Feigning Equilibrium
Hello!
I haven't written anything on here since May 2021 and I won't lie, I did wonder whether I'd ever write again but here we are. And, like so many times before, I felt compelled to write again after life blew up in my face and I kind of had no other outlet other than typing into the void. But that was the premise of the whole site 4 years ago. And then again, if you're reading this, you probably already know that.
To be fair, I've written this post before on several occasions under different guises; wading through treacle, coping with grief, going through the motions, feeling like a fraud, feeling numb, drowning. It all feels like pretty familiar territory but as I write this now, I'm not a 20 year old undergrad anymore, I'm a 24 year old woman with a full-time job who in theory, should have her shit together. So I guess this time, I'm trying to figure out (whilst taking you with me), how to carry on, do my job, maintain my relationship, and generally be an adult whilst it feels like a huge hole has been blown into the side of me. And I kind of figured it would be a common feeling amongst many of my readers, especially with the pandemic still hanging around long after we've all collectively slapped our knees and announced we have things on tomorrow.
To quell your curiosity whilst maintaining grace and respect for those involved, I'll just say I'm going through a loss of someone I grew to care about very deeply and due to a change in circumstances, I no longer have the option of reparations in person which is a blessing and a curse. And to make things quite clear before rumours spread, no, it isn't Matt. We are fine. But, to make it relatable to you, my dear reader, whomever you may be, we'll just call it grief.
Being January, and there being an insufferable collective expectation for fresh starts, positive change, and increased happiness, it almost feels like I'm breaking the rules by feeling like this. But as I write this, I'll admit that we almost always feel a sense of inappropriate irony whenever big emotions hit. I remember when my grandmother died, I was confused and angry that the sun was shining and that I could hear children's laughter. It just didn't seem to fit. When my Dad terminated our familial relationship, I was furious whenever I saw fathers playing with their children or whenever someone around me was annoyed at their father for demonstrating affection. Time seems to stop, your world has imploded right in front of your eyes so how come the second hand on your watch continues to tick? Why doesn't life stop? Why is the sun still shining? Surely the universe has got the memo that it's all over. It's done. I'm sure that's a common feeling. At least I hope it is.
This time, the feeling hit me slowly and then all at once. Unfortunately the slow part was over the weekend when I had time but as I woke up for work on Monday morning, the waves came crashing down. By half 8 in the morning, I'd had 4 panic attacks and had thrown up twice so needless to say, I didn't go in. I succumbed to everything and spent the day wrapped in a ball hyperventilating and crying. Which is fine for a day and I am not at all looking for sympathy. Extreme reactions to pain are an unfortunate side effect of an anxiety disorder. But the fact is, when I was at university, I could get away with staying in bed and hiding. But in the world of work, it's not really an option. So the only option is feigning equilibrium.
I walked into work on Tuesday and carried out the day as an almost out of body experience. I told my coworkers I was fine and that they didn't need to worry about me. They were polite enough to ignore the dark circles under my eyes and their red rims. I made the children laugh in the same ways as usual (if you're not caught up, I work in special schools now), I obsessively cleaned, I smiled, I listened, I kept going. Thinking about it now, it's almost laughable.
I will be fine eventually but I would argue that "losing my mind" rhymes with "fine" for a reason. I've cried until I ran out of tears, hit a record of 10 panic attacks in one day (I'm almost proud), and punched a pillow until my knuckles bruised. I didn't even know that was possible. And I have envied my students for their ability to scream until their voices are hoarse, and punch things. I feel like I want to join in. But I can't and for the purposes of every day interactions, I'm fine. Calm. Numb.
I appreciate that writing all of this down looks like a cry for help but to be honest, it isn't. And I haven't always had to be coping with loss to feel like this in the past. Living with anxiety, PTSD, and anorexia often feels like this. I have worried about my own sanity more times than I care to admit, and I often feel as though the calm, reassuring person many people have come know as me is just a character I play. And this is yet another reminder than mental illness in reality is not as sexy as the little soundbites and mood boards instagram will have you believing. It's a battle.
So why am I writing this? I suppose it's to remind myself and others that it's ok to feel like this. It's ok to feel hurt by people you love. It's ok to still love them despite what they've done. It's ok to fake it at work. It's ok to fake it with everyone if that's what you need right now. And it's ok to feel angry at the way you feel, and at everything else for a very long time. However you feel, I imagine more people than not are feigning equilibrium right now. If you have to bruise your knuckles on the sofa to get there? It's valid.
Much love to you from my own stormy scribblings. Thank you to those who are carrying me through right now and thank you to the ones being patient with me as I shut down communications for a while. Though if you're really desperate, you can reach me through the chat box on here.
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