Breaking the Silence: Why I haven’t been writing.

Fortune & Cupcakes has been very quiet for a long time now. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with it, and as I read more and more blogs I realise that I lack the time, resource and skills to make my little blog anything amazing.

However, I thought about why I created the blog in the first place- an attempt to write my thoughts and also distract myself from a pretty terrible breakup- or why I continued writing long after I’d gotten over that person. I still write because it helps me. It helps me understand my thoughts and creates order in my brain.

So, if I have found solace in writing for my blog, and if the blog has been helping me, then why the silence?

This year has seen some huge changes for me. I started a new job, I moved into a new flat, I stopped my long term therapy, I started short term therapy, I started regular exercise. I made so many positive steps yet still my brain is really having a difficult time in coping with the pressures of everyday life.

I’ve been embarrassed to admit that I am still struggling with so many things. I’ve developed terrible anxiety, where I can’t sleep and my heart constantly races, and at its worst I’m too worried to go outside, which has become quite hard to manage. My depression has floored me for days at a time, where I can’t move much, eat the right things, look after myself in the most basic ways and sometimes I spiral into really difficult dark thoughts. I’m currently suffering a real spike in my BPD, where I am beginning to cut people out of my life who I care about, because I am convinced that their life would only be better without a friendship with me, and I need to prepare for a lonely life (because I’m convinced I will have nothing else).

But, why is it so difficult? I love my flat, I have a great flatmate, I am learning a lot in my new job. On the surface, since I decided to make these changes I achieved so many things I wanted to by this point, and I just have to keep moving forwards in my new career. But I wanted a life where I was thriving in my late 20s- I imagined an active social life, making the most of what my city has to offer. I wanted to bake, and host Sunday brunches with orange juice and pastries, and cook wholesome dinners for my friends. Perhaps this is what happens when you sit inside and watch too many episodes of a certain ‘scripted reality’ TV Show and Netflix originals!

I wonder what went wrong, and why I am still so sad. I worry I’m stuck, and I’m defined by all of these diagnoses, and I seem to be racking them up. Depression, anxiety, PTSD, BPD- acronyms galore. Then I remembered something really simple: that I am ill, and illness sometimes doesn’t need a cause or reason.

For the first time I’ve realised that I’m struggling to cope with things as a result of my illness, rather than bad things are causing it. My brain is working against me, because it’s not functioning quite how it is supposed to. I feel overwhelmed quickly because I only have so much mental energy. I get nervous at work sometimes because my anxiety is being very active on certain days. I can’t see myself as having any real friendships because my BPD convinces me that none of my relationships are real, and it’s also better to be far away from people because then I can cause less hurt.

This difficult episode is taking quite a long time to pass. There have been times when I’ve felt lighter and more content with my life, and I’ve noticed these are the times when I’ve really invested in quality time for myself. I’m spending a lot of time on my own at the moment, as I’m struggling with socialising and being around people. But those times where I’ve listened to myself and given myself what I’ve needed- a long bath, reading a new book, watching a movie, going out for coffee, catching up with my chores- has helped me a lot. It sounds so simple, and part of me imagines everyone else is just brilliant at this. But I’m trying to become more comfortable and at ease with myself, and trying to dispel some of the self loathing I have which convinces me I’m not worthy of such care and attention.

I recently went on a trip to Carcassonne in France, and spent three lovely nights in my own company. Sometimes I spiralled and sometimes I wished there was someone to share the memories and experiences with. But mostly I was content in my company, reading books whilst drinking coffee or wine, watching people walk past, trying the delicious foods, buying fresh produce from the market and exploring the medieval city. I’m trying to remember that, although one day I may have a somebody to share memories with, experiencing things fully and wholly for and with yourself is a magical thing.

So, I’m not putting myself under any pressure to constantly maintain this blog, however I am enjoying writing again. It makes me feel more connected with my often chaotic emotions and thoughts, and I hope it can be one of my coping mechanisms going forward.

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