Like clouds across the sky.

I am so fickle when it comes to my emotions. I have had moments of such plain sailing that I wish for something, anything, to make a splash whether it be happy or sad. In these moments I forget how exhausting it is to be either. I forget quite how dark dark moments can be. I think, "have my emotions gone now? Will I be flat-lining forever? Did I use everything up?". The answer is, of course, no. And as soon as I stop "flat-lining" on feelings and dip below into something unpleasant, I wish once more for the sense of being just 'okay'.

It is hard to accept any status of being. When I am happy I fear for the end of the happiness, when I am excited I wonder about possible disappointment, when I am sad I wish desperately for it to be over, when I am neutral I forget all of that. I wonder what would happen if I just was. If I just listened and observed, or simply allowed any feeling that I might have, would I enjoy and appreciate it more? Or, with feelings that are uncomfortable, if I stopped trying to fight them would they dissipate quicker?

I have been trying to forgive myself recently, and trying to be kind, and trying to let myself be. If I sink low I try and say "Yes, that's okay. That's normal. Just let it be".  And most of the time it works. It comes and goes. I let it in, and then it leaves me more peacefully that if I had tried to put up a fight.

The same goes for moments of lightness, if I let it come in, if I don't question or analyse it,  I find it stays for longer, it is more enjoyable. I ignore my thoughts when they say, "why are you happy? Let me find all the sad things. Remember the turmoil? Should that come back? Remember why you were sad? When will this end? Happiness doesn't last!"

I think it is working. I feel softer, more at peace. Even the moments of turmoil feel less sharp when they come and go. Even the moments of plain sailing, the flat-lining, the neutrality of feeling, they feel calm and gentle. If I just stop and observe, or if I just let it be, I feel the tension drain away and I watch as all these different colours and feelings wave in and out like clouds across the sky.

Sitting with the pain.

Some days there is no other choice but to sit with whatever discomfort has settled in your chest. Some days the emotion you are experiencing feels like actual physical pain and there is nothing to do but let it wave through you. It might feel like you are drowning, but eventually the wave is going to spit you back out onto the shore. You just have to relax, close your eyes, and wait for the moment to pass. Even if that moment lasts for days, it will end.

I say this like it is easy. I say this like the feeling of helplessness does not emphasise the pain with additional rising panic. I say this like my instinct is not to fight, even when there is nothing to fight, even when the only option is to let time heal.

Time takes so long to heal, but when I look back it will be no time at all.

Today I have sat with such pain. It is still there. I needed to write this down just to say that I have sat with pain all day. I needed to call into the void (that is not the void but instead filled with so many lovely people) and say hello? is anyone there? i have felt so much pain today. 

And as soon as I write that down, as soon as I hit 'publish', I know the pain will go away a little bit. Just a little bit. At least there is one way to take away some of its power.

My brain is a bad friend.

I think it was Deborah Frances-White who did a skit on 'The Guilty Feminist' podcast in which she imagined that the negative voice inside her head was her psychopathic room-mate. It sounded like a thriller. No person would ever speak to another human like that, let alone someone they loved and cared about.

I remembered this the other day when I was imagining what it would be like if I said the horrible things I can say to myself to my friends. The result would be that I would have approximately zero friends afterwards and it would be completely understandable. Imagine, for example, if a friend came to me straight after a breakup and I said "Well, of course this means that you will never, ever find love again and you will suffer with this heartache for the rest of your life. Also, you must have done something to deserve it because you are probably not worthy of being loved." Rightly so that friend would likely back away slowly and never return.

The thing is, not only would I never, ever say that to a friend, or even a stranger, I wouldn't actually believe it. I have complete and utter faith that every single person in my life is not only worthy of love, happiness and success in whatever form that might take but also that they will inevitably find those things throughout their lives. I believe so wholeheartedly in my friends being deserving of love that I will personally be the sole provider if things should ever come to that.

Why, then, is it so easy to believe and say the complete opposite to myself?

As I was writing this my dad sent me a blog post by Mary O'Malley about the concept of things being "unfair". This line seemed particularly apt: "But then I remembered that our minds have been trained to struggle and, instead of contracting, I began to laugh." And then, "There is absolutely nothing that your mind does that you need to judge." My dad didn't know that I was sat in my room writing this blog post, so perhaps he is secretly telepathic.

Of course the voice in my head is a harsher critic of and a worse friend than I would ever be to another person but the key is probably in recognising this. I have set a challenge for myself that the next bad thought I think about myself I will ask, "would you say that to or believe that of your sister? your friend? a girl you met drunk in the pub toilets?" and when the answer is inevitably "no" I will, like Mary O'Malley, simply laugh. And those kindly, gentle, beautiful things I would say to the people I love I will repeat to myself because, like everyone else, my feisty little head deserves that too.

My virtual support group.

I often find myself plunging into books and podcasts as soon as anything goes wrong, or not how I'd planned it, or when I am overwhelmed by the uncertainty of the future. The books are almost primarily autobiographies or memoirs written by women and the podcasts follow the same sort of theme. I want desperately to find similarities between my life and the lives of women that I admire. I am mostly drawn to women because I feel I can more readily relate to their experiences. I need to know that they failed, that they felt heartbreak, that they had bleak thoughts about the days that lay ahead of them. I try to fill myself with as many examples as possible of the light at the end of the tunnel. I seek constant reminders that, no, it will not feel like this forever.

Comparing my own life with the lives of others has its benefits and downfalls. It allows me to remind myself that I am not alone, that there will always be 'downs' but also many 'ups', and that if I work hard my life will eventually ebb and flow in the direction that was meant to be. However, the comparisons can often become arbitrary and futile. If I find out, for example, that at twenty two the author had a string of successful relationships, a job that was leading her to her dream career, and she wasn't still sleeping in her childhood bedroom I instantly think of my own life and assume that I have already failed. What I forget in these moments is that, actually, I am not living anyone's life but my own. To compare something as completely personal as relationships and aspirations is to ignore the nuances and even the beauty of my own experience.

At the same time I find reading and hearing the witty, clever words of women who are wiser and more experienced than I am incredibly soothing. I escape into the actual lives of others to quieten my own mind when it whirs on and on about the future, or about the state of the present. I think particularly at this moment in time when surrounding myself with other people is impossible, instead I surround myself with a sort of virtual support group, finding voices that can soothe a troubled heart.

Oversharing therapy.

I have no qualms with airing my dirty laundry on the Internet and in my writing. Of course, it depends on what the laundry is but if it is something I would talk about openly in person then I will write about it and share it online too. I know that I have said this before, but right now I am finding myself airing my dirty laundry all over the shop.

I have no qualms because in every single sense sharing my pain, my worries, my thoughts with almost everyone available is intensely therapeutic. It allows me to connect with others when I feel lonely or afraid, it allows me to process how I am feeling, it allows me to ground myself in hope and move forward when staying in my own head makes me feel like I am drowning. Occasionally, it allows me to comfort others as well as being comforted myself. That is usually the sweet spot - to feel less alone, to have helped another person, to know that we will both get through whatever it is.

I have made friends through "oversharing", it has made way for life-changing opportunities, and I have connected on a deep, emotional level with fellow human beings.

So, in order to not drown in my own head, I will continue to write and share my way out of this pain, these worries, these thoughts.