"I am..."

The pursuit of happiness.

Credit: Gráinne Sophia Photography

It’s almost been five months since my last post here (oops). It’s been an interesting five months to say the least, not very smooth - just quite turbulent. [And I do promise to not just make my only posts here a ‘sorry I’ve not written here in a while, will try to do better in future’ apology piece - I do have other things in the works.]

But that’s slowly changing. However, it has taken a long way to get there though.

Back in November of last year, I’d hit my tipping point, I’d hit a low I didn’t know was possible mentally due to a number of contributing factors over the preceding months. It sent me into a complete slump, I had no desire or drive to do anything at all, genealogy or otherwise. I managed to calm myself down slightly the only way I knew how: by getting it out of my brain and onto ‘paper’ (or in my case, a social media post), but it was only temporary.

I had so much anxiety and a general ‘down-in-the-dumps’ feeling, it just wore me down, crippled me and had sent me spiralling over the edge. I shut down. I cried, had many existential crises, had a crap sleep schedule. I was incredibly grumpy and on-edge. It wasn’t pretty.

So, these past few months - I’ve been working on myself and ensuring I don’t keep up the same miserable way of life I’d known and done for years. Those who have followed along with me for some time will know I have been open about my mental health, for the hope that it would be of comfort to others to help them not think that they’re alone.

All of this isn’t a new thing for me either, it was just something I tried (and failed) to learn how to deal with for three years. I had tried numerous things to help with anxiety: coping mechanisms, the Calm / Headspace type apps, decreasing social media use - nothing worked.

However, by this point I was desperate. This had slowly swallowed me up gradually and the final straw was when it started affecting my love of genealogy and mother and baby homes research — my only escape from my brain. I so badly wanted to feel better and to just be happy. I started looking to see what supports were there from my university.

So, first came the initial talk therapy consultation. Sitting opposite a man with a laptop open taking down notes about everything I was telling him. I unpacked three years (and some) of stuff that clogged up my brain and just couldn’t get out. At the outset, I was told rather coldly “you need to change your thinking”. Now, I may have been reading too much into it at the time but I was put off by that remark. After revealing everything that I’d kept inside, I was hanging on by a thread, I was incredibly fragile. I had never done this kind of thing before and it was nothing short of a shock to my system. So, at that precise moment, telling me to do something I had already been trying to do for years - I had felt that it was a sign that this was already going to be quite pointless. I politely requested that I be put with another therapist, and things would be looking up afterwards — but after that initial consultation, I felt like I’d just ripped myself open and I knew there wasn’t any chance of going back.

Then the first GP visit rolled around, from that came the introduction of medication and conducting a number of blood tests to try and rule things out. A few appointments later and while things are still going, it’s looking like something along the lines of OCD. In the beginning, it didn’t compute with me and I was in denial. Surely, this couldn’t be it? I just thought, could I actually be getting an answer? Then things started to fit into place. For quite some time, I’d felt different to other people but I just never knew how to describe it and it had bothered me. A lot.

But, being on medication for a few months now — it does feel like the seas are less choppy now, a little bit of calm in the storm. Everything is still a work in progress but it’s going in the right direction.

Last week, I’d been to see my GP for another check-up, and they remarked saying “you look and sound much happier” and for the first time in a number of years, with my whole chest, I could finally say two words I truly meant:

“I am”.