Happy New Year.
I must of said this like 15 times over the last day and everytime I’ve said it I’ve struggled with the ‘Happy’, it regurgitates inside of me.
I went into 2017 very optimistic, having experienced a pretty difficult, whirlwind 2016; It had some crazy low points but some absolutely breath taking highs too.
I had HOPE, I had POSITIVITY, I had STRENGTH.
I was 100% ready to make 2017 the best year I’d ever had.
Little did I know on Jan 1, 2017 that it was going to be the hardest year of my life to date.
Little did I know that mid way through the year would I be at full war world 3 with my hitch hiker ‘A’, the asshole hitch hiker who isn’t worthy of a name (I haven’t published my post on it yet) and a newcomer.
In Jan 2017 I was starting a new job. First job I’d been excited to actually get. I couldn’t believe I got it and they were excited to have me.
ME? Runt of the litter, damaged goods…
I broke up with my boyfriend of four years in 2016 and decided because I had nothing else; no friends and only two people I classed as family (mum and sister), that I would finally throw myself into committing to a career and becoming successful. (Came off my medication end of 2015 so I wasn’t numb or brain fucked anymore…)
For three whole months I was excelling and loving my job and finally felt some happiness after years of feeling like a numb failure.
In April, very suddenly, my mum died. I stood and watched her take her final breaths
- without the opportunity to say goodbye
- without the opportunity to tell her I loved her one more time
- without that last hug where you hold on even longer
- without achieving something and making her proud of me
I spent the last 10 years looking after my mum in everyway. My life evolved around trying to make my mum happy and she was gone.
I had nothing. I was no-one.
Que the return of ‘A’, the asshole and the newcomer….
Two days after my mum’s funeral I got sacked from my job. I was suffering with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (the new comer) and they didn’t want me anymore.
The doctors tried to put me back on medication; the flashbacks were crippling me, the anxiety had imprisoned me and the depression had formed a warm blanket around my grief riddled frame. 16 months without medicatiom and I didn’t want to go backwards, i didnt want to be numb.
I wanted to feel every ounce of the pain.
I was prescribed a sedative instead and for the next 5 months I slept and cried myself threw everyday. I had no-one checking up on me so I hid away from the world.
Giving up. Giving in. Retreating.
‘A’ was back in the driving seat, the passenger who directed ‘A’ was grief and I was tied up and gagged in the boot being tormented by PTSD.
I had no money and funeral bills to pay, i was about the lose everything including my home and then something in me clicked…
I got up, i flushed the sedatives and i washed the last 5 months off.
I got a new job. I suddenly didn’t want to lose my home and only source of security so I dug deep and pulled every reserve to the surface.
The mask was on, the ice queen activated.
I went through the motions everyday in this new job either a ball of horrendous anxiety or uncontrollably emotional. Everyday once I was home and safe I praised myself for making it threw another day. Thanking my mum for being by my side.
I now don’t want to go back, I feel nothing for this line of work anymore. I used to love it but it’s so hard to pretend you are ok, pretend you care about your work. I don’t anymore and it’s exhausting.
I feel lost, lonely and afraid
What’s the best thing I did in 2017?
I’ve spent the majority of the year crying. I miss my mum terribly and the thought of 2018 without her makes me feel sick.
Every New Year I always had hope that the year would be great, I would achieve my goals, I would feel happiness.
This year I don’t feel that, I am petrified of 2018. I have no idea what the year has planned for me.
I stand before you – HOPELESS.
On my knees, begging for 2018’s mercy, pleading with ‘A’ to be kind.
My strength is depleted, I have zero resources for another hard year.
The only power I have is my mind. I used to think it was my weakest point, that one day I would crack and break. I should have broke in 2017 but something held me together when everything else was falling apart.
- What if I am falling apart now?
I am a completely different person going into 2018 than I was going into any other year.
I am a survivor.
I’m still fighting through my biggest ‘A’ war yet without any long term medication. (I did use sedatives to avoid what felt like a heart attack and sweat attack all day long! Seriously I’ve never sweated so much, not just my armpits either. Bum cheeks, behind the knees…you name it I sweat from it!!!)
If I can survive this ongoing war, I can survive 2018, right?
All I know is I won’t go down without a fight.
I will continue to stay as strong as I can and make my mum proud.
What’s my goal for 2018?
I can’t ask anymore of myself.
- One breath at a time
- One step at a time
- One day at a time
I feel like I am at a crossroads and I have absolutely no idea which road to take.
- Carry on day the same road that I am surviving? It’s familiar I know i can do it.
- Take a risk, go a different route, re-invent myself?
One thing I do know? ‘A’ won’t be driving, whichever road I take.
Send me prayers (or maybe weapons)….im going to need them!
Goodluck on your 2018 journeys.