I've been signed off work sick for two weeks, with the official diagnosis of 'anxiety with depression'. I was surprised at how easy it was, but then, that's the thing.
Having the time off is brilliant, as I'm not having to put up any fronts or seem like I'm coping with anything. That's something I've been doing for years, and getting dressed and going to work is one way that I can 'pass' as a functioning adult. Now that I don't have to do that, I can simply deal with how I actually feel on a daily basis, which is: anxious, but then, that's the thing.
I've also had time and space to talk to Furiosa about what's going on with me. She's also been signed off work for a couple of weeks, due to work stress and the stress of the Chap starting school. This has been brewing for 6 years now (he'll be 5 in January, that's a lot of brewing). Her symptoms were panic, anxiety, hyperventilation and The Fear that came out of nowhere to paralyse her and screw up her morning. It was when she was telling me about it that I realised that what she was describing was reasonably normal for me, and that's the thing.
The thing is, my normal is messed up. My baseline level of background anxiety is mild to moderate. Just existing on this planet is enough to make me nervous, and that's before you start adding in things like money, work, hoovering, talking to other people and having sex. Furiosa's symptoms are fairly regular occurences for me when I'm at work, and have been for several years. I've been existing at work-stress levels that can get you signed off sick for several years, and they've become normal for me. I've normalised anxiety with depression.
Looking back to try and find out how I got this way, when it started and how it developed, I couldn't. I can't think of a single time in my childhood, in my teens, or as an adult when I've actually felt relaxed. Not at home, not at school, not on any holidays. I've always been anxious about something, and I've never found anything that can make that go away.
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| "But Darling, your sexual fantasies make it all go away, don't we?" |
But they don't, not really. They keep it at bay for a time, they offer me a space where my anxieties simply aren't felt any more, they throw a towel over the poison parrot's cage. But, like an alcoholic sobering up, which is a massively barbed analogy for me to draw, my anxieties are all still there in the morning, with an added layer of guilt on top, ready to be evaded all over again.
So, plan: time off work, good, therapy, good, pills to quell my baseline anxiety, good, staying my version of sober, good, finding another outlet for my submissiveness, very very necessary.
This blog? Not sure yet.
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