I don’t tend to think of my strengths often, it makes me uncomfortable, but I do think I can confidently say that one of my strengths is in understanding from an early age that mental health is vital and is something that we need to talk about. I speak about my experiences often, and I try to speak to my friends about their own mental health when I am concerned for them.
I constantly tell my friends and my family that they need to be kind to themselves. That they need to accept that the things the voice in their head will sometimes say to them are not true. That they should be soft with the way that they judge themselves. That they should forgive themselves for things.
So why is it so damn hard to take that advice myself?
I feel like a failure to wake up as a 38 year old man and spend most of the day desperately urging to self harm.
I haven’t. I haven’t done for years at this point. It doesn’t stop me wanting to though, regularly. For me it was always an act of self punishment, a release of the anger I had towards myself.
I don’t know why I am angry at myself today. I do know that I should have seen this coming though. I’m on a run of really good days. I have not had bad dreams for weeks, maybe a month or more. I have been incredibly inspired and creative. I have planned and written a Pathfinder one shot to play with my friends over the Christmas break. I have done tons of work on the next long term campaign we are going to play. I have been writing notes on my phone constantly. I don’t know if I am writing lyrics, or poetry, or just thoughts, but I am writing constantly. I have written about the unexpected paths my life has taken. I have written about the fear I have of the future. I have written about the recurring anxiety attacks I have been experiencing for about 18 months now. It’s been brilliant. It is the most creative I have felt in forever.
I stopped taking my anti-depressants because I felt positive. I felt like I had a real handle on things.
Then I woke up this morning in an absolute black hole, pit of despair. I woke just after 6 but just could not motivate to do anything. I had planned to wake early, do some washing, prime some minis to paint, go for a walk. Instead I laid in bed until nearly midday. I didn’t do anything. I wasn’t reading anything. I wasn’t watching anything. I was just wallowing, and overthinking every single aspect of my existence.
If any one of my friends told me this had been their day I would tell them that there was nothing wrong with that. That it was good to recognise you had made it through the day and that tomorrow was a new start. But when it’s me I instead being to ruminate. I tell myself I am a failure for feeling this way and achieving nothing with the day. I think of how pathetic I am to be approaching 40 years old and still be unable to mentally prepare myself to just fucking get on with the day.
I don’t share the things I write when I feel positive. I’ll share this though in the hope that if you also had a shit day today you might know that you weren’t alone in that.
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