The Job Interview

First of all, my apologies for not writing a blog for nearly a month.  The last few weeks have proved to be very busy and interesting for one main reason: I have a new job.  

My first day?

To refresh on the context, I have been working at my current employment since September 2008, so over five years.  In that time, I have been able to maximise my position; when I first started, I admit that the work I did, both amount and quality, was not enough to justify my salary (OK, the first four months was unpaid, but I mean most of say 2009).  However in the past year, it's been the opposite, and most of what I do is at a grade (or more, in some cases) higher.  I appreciate this is the case for most people, but in my case it's largely my fault.  I chose to specialise in a specific area and this has led me to regional and national conferences and showcasing work to various people.

And overall, I really enjoy my job.  When you take away all the rubbish that comes of working in a large organisation - like words I don't understand and hierarchy for example - the actual projects I've been working on have been really interesting and they have allowed me to flourish.  From an anxiety perspective, my confidence has been boosted through doing several presentations and forcing myself to speak to people who may have once made me uncomfortable.  I went through a particularly difficult time in 2011 (see previous blogs) which, although not caused by work, affected it but gladly I managed to get through that with time.  And particularly in the past year to 18 months, I feel I have made some good achievements outside the boundaries of my original remit.  

But of course, the one thing I will miss more than anything are some of the people.  People in such a large, and such a continuously restructured organisation come and go like taxis down a high street, but there have been some mainstays and some whom I can now call friends.  One of the biggest characters I have met is also leaving imminently, so in a way the timing of my moving on is a good one. But there will still be some great people that I will leave behind... some not so great granted, but these are well outweighed.

So if all is so rosy, why even look to change, especially given the fact that there aren't many jobs floating around at the moment?  Well firstly, this particular job that came up is for an organisation that I have worked with before and who I admire; I know a couple of the people there (which as we all know may have, at least in part, helped me get the job in the first place) and they are very nice.  Secondly, working for this organisation will give me better prospects, I believe, to continue working and progressing in my particular field.  In terms of pay, there's about a £1k increase but the commute will negate this so it'll be about the same.

But the main reason I've decided to apply and accept this job is because I need to challenge myself.  I initially applied thinking "I'd hope to get an interview, but I would be surprised if I got the job."  However, it was still worth applying because I'd never have a proper interview before, and as someone with anxiety this is a daunting situation.  So I felt, initially, that I needed to test myself with an interview, get some experience and most importantly, test my anxiety.

"Because at the end of the day, the interview itself isn't daunting. It's the anxiety I may have to face that's the hard part."

So i got the interview - immediate stomach churning when I heard - and luckily only had about five days to prepare for it.  I say luckily, because the longer I'd have had to prepare, the longer I would have had for rumination, thus heightening the anxiety.  So I worked on this five minute presentation I had to give, went through my covering letter and went through things that I didn't want them to ask, so as to prepare accordingly.  

The interview time was 2:40pm.  I wished it was 9:40am or something, to get it out of the way!  But I had to live with this, so I went to work that morning, simply because I needed to take my mind off it as best as I could.  Along with this, I had to put my anxiety-alleviating techniques to the test. Simple things like:

- Making only a few people aware of the interview, to take the pressure off - but enough people so that I can call them up if I needed assistance.
- Take anything with me that might help, e.g. my tablet (not to write blogs though!!), a newspaper, sugary foods and snacks, mp3 player etc.
- Focus on other people, what they are doing and saying... whilst trying not to be stalker-ish.
- Prepare logistics, e.g. train times etc so that I don't get stressed about anything like this.

I got to the interview venue about ten minutes early, and was called in ten minutes late - that total of 20 minutes was the hardest.  For the whole day, I'd felt physically challenged shall we say, but I'd always had things and techniques to occupy myself with.  That 20 minutes, sitting in their reception, I had to just wait.  Little to occupy my mind or my eyes.  I was just about able to focus on my breathing, but this was difficult at times.  

Then the moment of the interview - a small room, with three people sitting opposite me with papers and pens.  Two of them I knew, one I didn't... but knowing them didn't really help me at the time; if anything it made things worse.  I felt tight but most importantly in control, and managed to go through my presentation and interview well.  By the end I felt good, partially in relief that I'd done it and the anxiety was over but also because I felt that I did as good as I could have done.  The fact that I got the job, in this respect, was almost irrelevant on the basis that I went into the interview and, despite some (comparatively, compared to what I would have felt in years past) minor anxiety beforehand, came through it with relative ease.  

I found out I got the job the day after, which I was still surprised at.  I would have thought that at least one other person applying would have had more experience or been able to bullshit more than me.  Perhaps this is an organisation who liked me for me - I was my usual self during the interview, very incorporate and approachable (I hope!) - rather than an unnatural 'talk the talk' type person, which I can't do.  In my experience, people who do the latter often get jobs, but hopefully it's a good sign that this organisation employed someone who isn't like this - i.e., me.  

Granted, general experience is as much of a reason I could say the following statement.  But a couple of years ago, I couldn't have even considered applying for this job, because I would have been in no fit state to go to an interview from an anxiety perspective.  Yes I still had some anxiety, but it was almost - almost - a 'normal' amount of anxiety, i.e. that most people without a chronic condition would have experienced.  The main success came via rationalisation, something that sounds so blindingly obvious but is often so hard to put into practice.  

OK, so I'm in a position where, if I'd not have got this job, or more importantly, if I couldn't have gone through with the interview, it wouldn't have mattered because I still have a job to go back to.  The pressure was therefore not as high as what it could be for some people who are starting out.  But even still, such basic techniques that I've learnt from over 50+ sessions of CBT have helped me turn what would have not so long ago been an impossible, almost dangerous challenge to one I achieved with comparative calm and, ultimately, success. 

I suppose in summary, I am advocating talking therapy and showing that it can help you achieve things in life that many people take for granted.  That's one thing I'm not doing here.

Of course, the challenge for me has only just begun.  The new job itself will bring about new challenges.  The work itself, for one, meeting new people, for two, a daily hour-long train journey, for three... and most of all, this is the first job that I am expected to go into knowing what I'm doing.  So the pressure will be on, and it's up to me to handle that using the same and other techniques that I have learnt.  I will no doubt keep this blog up to date with progress.

My other fear is losing some of the people I have met.  As I've said before, the power of other people and friends in helping to indirectly alleviate anxiety is massive and leaving some of them behind will be hard, especially as I will be working in a much smaller organisation where the opportunity to meet people will be more limited.  But again, it's up to me to take control and ensure that this doesn't happen by keeping in touch with people and making the effort with new ones. Who knows, this could be the best move I've ever made and, either way, it's certainly a challenge I need to undertake for my own development.

Best wishes
Al

Talking about Talking Therapies

On the odd occasion that someone asks me about my experiences with talking therapies, I can never just give a short, straight answer (you'll be delighted to know).  My chronic anxiety has led me down various talking therapy avenues in my life, usually at the lowest points when I just couldn't handle the condition on my own anymore.  They have all given me different experiences. 

I've had five separate talking therapy sessions in the past, all for various different elements of anxiety, that temporally go something like this:

·              NHS counselling: 1997

·              University counselling: 2006

·              NHS counselling: 2007

·              Private CBT: 2009

·              Private CBT: 2011-12

I was only 11-ish years old when I accessed the first batch of counselling in 1997, so I'll bypass that for fear of not recalling memories about it coherently.  However, out of the other four, I can confidently state that only the latter of the talking therapies listed above was 'successful' for me. 

We, too, sat in a massive hand

The University counselling, which consisted of just one session with the university's therapist, only came about because it took over ten months to see the NHS counsellor listed subsequently and I was simply getting impatient.  I contacted the NHS for an appointment in about September 2006 and didn't get to see the counsellor, after numerous cancelled appointments, until about July 2007, by which time I'd actually come through the worst of the current situation myself, simply by the gift of time.

So not only was the counselling ineffective for this reason, but also because the counsellor in question was not very sympathetic, to say the least.  I appreciate it's not sympathy you need in dealing with such circumstances, but it got to the point where he didn't appear to appreciate my situation or what I was going through.  I felt bitterly let down by this and consequently I haven't been back to NHS therapy since.

By 2009, I thought that the majority of my anxiety had dissipated (although now I know it hadn’t, but that's a separate story).  However, I still wanted to conquer my fear of eating out which had persisted for many years.  It was crippling my social life and I needed to sort it out quickly, so I sought out my own help via the Internet and found a local private CBT therapist. 

Sadly, successes here are also hard to tease out.  I saw her within two weeks of contacting, which of course was a huge improvement, but the therapist was more concerned with finding out why I had the eating problem rather than trying to deal with it.  I've since learnt that I wasn't really getting CBT, and I knew when we spent one session purely focusing on dolphin noises that I wasn't getting anywhere useful with this.  Despite it being a private therapist, I was also limited to a maximum of about eight sessions, which again I now know was nowhere near an adequate amount for me. 

My anxiety as a whole took an awful turn in March 2011 (see previous blogs) and so followed what was probably the lowest period I’ve ever had in my life – I needed help.  I knew going down the NHS therapist line wasn't going to help me and I was also more wary about the 'randomly selecting a private therapist' route.  I was in despair and spent ages searching for some sort of solace on the Internet, which as with most things these days became the fountain of all knowledge.

That's when I stumbled across Anxiety UK, a charity that offers private therapy sessions.  The therapists themselves may work for the NHS by day, but some take up private clients out of hours, as was the case with me.  At the time, I was struggling to even make it out of the house and there was no local therapist.  So I utilised their option of therapy via webcam.  Within two weeks of contacting Anxiety UK, I had my first appointment arranged... and that's considering some unfortunate admin issues without which would have meant it would have been even quicker! 

So I undertook webcam therapy with a CBT therapist from Scotland, whilst I live hundreds of miles away in the Midlands, and although there were one or two restrictions compared to more conventional talking therapies, it was great.  One thing my therapist did say is that "I can't put you into a totally anxious state, lest I can't adequately get you out again" whereby inducing an anxious state is, of course, aimed to help with progress.  There were also one or two technical problems too, as you'd expect.  But overall, it was a success.

Although of course, the biggest success wasn't whether it was via webcam or not; the biggest success was the therapist herself.  We struck up a great relationship which aided my recovery as much as my actual therapy did.  I had around 50 sessions in total, which goes to prove how much therapy I actually needed, but as you will gather from this, I was able to have as many sessions as I wanted.  We phased out the frequency of the sessions after about the 40th which meant it was a gradual close off rather than a sudden one, helping to minimise the likelihood of a relapse.  And most importantly, what I was getting was actual CBT, the actual treatment that I asked for, which made me realise that what I received before wasn't.

The therapy I received in 2011-12 has really helped to turn my life around.  When it first started, I couldn't see a way out of my lowest point, but with the hard work on top of the number of sessions I had, I'm now much more confident about facing my anxiety and, indeed, writing about it.  The only medication I’ve ever been on is beta-blockers; I’ve never been prescribed any anti-depressants, so as to suggest that one can gain real success from talking therapy without the need for heavy medication.

I grant you that I had to pay for this therapy, which of course I appreciate isn't always an option for everyone.  But if you are able to put some money aside to afford therapy, then I'd strongly urge you towards professional, knowledgeable and empathetic charities like Anxiety UK and Mind first, as they will guide you on the best course of action to take.  My experiences suggest that spending a little bit of time - perhaps more than you'd like if you're in an extremely low point - is well worth the effort in the longer run, in terms of getting the best help for you.

Best wishes

Al

Sharing Experiences III

Eating a burger doesn't necessarily seem like a challenging prospect, but that's the problem with anxiety - it's often the most trivial situations - ones that most people take for granted - that cause the biggest problems.  In fact most people don't take such things for granted because they won't ever need to... eating a burger would never be an issue. 

May contain horse

As I've mentioned in previous blogs, eating out has always been a problem for me, and in summary the more 'pressure' I feel that there is on me, rational or not, the more difficult things turn out.  Two good examples of when eating out has been a nightmare include:

1) When I went for a series of meals out with one of my friends.  ONE being the operative word... Because there was nowhere to hide, it put more pressure on me and thus affected my eating.

2) A visit with a friend to a B&B in the Lake District.  This 3-night break was all but destroyed by the first breakfast.  The woman serving breakfast was very brash to say the least and after the third breakfast even made an observational comment about me not eating much.  The problem with B&Bs is that it feels like there is pressure to eat things, and the subsequent anxiety that I got from this ruined the rest of the holiday, as eating everywhere then caused problems.

I'll come onto the burger incident in a moment.  But what actually happens when I've eaten out - what sort of feelings do I experience?

Well, for a start, the anxious feelings can start days before the meal itself.  The thoughts about a meal could start months before if, for example, a Christmas meal has been organised in advance.  On the day of the meal, I basically feel very anxious, or 'close to a panic attack.' This, of course, makes you feel physically poor anyway and couple this with health anxiety and you have a concoction of... not wanting to eat much, or indeed, not being able to stomach much.  So when it came to the meal itself, my breathing was shallow (coupled with bad sinuses) and my stomach was churning, the LAST thing you feel like doing is eating.  Consequently, I've struggled through a fifth of the meal when the other person/people has/have finished, over-analysing every mouthful.  I get to a point when I can simply do no more and I give in, trying my best to hide what is left on my plate.

This sort of thing has happened numerous times, but one of the worst times was a night out I organised for my birthday in 2010.  Even though at the time I was struggling with eating out generally, I still decided to hold a big night out in Birmingham that started with... yes you guessed it, a meal at Nandos.  Usually, the bigger the crowd during a meal the better, because I can hide and people aren't focusing on me.  However, this was MY birthday, and what's more, it was a strange combination of friends who came for one reason or another - i.e. there were less 'safe' people there.

So, after weeks of dread and despair - yes, instead of excitement which of course it should be before a birthday do - the meal arrives and sure enough, I am panicking by the time the food arrives.  Everyone will have noticed, but the two things that stuck out in my mind was one person saying to my other friend (supposedly out of earshot) 'is he ok, he hasn't eaten anything,' and the person sitting next to me asking me why.  I think I said "I've been a bit ill recently" which, if classing anxiety as an illness, isn't far from the truth. 

But then it went from bad to worse.  The more people who noticed the worse I got, and then during about the fifth painfully slow chew on a piece of burger, I began to choke. It was so bad that I had to excuse myself to the toilet and phone my friend from there to come and assist me.  Unfortunately, rather than bring me water he brought me my half-glass of beer, which didn't really help...

Eventually, the choking dissipated, and in the end I actually used this incident as an excuse not to eat any more food!  Although in fairness, it wouldn't be easy for anyone if they too had choked.

But of course, the choking wouldn't have happened at all had I ate like a 'normal' person.  I remember my good friend saying that one of her friends who witnessed the incident asked whether I had some sort of eating disorder.  At first I always thought that's what it was, but of course I've since learnt it's all down to some bizarre anxiety that to this day still baffles me a bit.

I'm pleased to say I'm going through a better phase now, but I still don't look forward to eating out in certain situations.  Over the last year, the hardest meal was my birthday again, due to the fact that in my head, all eyes were on me and I couldn't 'escape.'

This incident in Birmingham frightened me.  Not just because I thought I might choke to death; not just because I thought my friends would think I was ill or strange, but also because I wondered where on earth I could go from here in future.

The message is this - anxiety can affect things that others just do without thinking, like eating.  The best - but most difficult - thing I think is to not let it get to you.  Accept that anxiety can do this and seek the appropriate help.  Make things as comfortable for yourself as possible in any situation; so when eating a meal out, I always order a separate glass of water, wear loose trousers, remember to breathe between bites, order the thing I prefer to eat the most and so on.  Every little helps.

And also get a friend ready who doesn't bring you half a beer to you when you're on the verge of asphyxiation.

Best wishes

Al

Sums It Up...

I wasn't sitting like this though

I am happy to report that life in my new house is going well.  There have been a couple of anxious moments around food (i.e. have a cooked things properly and if not will I die from food poisoning... i.e. health anxiety...) but beyond that so far it has been a success.  I will update in more detail soon.

However, one thing that sums up my life is that I was just in the communal area with two of my housemates, and within a minute was left alone in there after they both received phone calls from their respective partners.  Nothing wrong with that of course, but it just made me realise how isolated my troubles have made me over the years, and how a combination of anxiety causing and be caused by loneliness can just cause a spiralling downfall.

More on my house and sharing experiences to come soon...

Best wishes
Al

The Stigma Still Exists

A loaded title, but a truthful one.  And I'm specifically referring to me being frightened of telling people about my mental health problems, because I assume they will stigmatise.  How bad is this?

Speaks for itself.

Let me start my explaining what it is that I would tell someone who asked me to tell them 'about myself.'  So:

Q: Tell me about yourself.
A: "OK, well my name is Al, I have the same name as a well-known comedian, I'm 26, I'm from Stafford and I work for the council and have done so for 5 years.  I went to Uni and did Geography and my hobbies include making electronic music, football, swimming and socialising with my friends."

How many people would then bolt on the following sentence:

"I have lived with chronic anxiety for over 15 years."

Let alone the detail that would annotate this sentence if described in full.  

Now OK, I'm sure you'd argue that if you had just had cancer you probably wouldn't add on an equivalent sentence stating the fact.  But surely after you get to know someone after a few weeks, it would probably come out that you've had cancer, because you wouldn't be scared of telling someone this.  There's no stigma around cancer.  OK, you could argue that if you got lung cancer and smoked 50 a day then there's a stigma of blame, but generally its accepted as something which we'd be happy to talk about.  Even in that latter scenario, you'd probably say '... it's my fault really, because of all the cigarettes I've had in my lifetime," and people would accept that as you've acknowledged the situation. 

If this sounds like I'm trivialising cancer in some way by the way, of course I'm not.  It's purely for comparative purposes.  Replace cancer with anything else physical and the result will often be the same.  Embarrassment at worst.  And when I say 'something else physical,' I'm not referring to self-harming or any external physical symptoms that a mental illness could generate.  But there would still be a stigma around explaining these, rather than just an embarrassment (at worst).  

I think this blog so far shows how my mind is pulling one way then the other on this subject, proving how difficult I'm finding it to discuss it coherently.

The rest is just opinion and what I feel.  And for reference, when I say 'people,' I generally mean close people (friends, family etc) unless specified.

If I had a physical illness, I'd almost want to tell people so I could get help and support (and probably sympathy).  You need to do the same for anxiety or any other mental illness, but it often takes so much longer to open up to someone about a mental illness.  Why?

OK, so you could argue that it's because (a) physical illnesses can be more obvious to someone else so there's nowhere to hide and (b) your need to tell someone may appear more urgent, in the case of requiring treatment quickly.  But often this isn't the case.  I lay my cards on the table; I think I'd be more comfortable telling someone about a chronic physical illness, rather than a mental one (although I can't prove this having, luckily, not suffered from a chronic physical illness).

So, back to the original question: why?  The answer?  Stigma.

Not exactly groundbreaking.  But again, this is stigma that I may (or may not) have made up in my head... how do I know what people are going to react like when I tell them about my mental health problem?  How do I know that they will judge me, change their behaviour around me, or something else?  How do I know that they won't understand?  

My point is, these questions shouldn't be valid.  I shouldn't be frightened of opening up about the anxiety I've experienced, and neither should anyone else about their mental health problem.  OK, so I'm not proposing you introduce yourself, as per the start of this blog, by saying "I've suffered with chronic anxiety for 15 years," but no-one should be scared or reluctant to tell people about it given time.  I still am, even despite having it for so long, despite what I've learnt, despite this blog, I'm still playing into the stigma's hands.  I'm just so pleased that now, more than ever, people and charities are doing a lot of great work to try and change this.  I know I need to step up and do more, especially around the workplace, but most of all, for myself I need to be more confident of breaking through the stigma.

Anxiety has made me stronger, not weaker.

#TimetoTalk

Best wishes
Al

Social Anxiety and Confidence

So this blog links with the ones that have gone previously - this moving out lark really is testing my social anxiety and my confidence generally. 

Let me start by saying that this is a good thing; I am glad that I am being tested because this is what I need to build my confidence and develop me as a person.  It's about time; I'm 26 years old now and I need to be able to move forward with my life from a social perspective and finally break out of this anxious prison.

I sometimes wear full body lycra to hide myself

This new life that I have now found upon, thanks to lots of trying to find a suitable place to live, is now over 3 weeks old and although it is still far too soon to judge how this will pan out, I am pleased to report that the people who I'm living with are certainly making my life more sociable than it was previously.  But this, of course, is where the test comes in.  

In social situations, I have been known to change as a person.  This isn't something I do on purpose, but it is something that I do simply because my confidence flies out the window.  I agree with anything that others say.  I laugh uncomfortably.  I think a lot of it is fear of offending someone, or fear of looking boring by not really knowing or caring what someone is talking about.  I also hate under any circumstances to sound like I'm bragging, and I feel like this even if someone has asked me what achievements I have.  I talk them down as though they aren't significant just so I don't appear this way.

What doesn't help is that I just don't think I've been in enough social situations over time to have helped me learn what to do.  I often struggle to know what to say and have my own self-struggle which is to make myself sound interesting or be funny.  Why is 'being myself' so difficult?  I think it's because of my desperation to finally fit in and be accepted in a social situation, and to potentially bring things up that other people may find boring or uninteresting or strange I still deem too risky in my quest to fit in.  But how I can possibly make up in my own head what is boring or strange anyway?  Confident people tell other people, however well they know them, all about themselves, whether the recipient finds it 'interesting' or not.  So why can't I?

I've also noticed myself laughing at things other people say, usually when I don't really understand what they are talking about. This is effectively a defence mechanism so that I appear interested.  

This is in contrast to how I am with my friends... very relaxed (well, as relaxed or indeed RELAXED (see a recent blog) as I can be) and myself which is crucial.  Of course, this is the case for most people; you are naturally more relaxed and open with people you know better etc.  But I over-analyse every other contact I have with everyone else, everything said.  I dwell on anything I feel may have either offended someone else or where I feel I've looked stupid or arrogant.  It plays on my mind for such a long time afterwards.

Is this all part of social anxiety?  It would make sense if this over-analysis was part of anxiety, as it is largely irrational which, of course, is what anxiety is.  It's also true that I often walk around on eggshells if I'm with other people who I'm not comfortable with - that's what happened when I moved into the new house, and indeed still does at time.  This of course raises anxiety levels generally.

I need to learn to be comfortable and confident in myself, something very difficult after spending years struggling with anxiety and the huge negative impact it has on self-esteem and confidence in the first place.  And of course, like the chicken and the egg, it's quite feasible that a low self-esteem, whatever the reason for it manifesting, helped emphasise the anxiety in the first place.

I appreciate this is more of a ramble than a blog, but sometimes it's difficult to get thoughts down coherently.  Maybe next time there'll be less bla bla bla bla.... bla [laugh uncomfortably]

Best wishes
Al

Time to Move On 4 - 10 Days On...

It is difficult to emphasise how big a step moving house is for someone with anxiety, or with any mental health problem I would wager.  I'm not saying it's easy for anyone, but it can disrupt your life so much that anxiety can come and go as quick and a fiercely as a high speed train.  All the hard work you may have put in goes out the window.

As the last blog suggested.

Graph of how the last 11 days have panned out

As it also suggested, I was very low when I wrote that blog.  The potential for the housemates to be great people didn't seem to matter, the independence likewise.  All the hard work I put in to manage my anxiety went flying into space and the depression came crashing down like a meteor.  Think of the move as like an earthquake; a disruption to what was a relatively stable tectonic plate (or in this case, stable time of my life) and a sudden shift, causing an initial crash and then several slightly less severe aftershocks, but occurring frequently.

I was in a situation where I felt I just needed time out.  I have spent pretty much all of my life, at best, on edge, at worst in an excruciating panic, but for the last 7-8 months (since I moved out of my previous house share) I was RELAXED.  OK, so not totally RELAXED; I can never claim to be that.  But comparative to the rest of my life, I was RELAXED.  Bored, at times, and frustrated but RELAXED.  It only dawned on me after I moved again how much I missed that and how important it really was to actually feel RELAXED.  RELAXED is in capitals by the way to emphasise that this is not a sensation I'm used to.

So why on earth would I do anything to disrupt this?  Well of course, at the time, I didn't realise how much I valued being RELAXED, so it wasn't until I wasn't RELAXED again that I realised how much I was enjoying it.  Tedium at times possibly, but I was... you know the next bit.

For the first few days of living here, I craved this to a point of depression.  The first few days were very hard, as the last blog will no doubt have depicted.  So what now?

Ten days on is a difficult time to judge.  It's far too early to make any significant judgements, but at the same time it's beginning to become the reality.  It's also true that the longer I stay here not RELAXED, the longer it would be for me to recover and go back to being RELAXED again.  But of course the last thing I want to do is make any rash decisions.

However, I am pleased to report that ten days on, things have markedly improved, which the rational amongst you will have predicted anyway.  I'm certainly not RELAXED, but that horrible depression has gone and the anxiety has certainly alleviated from a week or so ago.  To put it bluntly, forcing myself to stick with it has helped.  My parents have been away this week, so 'home' offered no real help or form of escape, other than the RELAXED surroundings.  My folks being away, although you could argue they chose the worst possible week, was probably, in fact, the best possible week.  I'm been made to stick at it, as the carrot of temptation wasn't dangling there 4 miles away.  

Combining this forcefulness with a mixture of familiar things has also helped.  Ensuring I look after myself by eating properly (something which has also become easier as I become more confident with people that I am crap at cooking and not caring about it), and doing all of the ablutions I did when I was elsewhere.  By keeping in touch with familiar people, and my mate who lives with me being here all the time since I moved in has also helped.  

The best thing - the people I'm living with seem great.  The three plus months of house searching appears to have been worth it.  

The big question now is - what happens next?  A period of stability hopefully, before maybe kicking on into more ambitious territory, like actual genuine enjoyment and fulfilment.  OK, let's not get carried away.  One step at a time is hugely important.

The main objective - to become as RELAXED here as I was at home, with the added benefit for having more social activity and interaction a good aim to work to.

How this weaves around anxiety is the key, and of course no doubt I will blog about this on here.  But for now, lessons to take away:

- Stick with it; short term pain and all that.  

- Don't be afraid of being yourself in front of other people.  That might not be the deepest personal stuff, but just general day to day things.

- Try and embrace the new, but keep hold of the 'old' just as tightly, and remember it is there if required.  

- People - they are the best medicine.

I'm no expert of course, this is merely me scribbling things down as I think of them, in terms of what has helped me so far.  Bigger challenges may be to come, greater tests... let's see what gets thrown my way.

At this point, I'd like to thank anyone who has helped me these past 10 days.  You know who you are.

Best wishes
Al

Time to Move On 3 - The Fall Out

So as you'll be aware, if you follow this blog, I moved out of my parents' house for only the second time on Monday, two days ago.  This was designed to test me and of course allow me to progress with my life, move forward and become more sociable. 

But I'm sorry to say that anxiety has taken over.

This apparently depicts 'flatmates'

Naturally, the morning of day 1 I was feeling anxious but controllably so; it was more of a 'nervous' feeling with a bit extra.  My parents and I arrived at the house early afternoon, and as soon as they left a wave of unbearable depression came over me.  I don't use the term 'anxiety' lightly and I wouldn't use the term 'depression' lightly either.  I'm grateful that I have never had long-term depression, and I can't begin to imagine what feeling like this long-term can be like.  But it is definitely depression; I had it when I moved to the previous house at first too, but this time I was less prepared for it, because I was meant to look forward to this move.

But I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised.  I was there, on my own, entering an unknown world which could go incredibly well or incredibly badly (because everything seems black and white in these situations).  I was on the verge of tears whilst unpacking and wondering why I was doing this to myself.  I went shopping which was a tedious exercise but at least meant I was occupied.  Not too long after I got back, I spoke to a new housemate who is very nice and good to get along with, and then my friend arrived. This improved things a bit for obvious distraction reasons, but then it was time for food.

Food and me, as I'm sure I'll have explained before, don't get along.  If I get remotely anxious, I struggle to eat.  It usually happens when I go out, but of course, living in a new place this is effectively eating out.  I ate in the communal area but struggled to eat the food; I managed about half before I decided it wasn't worth struggling any more.  I confided in my mate which also helped - I've learnt to talk about the hard times to trusted people - and I also emailed another friend, and this has helped.  Getting all the support that I can at times like this is vital.  Being open is a crucial part of getting through moments like this.

Then a night of poor sleep occurred.  The first time I woke up I was in panic mode; breathing was very difficult and if I hadn't been so emotionally exhausted it could have spiralled into something worse, but I ended up falling asleep again after a while.  I woke up 3 more times before waking up for the final time.  I expected a poor night's first sleep in a new place so this didn't bother me, but that empty, lonely feeling still hadn't gone away.

What didn't help is that I had to do a presentation for work at 9am yesterday morning - day 2.  It also involved travelling by train, but it was only 20 minutes away so I managed to get through this with few problems.  I was still exhausted so in a perverse way this may have helped.  

The presentation was 30 minutes and on my only specialist subject; it turned out that this 30 minutes was the best I'd felt all day and best I've felt since.  Presentations used to be another source of anxiety, or at best an anxiety amplifier, but this one actually seemed to help, possibly because I was focused on a subject I'm comfortable with and it atmosphere seemed quite 'relaxed.'  The rest of the day at work was fine, even better was the two hours after it which was spent catching up with a friend who I hadn't seen for ages, who was at the conference at which I did the aforementioned presentation.  

Going back to the house was tolerable at this time; the new housemate was there and we had a bit of a chat, and my mate then came back so we obviously caught up.  Dinner was still difficult though; my tolerance towards food declines as I cook it, and by the time it comes to eating it I don't feel good.  Telling my mate about it took the pressure off though, which did help.  The rest of the evening, I still felt low but it was manageable.

Day 3 - swimming, then work which was fine.  I ate lunch with work friends and perhaps unsurprisingly this went well.  I was comfortable!  I was fine in the office for the rest of the day too, but then as I approached the house, that same wave of depression came over me again, followed by another difficult teatime.  

Unhelpfully, I keep asking myself 'why should I be feeling like this?'  So far, it's been very difficult.  My anxiety and mental health problems of 16+ years is really testing me.  I've been through enough of these feelings already in my life to last me more than one full lifetime, and if nothing else I'm just fed up with it now.  I expected this to test me, actually I hoped it would, but not to the extent of this.  

I appreciate it's early days, and that's what I keep telling myself.  This could still be the best move I've ever made, and could really fulfil my life and in time, reduce my anxiety. 

But moving in with the intention of meeting more people has ironically made me feel more alone at the moment.  This is the biggest test of how far I've come for a long time.  I will no doubt update this blog with how things go.

Best wishes
Al