Monday, 19 January 2015

Time

In this post I'm partly going to be reverting to a past blog post I made back when I was participating in a 30 day blogging challenge in  July/August 2014. I'm going to copy and paste the post here, as I feel it is relevant in regards to my thoughts currently, and will be discussing more about time afterwards also.

Posted on the 18th July 2014.

Recently I've been thinking a lot about the amount of time I've lost (I would argue wasted) due to my mental illness. Time out of education, opportunities missed, time often spend sitting within the comfort of the four walls of my house, often staring at these walls, feeling utterly incapable at times of doing much else. Many of you know that I'm an avid list maker and, let's face it, a dreamer through and through and it's becoming increasingly concerning recently how not only am I not certain of what I want out of life, the things I do have in mind seem impossible and it seems unrealistic that my life will have enough time to ever be completely fulfilled.

We always say how 'we don't have time' to do things, I for one included. It's hitting me recently how little I've accomplished in my almost 22 years of life, and how right now it feels as if time doesn't really seem to be on my side. I feel like I should have achieved so much more, been a better person and seen and completed more things, and instead, I've spend a vast majority of my childhood and teenage years at wars with my family and depressed. There are 16 year olds doing far more with their lives and accomplishing far more than I have at the age of 21, which panics me so much. After just over five years in a relationship (which can I point out is my first relationship), I'm already receiving the dreaded questions of 'when I'm getting married' or 'when am I going to start living with Nathan' or even pregnancy questions. Time is not in my favour and the pressure on me to do all of these things, whilst studying for my degree two years later than all of my peers, is all a bit too much. What happens if I'm 30 and still living here because I can't get a job after University? What happens if we can't afford to marry? What if I never eventually work out what it is I want to do with my life. What if what if what if. 

This also refers to yesterdays post in many ways, with my constant panic that my father and I will never have enough 'time' to make up for the fourteen years in which he was absent from my life. So much time that we have both lost, and, devastatingly, are unable to retrieve. Realistically, I know I'm unable to get this time back, but it's horrible to even imagine not having that much longer left with my father. No amount of time will ever be enough.

I wake up in the morning and am overloaded with anxiety over how much or little time I have to do certain things, very often leaving plenty of time before events just in case and leaving little time for relaxation. I'm all too often panicking about what the time is, even if I don't have to be somewhere. And when I do, I have to work out an approximate amount of time regarding when to start getting ready, when to leave, and vice versa. I'm so obsessed with time that it just appears that the time is being wasted. I'm so obsessed with time that the more I obsess over it, the less likely I am to get anything done. Anyone who knows me will know that I stress out SO much over being late for anything - which can I point out is extremely rare but due to unfortunate circumstances (i.e train delays, traffic) can happen. I wouldn't dream of wandering into a lecture 10 minutes 'late', or even 2 or 5 minutes late. I'd much rather miss the lecture. The same way in which the very thought of handing in an essay late sends shivers down my spine. Instead, I tend to plan ahead to such a strong degree that I take a standard journey time and add at least 45 minutes/an hour, sometimes more onto that journey to allocate for events that my anxiety insists will no doubt happen. Instead I'll start planning for essays as early as possible, even if the perfectionism means that the essay is not handed in until the very day. I am very aware that a lot of these traits are due to my extreme perfectionism, but right now I am feeling rather suffocated by time.

This makes me nervous for the upcoming term, as my second year at University is going to involve juggling the intense amount of reading and workload for my degree, together with a new job at my University, trying to maintain my new found relationship with my Dad, my family, friends, boyfriend. Trying to keep my head above water and keeping a smile on my face whilst struggling with negative thoughts. And to try and find some space in the week for DBT appointments, which I'm currently not attending due to anxiety. Alongside the attempt to make time for myself, to blog, to volunteer, to actually try and conquer the anxiety and GO OUT like a normal 21 year old should. To try and do all of the things I tell myself I'm going to, to have enough sleep, to exercise more and to actually eat properly. The time I'll have to fit all of this into my working week feels impossible, and I haven't even begun the second year of my degree yet.

I know that everything happens for a reason and I know I shouldn't self-punish for struggling with what I do, but right now it feels like the clock is ticking and before I know it another 21 years will speed by leaving me in exactly the same position as I was before. I know realistically that my life is my own and it is therefore down to me to make the most of it - I am in charge of my own destiny and vice versa. But these constant thoughts make anything I want to do seem impossible, mammoth task. It all becomes very cyclic - how can I ever work on 'recovery' if I can't even bring myself to attend appointments because I can't leave the house and get a bus every single week? How can I keep battling with the same thoughts over and over again that I've had since I was at least 11 years old, no doubt earlier than that - will BPD consume not just my past, but my future too?

So:

Although since I constructed this post I am another year older, a lot of my perceptions on time are no different. Last week, I not only attended the funeral of a family friend of mine but also mourned the loss of one of my dear friends, whom most of you would have known, Amy Ratnett, who tragically died on the 17th of January 2014.

These scenarios in particular draw attention to the little time that is or is possibly left available to me. Time is strangely becoming a fear of mine. Even this evening, I returned from a day at University full of lectures and a particularly engaging seminar, and panicked over how much I had to do in the what seems like such little time to do it in. Preparing for my next 3000 word essay, course reading, applying for work experience, composing a portfolio for another part of my course, and yet also try and maintain relationships with the family and friends I could lose at any second. To think about travelling and recovery, careers, my relationship with my boyfriend of over 5.5 years and various other tasks often feels impossible to all coincide with each other. The notion that I have plenty of time is false, to me. To me, I have no time at all. I've lived for 22 years and I feel occasionally that I've wasted so much of those 22 years being ill that now, wanting to make up for that lost time, I'm overwhelmed by it all and have no idea where to begin.

I am at a stage in my life where I want to do everything as so little opportunities were available to me whilst I was desperately sick with my mental health problems. But I'm also an adult, and those opportunities seem past and unachievable. Life is not forever, time is not forever and it is only ticking, which is why I have such an immense fear of death and losing others. I dread that every chance with every person and every good moment could possibly be my last. Interesting, to think that four years ago I was desperate to end my life. Now, I'm certainly not suicidal, but live in such fear of the life that surrounds me and the time that defines everything that I do.

A lot of you may think I'm being ridiculous, or that I'm making no sense, but I only write with honesty. It's so easy to say to somebody that of course, they have time to do whatever they want with their lives, and that nothing is unachievable, but is that really true? I can barely keep up with the present as I'm trying to mould back the mistakes and crap that I've dragged along with me from the past, and all of this therapy, this work on recovery, eats into current time and I can't help but think that if I'd not lived with this entirely, I wouldn't feel so stuck.

I'm so grateful to have a life that is defined as my oyster - but the concept that time is not forever and the oyster will not always sustain, will remain a constant fear.


1 comment:

  1. I can relate to this... so much.

    I can relate to the over-preparing and the constant anxiety (that I feel right now because there are so many things I *should* be doing instead!) I don't have anything helpful to say- sorry- but I wanted to respond because this resonated with me... and it hurts to live and feel like this.

    It is hard for anyone to keep up with life... but I think that we probably both have high expectations for ourselves. And that we compare ourselves with high-achievers who have not 'lost' years through mental health problems... hold up models of 'look what other people can do!'

    I think University can be tough because you are surrounded by other people racing forwards... then there is pressure for finding a job... for it to be the 'right' job... and it's hard to keep up. And easy to de-prioritise 'nice' things in favour of 'important' ones.

    I wish I knew how to enjoy life, instead of running through it... or standing paralysed for fear of never being enough. The only time I am not aware of the tick-tick-tick of ebbing away is when I am engaged in something I enjoy doing... but as soon as I look up, there it is.

    And I'm falling behind...

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