...And I'm Back!

I missed this. I missed this site and this community and I really, really missed writing.

My last post was 2 years ago. A lot has happened since then, personally and globally. I’m not an expert on the latter, but I can share with you parts of my story since I was last here.

So without further ado, the abridged version!

The Fall

Looking back with 20–20 hindsight, I wonder how the hell I didn’t see it coming. Learning later on that so many others around me knew I was struggling does really make me wish someone would have given me a heads up. But no one, myself included, knew just how bad things had gotten.

Life had become an unrelenting cycle of wake, work, sleep, wake, work, not sleeping, work, sleep, wake, work... My evenings and days off were a blur of restless bedrotting, doomscrolling, and failing to channel any flicker of energy into something productive. Instead of posting, I gathered a staggering collection of drafts (many of which were one-liners or prompts that noe make very little sense to me on second viewing). My memory was shot, my “rituals” were becoming more demanding and required endless repetition and evidence. I was avoiding plans and messages, and, even though I was lucky enough to live with a partner and a dog who adored me, I felt completely alone and shut off.

One Friday morning in late February 2024, in a brief moment of clarity I called my doctor’s office and scheduled an appointment. I knew I needed help. It was as though an imposter had invaded through my brain and was slowly driving me out of my own body. I walked in to work as usual, exchanged the routine pleasantries and set up my workstation. Just as I was about to start working, the doctor phoned me. I’d been planning on having a chat about perhaps arranging some sort of therapeutic or medicated approach to helping me keep going. I’d never been keen on the idea of medication, but I was at the end of my rope and willing to try anything to keep things together. Right up until I pressed accept call, I was flooded with a determination to sort things out and fix things there and then.

(Note: Nothing against medication, I was just the type of person who wouldn’t even take a paracetamol until I was wincing with pain).

That immediately went flying out the window. I can’t for the life of me remember what was said. All I remember is breaking down and sobbing down the phone, and the doctor immediately signing me off for two weeks, with a prescription for Sertraline ready for me to pick up on my way home. I can distinctly remember feeling deeply ashamed and guilty as I contacted my line manager to let her know. Credit where it’s due, she could not have been kinder and more understanding. It did nothing to assuage the horrid, heavy feeling inside me though. After my call with her ended, I made my way back to my desk at the office I was meant to be working in that day. God knows what I must’ve looked like with my tear streaked face. As I was collecting my things, I became lightheaded as my brain was trying to process everything at once. A colleague (and dear friend), very kindly refused to let me walk into town to get my prescription and insisted on giving me a lift. In the car, she was offering advice and support. Telling me how she’d been in my position herself, and that if I needed anything, to just reach out. I told her I was signed off for two weeks, and would be fine once I had a little rest. I honestly believed that then.

The rest is a blur. At some point I phoned my partner to tell him what had happened and that I was on my way home. Things didn’t stop being blurry for about 6 months.

Then I just kind of… existed. Two weeks were over in a flash and became another two weeks, then another and another and another. Then it was another month. The passage of time only really being marked for me by appointments with my doctor, mental health nurse and catch ups with managers from work. The closest thing I could liken it to is that I had become a ghost in my own home. Unable to leave of my own accord to the outside world, wandering aimlessly and trapped in unrestful sleep and consciousness. My usually overactive brain had been slowed by medication, sometimes all but stopping for lack of direction. I wanted to live again, feel alive again. Replying to a message from a concerned friend or family member was exhausting and sometimes took days to accomplish, and more days to recover from. I spent so much time in denial. This was a strange dream, it had to be. I had stuff to do. Even taking the dog for a walk would take hours of hyping/reprimanding myself up, and that’s one of my favourite things.

The Rise

From the combined efforts of those around me and myself, I started to feel flickers of life again. Armed with a diagnosis of OCD, encouraged to undergo an ADHD assessment when the waiting lists re-opened and a note of suspected autism put on my medical record. (There are no adult autism assessments available in my area through the NHS, and getting one privately is rather expensive… thanks postcode lottery)! I had started developing a better understanding of myself. Things from my past suddenly made more sense through the lens of heavily masked and high-functioning neurodivergence.

My partner supported me in getting out of the house. Starting with accompanying him to get groceries, we gradually moved up to getting a meal out, and walking together in crowded places. I’d love to say every trip had been a resounding success, but why bare my soul only to lie at this point? The overwhelm would hit hard. I had no choice but to utilise OCD-related coping mechanisms to get through. (Walking in certain patterns, counting, pinging my helix piercing 10 times uninterrupted and suchlike). But, with his patience and support, I did always succeed in at least trying.

Slowly, connecting with the outside world became less scary and draining. I began participating in group chats, catching up with people via message. I even managed to make and attend plans with a couple of people. Something that had only a short while ago felt like a nightmarish impossibility.

The time came that I felt ready, or if not ready, at least determined to get back to work. I do want to take this moment to acknowledge that I am extremely aware and grateful for how lucky I am to have had, and continue to have such a strong support network. So many “friends” from my past would have dropped me like a hot stone. In any other job I’ve had, I would have been laid off for a while by this point. When I said I was ready to come back, they worked with me closely to ensure I could have a phased return to work, and my old workload was reviewed and cut down to a manageable size. I was given time to catch up on changes and new procedures and, as cliché as it sounds, was welcomed back with open arms.

The Keeping Going

So here we are, almost two years later. I can’t believe where I am now. The void of 2024 feels like a blurry memory. The type that didn’t happen to me, but to someone else. I’m back to working full time, able to socialise more, and armed with a deeper and more forgiving understanding of myself that I’ve never had before. My social battery runs out much faster than it used to, but I know how to work around that now. I’m finally at a place where I’m doing things just for me, not just others. The big one, writing again. I’ve got a few dozen drafts started for posting in the near future. (Not all of them non-sensical one liners either, there are some actual thought out ramblings in there)! But I really wanted to start with this post. I wanted to write the weight of 2024 off my chest and start fresh. There are still bad days, that’s life, but knowing what I can or can’t do about it, feeling in control and being able to better accept what I can’t means I’m finally moving in the direction I want to. forward

Special thanks and eternal gratitude to…

S&S — For always checking in and abducting me and the dog to go walkies in the forest. I’ll never be able to articulate how much that helped.

M — For always being there as a sounding board, offering different perspectives and truly understanding.

J — For keeping me grounded and taking me on an adventure to prepare for reentry into the world

The Group Chats and those in them — For letting me just exist, letting me ramble, and making me laugh when I really didn’t want to.

The Medical Team — I would have been fucked without you. I appreciate you wanted to do more, and appreciate everything you could do.

And last but not least… the love of my life. I know calling someone your rock is cliché, but you truly were. Thank you for standing by me during my worst, bearing with me through the bleh, and celebrating my best. I love you.

And last but not least, you. If you read this all the way to the end, I really mean it when I say thank you. One of the many takeaways I have from this whole experience is to not take any connection, even if it’s indirect, for granted.