On Mistakes

I'm a big believer in the idea of making mistakes and learning from them and doing better the next time around. I can forgive mistakes if there's a sincere apology or a very clear move to fix it.

But I'm not that forgiving with myself. And every time, but especially this time, I'm worried I've made too big of a mistake.

I spent a lot of time and money and anxiety on getting here, to London, a place I've wanted to be for over ten years. I always knew I wanted to study abroad and I always knew I wanted to do it somewhere in the UK since I've never been comfortable with other languages and could never handle that extra stress. And now I'm sitting here, wondering if I made a mistake in coming here. I spent every day from the time I handed in my application wondering if I had made a good choice to come here. It was expensive and it was far away and I wouldn't know anybody and I don't make friends easily - I've talked before about how I'm pretty terrible at being a friend. Then the communication issues with my home college and my host college grew and grew and I continued to wonder if it was a sign that things wouldn't go great. I spent a lot of time thinking about how bad this could be for my depression - I wrestled with finally going to get help and medications vs knowing that it can take much longer than I had to get the chemistry right and knowing what it'd mean for my health paperwork. I kind of spilled to my physician, but she didn't really take me seriously; on the other hand, she didn't harp on my weight so there were pros and cons to crying in the examination room.

And I feel like, since getting here, every one of my worst fears has happened. It was more expensive than initially planned and getting myself set up has cost a lot of money. I've made friends and love my flatmates, but I'm not connected with them in the same way - they're younger and less mature. They're starting school as I'm getting ready to end it. The school itself is a party school which is...not me. I've lost a lot of bonding experiences because of that. My home school has continued not to communicate with myself and the other student here are trying to figure out what will keep us a full time student and what won't and being told to take another class when that extra class would cost us around $3000 extra and knowing that if I don't stay full time, I don't keep my scholarship when I get back and that has a lot of serious implications - including, possibly, having to pay them back a large chunk of the money that covered my expenses here. 

And this weekend, depression and anxiety settled in. Partly over this, partly because of homesickness, partly because of Mystery Illness attempting to return, partly because the community I've always gone to no longer feels like a safe, supportive place.

As the summer progressed, I got more involved in a lot of the Big Conversations. I started trying to claim my identity more as someone who was a part of minority groups. And those Big Conversations started getting nastier and nastier. This past weekend, I screwed up. As an ally, as a member of a minority group - I feel like I screwed up. In some ways that I can pinpoint, some ways that I can't. And I feel like my voice is being ignored or mocked in situations where I thought it would be welcomed. Which leads to more questions of if my voice is actually valid, if my identity is valid. In reality, that's probably just because I assume every subtweet is about me. That's how my brain works, especially when I'm spiraling. It got to a point where I lost sensation in my lower legs and seriously contemplated binge eating by the end of the weekend - both signs my anxiety has reached its peak. I was able to work myself down for the first time but...it wasn't pretty and it wasn't easy on me. And I feel like this weekend screwed up some of the friendships I had felt comfortable in.

I tried to stay off twitter for about 24 hours. I had a really slow day, so I'd pop my head in and see these Big Conversations, but the idea of jumping in filled me with dread. How else could I fuck up? Who else can I make hate me? What other relationships can I destroy? And I'd back right out or scroll for something more mundane. I had thoughts, but I can't handle the spiral speaking up causes right now. I tried to go on a rant about something not publishing related, but it ended up getting more personal than I thought it would and I just felt sick by time I finished. There are still Big Conversations happening and I have a lot of Thoughts about them but I just...can't say anything. 

So this week, I'm depressed and anxious. I feel like I have no support system. I feel like my face and my body are disgusting. I'm questioning a lot of my own identity with no real reason. And I don't know why I'm even here and not just in New York where at the very least my cats love me and my walls are a pretty color.

I've made mistakes and I don't know how to fix it. The only thing I know for sure is that if I spend even one full day in my dorm this weekend, I really don't think it'd end well for me so I need to get planning. Keep myself busy so I can keep the thoughts out without getting too serious or controversial on twitter. And maybe I can pull myself out of the spiral soon.

--Julie

Social Media, Self Worth, and Anxiety

In one week, I'll be on a plane to another country on my own, where I'll live for three months. I don't have a schedule or know where I'm living and I don't know anyone where I'm going. Up until yesterday, nobody told me how much money I had to pay for this pleasure, which was it's own source of stress. The sale of our house still hasn't officially gone through (and, we recently found out, may never go through...four months after happening) so we're waiting on this money for the program that's not gonna be in time and have to borrow from my grandmother, who, speaking of? Has good days and bad days. Days where she does nothing but criticize us and how we've arranged things and our clutter and everything my mother does. And days where everything's fine and she barely notices we exist. 

Today was one of the bad days. Today was my mother's birthday. Today was my brother's first day at a new school. Today was the day she wrote the check so we can go get a certified check so I can put this check in the mail. Today marked one week until I get on a plane on my own for the first time. Today marked one week until I leave the country for the first time.

It's been a long summer. And part of a long year. I don't think I ever fully recovered from last September. Because last September lead right into Mystery Illness which lead right into my GPA becoming a concern for my scholarship which lead to another semester of full time student and part time intern and freelance worker and anxiety haver which has lead to a second semester where my GPA is a concern for my scholarship.

Nothing has let up. My motivation is gone. My anxiety is constant to the point where I've had difficulties breathing for two weeks. It was so bad that initially, I thought Mystery Illness was returning. I'm not sure if this is better or worst.

In the last months before moving out of NYC, I started to wonder about the friendships I had there. How many, how valid they were. How much I mattered. Three years with many of the people I know there, and still I never quite fit. Was it worth still trying? Did they care? Did I? Do I want to go back to a NYC where I'm not sure I have friends?

And now, for most of the past three months, I've been able to push it off because...I haven't had anyone around. Besides two high school friends and my handful of visits to NYC, I haven't seen anyone. Twitter and tumblr and email and Facebook and instagram are all I've had. And I've tweeted more than usual because of that, desperate to talk to people in my generation and with my political beliefs. I've shared some of this, but perhaps not all. I haven't shared how bad the anxiety is and when I have, I've tried to play it off.

For two weeks, my self worth has been plummeting and my anxiety has been rising. Talking about my anxiety and this move and this study abroad process has worn out and nobody seems to reach out to check in. Nobody seems to reply. Nobody seems interested in anything I do or say and a couple of recent posts in particular have hit hard and made me feel utterly useless. Like a complete waste of space. These are my friends and they have their own concerns and issues and I shouldn't expect them to worry about me all the time, but do they care at all? Am I just annoying them too much by sharing and trying to reach out without directly reaching out? Are they actually my friends? And when I talk about certain issues, do they think what I'm saying is wrong or offensive or stupid? 

Does anything I say or do matter to anyone?

I feel unaccomplished and stupid and lumpy and worthless and logically, I know it's wrong. Logically, I know I matter. Logically, I know people care about me and they can't all be online as often as I can be, and therefore miss things. 

Anxiety gives zero fucks about logic.

It's gotten to the point where I've wanted to talk about the anxiety more on twitter, but the idea gives me anxiety because what if it just annoys more people? What if all the people I think would help me miss it or ignore it or mock it? What if nobody cares?

What if what if what if what if. My brain has been nothing but what ifs for two weeks. What if I don't do friends/tweets/posts/anxiety/anything right?

I don't really know where to go from here. I just know that I feel friendless and worthless and I'm questioning why I thought anything I'm trying to do is possible. I'm questioning why I'm a terrible friend and why I can't seem to maintain healthy relationships and if this is the case, clearly it's me not them. I just know I'm tired of not sleeping and not breathing. I'm tired of feeling like this but I don't know how to stop.

And one week from today, I'll be on a plane to an adventure where I can't solve anything in advance. 

--Julie