This time, I know my trigger, and I'm taking my finger firmly off of it and I'm making a plan.
Instead of looking at myself in the mirror and allowing myself to feel like a failure, I'm reminding myself that looking after me is more important than the job. It has to be. That's not to say I'm giving up on my job and my life and moving back into my mum's house because I'm done with adulthood - though God, sometimes I wish I could do that - but I am working with my boss to take some of the stress out and build some more flexibility in. Despite the title of this blog, I've not reached my rock bottom again, because this time I realised I was falling, and I accepted it was happening in time to not let it get that far.
Anxiety is a horrible thing. Pete tried to tell me it was my fault today. I wasn't trying hard enough, I wasn't smart enough and I was being lazy. It feels somewhat miraculous that, despite all of that above, I was strong enough. I was strong enough to tell Pete to piss off. Back in your box now, Pete. I'm starting from a new bottom and I'm going to hike my way back up.
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