Exposureition

I've had this blog sitting ready for a while - having decided that I wanted to vent anonymously, but being afraid to commit to doing so. Am I doing this now? I think so.
Let me go back a bit...

In 1992, I dropped out of University because I couldn't cope - I felt lost, and alone. Fair enough, some might say - that's your usual homesickness. But this was more than that. It was primal, gut-wrenching pain and fear and it was not something I could live with. Like a quitter, I dropped out, went home and bummed around for a year before studying in my home town. I wrote it off as one of those things, and went on with my life.

Eight years later, I accepted a job offer which meant a change of career. This was just after I got married, moved house, and did all of the things which regularly turn up in lists of 'the most stressful things you can do in life'. About four weeks in, my brain seemed to snap. I was sitting in a chair at night, rocking like Arthur Fowler in East-Enders. I had nothing to say, every thought or action was emotionally painful, I was numb and hurting all at the same time. Clearly, I couldn't cope. Thank god, I was able to be released from my contract, AND go back to my old job. It could have been disastrous.

A few years later, I had become really down and withdrawn in the job which I had been in for some years. I saw my GP who offered me some pills, or some Cognitive Behavioural therapy. I took the CBT, and whilst it was interesting, I didn’t really feel that it had helped massively. But I felt OK at this point, so I just got on with my life. Later, I started to dislike my job even more - I HAD to get out, I thought, and took what seemed like a fantastic new job.

Fairly early on, it felt wrong - it wasn't what I thought it had said in the brochure. I worried that my mortgage and family were at risk because of the change I had made, I hated the work I was given, and the environment and culture I was in. I ended up taking many days off sick, and staying home under the pretext of working there. This was nothing like what had happened to me before, at least in terms of scale and impact. Waking up in the mornings I was retching – dry-heaving - and occasionally even vomiting. Throughout the day, I was bewildered. Dropping my daughter off at school, I wanted to cry all the time. I would go home at night and just sit crying. I felt like I was perpetually stuck in that stomach-wrenching moment just after you receive an incredible shock, I couldn't concentrate on anything, I didn't care about anything and I couldn't control the way I felt or acted. Again, I saw a GP, who this time prescribed me an SSRI, which I gladly accepted.

After some weeks, this did begin to have an effect, and I began to feel human again. Incredibly fortunately, I was able to change jobs again, and this one I loved - the people were great, the task was what I wanted to do, and it was near my home. I was through it all, in control and was human again.

What happened? Well the difficulties and stresses of getting stuff done in a large organisation took their toll on me after a particularly bad day, and suddenly I relapsed. I had the retching, the knotted stomach and all of the usual things, but at least this time without the crying and despair. SO, this time I soldiered on - people told me I looked ill, and I was going home early, but I struggled on.

Eventually this got very difficult, so I saw my GP again, and increased the dose of my SSRI. I was also offered Beta-Blockers, but as of yet, I have not taken up this offer. After about a week, I felt quite a bit better. Eventually, I had a week off which I thought would help. Wrong. It just gave me a week in which sure, I relaxed and felt ok, but I was also subconsciously worrying about my return to work. Day one – it was back with a bang. Fuck.

Today, is day three after my return. My theory is that when I feel insecure, out of my depth or just plain scared, my body has learned to descend into a 'flight' mode and is ready to run with a huge adrenalin rush. I'm pretty sure I am taking the edge off this with the drugs. Having, with hindsight been prone to this since I was at least 18, and having lived with what I call stress/anxiety pretty regularly for the last fourteen months, I realise that what I now need to do is learn to live with, and to control it.

I don't know if anyone will read this blog, or even how often I will update it - but I do hope that I find writing it to be a cathartic experience. I want it to help.

Thanks to all of the friends, family and colleagues who have supported me through the last year, or for even longer. I do love you all, and though it's hard, I am working to become who I want to be, and who you need me to be. I really am.

And to my children - just thank you. Love from Daddy