It Gets Better, It Gets Worse,

Sometimes I like re-reading old blogs because it reminds me that things get better, even when I read about times I was feeling worse. If there was an uphill from there, there can be one from here, too. You may have read the one about the Mental Health First Aid awareness course, or you may not, or maybe you just don't remember it, but the upshot was it was a difficult day because I had to think about why someone committed suicide and how they did it, and how seven years later, it still hurts that they made that choice. It was a tough day, but it had nothing on the actual practitioner course for me. 

Let me start this by saying that I would never try to dissuade anyone from attending an MHFA practitioner course. There are a lot of people in crisis out there and there are not enough of us. We cannot fix everything, we cannot help everyone, but we can listen and at the moment it could feel like the very opposite of a brief shout into the void (like a small ear to a great cacophony of sound or something similar...) My personal experience of the course was a bit difficult, more than a little bit actually, but at the same time, there was a heck of a lot of value in it. 

So, firstly, I am well aware of the fact that I can be my own worst enemy. Talk about having Generalised Anxiety Disorder can be quite difficult for me sometimes, but I do it. Sometimes I do it because I want to encourage other people to be able to talk about it. Sometimes I do it so that other people can understand what it looks like, or feels like and such. Sometimes I do it because it is the only way that I can tell people what it is I need from them in order to be okay. 

When you're talking about Mental Health in that sort of capacity, people need to know what it looks like hands on. We were really lucky, in some ways, to have people with a few different conditions involved in the course. We all talked about our experiences, our demons, and everything and it helped. Those who don't have problems, or have only experienced short-lived problems in the past made sure we felt safe, and what we were saying was valuable. Well, most of them anyway. 

It's hard because sometimes people are told to get themselves onto one of these courses to try and deal with people better and actually, they then say something stupid that makes the course harder for other people on it. That's kind of what happened to me. 

When I'm upset, or rather my anxiety is running the show, I need to chew things. Mostly it's my nails, or it's gum, hard chocolate or crisps or nuts also works, but I need something tough. I have a clicky thing (like eternal bubble wrap) and I had purposely worn one of my big hoodies that I can just dive inside of, and it's like my own cocoon. I struggled to make anything work right then, but I grabbed as much as I could chew on during the lunch break and then headed back into the room when someone asked me what I wasn't going to eat today. 

Eating disorders are anxiety based. There are times I struggle with food. It can be a consistency issue, it can be a heat thing, a flavour thing and all sorts of other things. Sometimes I have to remind myself to eat. Sometimes I have to remind myself that forcing myself to eat can make me sick, and not eating can make me sick and I have to balance everything against each other and try my hardest to be okay. Sometimes I eat the only things that I know my stomach won't freak out at because anxiety hits my stomach and causes IBS symptoms. I went through a period where I was sick no matter what I ate because of how stressed and anxious I was. If you're wondering how I managed through that, I drank a lot of Lucozade and I struggled. Until I sat in that course, I didn't really talk about it, which was partly because I didn't want people to watch me - I didn't want people to comment on it. I control it pretty damn well; I don't need anyone else looking over me to make sure I'm eating enough and the right things. 

But then someone commented, it was meant to be a joke, about what was I not going to eat today. And suddenly, after just having to listen to someone talking about eating disorders and sitting there chewing my fingernails, feeling like I wasn't sure if I could get through the rest of the session, I was having to think about telling that person, and all of the people that they had said it in front of, that my eating habits were not to be the subject of jokes or discussions, but actually, yes, I struggle with it, and pointing it out only made that even harder. It made for the hardest couple of days I had had in a few months and it made me want to scream. 

I wrote yesterday that I was feeling content, and I was. I felt like today was a good day, and it was, but I have been carrying it around that the comment hurt since it happened and it's hard to shake something like that. I'm hoping that writing it down means I can try and let it go now, even if just a little bit. 

In Too Deep,

I can already tell that this is going to be one of those blogs that I write more for me, and then look at and think, okay, maybe don't publish that, because of the fear that it leaves me feeling a little exposed. 

I'm sat here listening to what can only be called Romantic Ballads (no, seriously, that's what the Spotify playlist called them) and I can't say that it is helping with the whole effort of not getting emotional. 

Almost a year ago, a relationship that I had been in for a long time, and which I had emotionally committed to in such a thorough way came crashing to a not so abrupt end. It had been a long drawn out process that I can genuinely say wasn't helpful or healthy for either of us, and the truth is that it took a very long time for me to pick myself back up after that. A very long time.

Despite that, I worked on building the life that I wanted, which is an ongoing goal, but I am in a much better position now that I was 12 months ago. 

Now, I'm not going to say I'm over it, because I don't think I could commit myself to that, but I have got to the point where I could be happy, and that's dangerous.

Dangerous? Well, yes. Despite the fact that I can be alone, I can do things by myself and only be mildly uncomfortable, I am happy with my own company and don't really need to leave the house at weekends if I don't want to, the dangerous thing is, I like being in a relationship. 

I like having that special person I speak to all the time, that I can feel close to and that I can laugh with. I like having that commitment to that person. I don't know why, I just do. 

And danger occured. 

Out of nowhere - I wasn't even looking for once, appeared this man. In my usual styling, I'm not going to put his name on here, but C walked into my life quite casually, and then that was it; he was there. 

I'm not going to say that meeting him felt like nothing I had ever been through before, because it was like something I had before, and maybe that was part of the problem. In the space of when I stopped writing these blogs and when I started again, I met him, I started dating him, I stopped dating him and I realised I had fallen for him. And I also realised how much I hated that I let myself fall for him. 

Now, I know it's not like you get a choice in it, but really, I should have known better. He's in a place in my life that it will be a while before he will be gone, or I would have to do something drastic to get rid of him, and I don't want to do that. Partly because I don't want rid of him from my life. The beautiful thing about it has been that despite the fact that there have been tears, there has been pain, and there has been a bit of heart break, on my side at least, it's been pretty amiable. Most of my breakups have been screaming arguments or accusations and all that sort of thing - this has been a very polite, I guess. 

So, why am I mentioning this? Well, because, right at this moment, I don't want to write anything to do with romance, because it makes me want to tear my own eyelids off. I also don't want to ruin the thing that I wrote for NaNo by writing something stupid like, and they broke up because happy endings are for Disney and everything sucks. But where would we be if I didn't have an excuse for not writing? 

Catch you later.

Holier Than,

Back in Manchester I got one of my piercings done in a place called Holier Than Thou, which for a piercing place is either the best or worst pun in history. Personally I adore it. 

I'm not really sure as to where my love of piercings came from, but it certainly went into overdrive earlier this year when I decided I was going to get two of them at once. 

My nose has settled, quite happily, but my latest cartilage piercing is a different story.

Granted, I was a silly sausage and got it on the side that I apparently want to sleep on most often, but I was concerned that getting another on the same side that I have a helix piercing might look a little crowded since I only have quite small ears, though if I decide to get any more then this might have to be forgotten. 

I tried explaining this to a friend, but "sleeping on it" doesn't sound like the sort of thing which does a lot of damage to you.  It is one of the worst things you can actually do on a healing piercing because the pressure can damage the shape of the piercing... or something crappy like that which means you wake up with ear ache, a headache and general grumpy-arse tendencies. 

When I first got it, as with when I first got my helix done, I went without wearing headphones for about three weeks because I know the pressure and the reasonably air-tight environment is just not great for piercings. Unfortunately I am far too grumpy and anti-social to be able to survive for much longer without needing to plug myself into my music and ignore everyone. Thankfully a conversation with one of the piercing people in the clinic where I got this one done has told me it is no longer infected and will hopefully heal fine if I just stop sleeping on it. It just might have a couple of bumps on it.

I started writing this blog post a few hours ago and have forgotten my point several times over between then and now... I'm also watching A Knight's Tale for the first time in years, and I still find my favourite line hilarious "It's called a lance - hellooo."

Ah, yes. So, the advice was, do not sleep on it. 

Do not sleep on my right side. It sounds simple enough, doesn't it? Let me tell you, it is not so simple. 

I am the sort of person who moves a lot in my sleep and so saying stay off an entire side is a bit difficult. I have to somehow drill it into my head not to sleep on my right so that even my unconscious mind holds onto it. I'm pretty sure that it means I don't sleep as deeply as I really should, but I know I need that my ear does need some serious healing time. Once it has settled itself in and healed I will be fine, it's just annoying that it might be quite a long time until that happens. It's supposed to be between ten and sixteen months of having it put in, but I'm sure that this will take longer now that it's been a bit messed up. 

In a way, piercings are like novels. It is a slight pain getting through the first part, a little/lot more as you look after it, and then smooth sailing, for the most part, after that. The healing part, or the editing with a novel, can seem tedious and annoying and lots of other negative words, but I think that is the wrong attitude. The care and nurturing that you put into both processes shows a commitment to something and for my piercings, it's not just that they kind of look pretty, but that they become a part of me, like edits become a part of the novel. They become so integral that it is almost impossible to think of it without them.

I best go look after my little addition then - catch you later.