As I’m writing this, I’m on the phone to L, listening to him singing and rambling on about old blog posts. Really, it’s a great way to start my first post of 2018, the first post or second – after I became an adult – and my first after my unplanned, temporary, panic-stricken ‘hiatus’. Typically, I’m having trouble writing, either because I haven’t written in so long or because I’m scared that if I start writing, I’ll have that thing I had in the counselling session yesterday where I couldn’t stop.
I’ve realised I haven’t written properly, about my day, my life, in about a month. I miss it. So perhaps, casually, I’ll start screaming about mocks and worry and counselling and wow, here we go!
Just a note – this turned out quite negative. I want you to remember that if you ever need anyone to talk to or any support, you can find links at the bottom of this post. Alternatively, find a family member, friend or someone impartial who you can speak to.
On Monday and Wednesday, I had mocks. Monday was Psychology – the best one; then English – from Hell; History – which blessed me and cursed me in equal measure and English again – which I wanted to burn and turn into fire whilst I ran away screaming. So, that went well.
My counsellor asked me yesterday to explain how I’ve been feeling over the last week: it was my first fixed session of 12 and I had a fair bit of trouble talking then too. She was lovely and helped me to feel relaxed, like somebody really cared. Talking about it chronologically helped. I’ll start from there because right now, I feel very disconnected from everything and everyone because I haven’t been talking. This will be unstructured and mammoth; it’s mostly just to tell you how I’ve been feeling. You could probably read each paragraph separately; it’ll be that disjointed.
Since about Friday, possibly even earlier, I worked 6 hours – even more sometimes – each day. I went to bed so late because I started working late as I couldn’t get up the motivation. I kept on getting distracted and when I sat myself down, I worked and worked until I felt like I’d collapse. I couldn’t think afterwards, bone-tired from thinking too hard, copying out too many notes, being too unproductive. I disappointed myself at the end of the day, trying to be pleased with what I could do under pressure, forgetting that this – as I said to the counsellor – was more work than I’d done in a year.
I started lying to teachers, so desperately afraid of what they’d say if they found out how behind I was in their class. I started thinking of myself as an awful person, deep down despising myself, not realising that it was understandable and that leads me onto my next paragraph of shouting about how confused I am. What else is new?
I’m having a huge crisis over the future. Tomorrow, I’ll be writing a post on it but long story short, I’m questioning what I want to do on a huge level. Being in year 13, this puts me in a difficult position but luckily, I’m not applying to university this year so it gives me some time. However, I still feel kind of cut loose and directionless; I wouldn’t change that for the world though.
I talked about this all with my counsellor yesterday in the 50 minute session we had, words tumbling and exploding out of me like I’ve not been able to speak for years. Perhaps that was true: I’ve always spoken about how I feel, but not why. It’s mostly me blocking myself: I ignore reasons behind my feelings, knowing I feel panicked because of work but not understanding how to solve it because the reasons all go back years. Like now, I’m shouting onto this post with no sense of understanding how I feel and I know this will come with more counselling sessions but it makes me feel like everything stretches into the distance but I can’t move forward. Unstructured, like these sentences and all of my words and the fact that I’ve come back to blogging and all I can write about is panic.
I want to fill this space with positivity; I’ve not been so good at that lately. Positive, beautiful things have happened but because of my inability to process them, I can’t talk about them here as much. Maybe at some point later, when I can think about something other than work; maybe I’ll truly come to terms with the fact that not everyone thinks I’m ridiculous, still a child, small and directionless. Perhaps they’re partly true but I’m far more than just that.
This has been a mess but I didn’t want to come back and tell you all a lie. In good conscience, I couldn’t have told you that all my structures of thought were neat, tidy, orderly. I may be an adult but “adults” still make mistakes and don’t know how to process their emotions (like I’d know, only having been one for 12 days). Anyhow, I feel almost guilty for making you read this cluttered “thing”.
Maybe nobody will read this – and maybe I’m being attention-seeking in saying that. I think I’ll post this, humming along to terrible music, breathe and calm down until I can organise my thoughts. I’ll read posts, talk to people – and it’ll be okay.
I think, in a way, this has got me back into writing. I end writing this post whilst still listening to L singing and occasionally screeching along myself. This is what friendship is; this is what I deserve; I need to stop holding myself back for fear that I’m not good enough.
You’re only not good enough to yourself if you don’t let yourself be.
How have you all been this last week?
Love from Elm 🙂
P.S: I can’t work out if this is the most “unprofessional” thing I’ve ever written Probably not – my 2015 posts were quite something.