You're Braver Than You Know

You're standing on the edge of a cliff. There is a ten-thousand foot drop in front of you. Jagged and sharp rocks are at the bottom. Ferocious waves are crashing against the rocks. Would you jump? 

The natural answer is no. As soon as your body sees the dangers, its natural fight or flight urges come to forefront and will warn you that jumping is not a clever idea because the risk is too high. There is probably a 1 in 1000th chance that you won't hit the rocks, but then you have to hope that you don't die simply from the impact of hitting the water and then that the ferocious waves don't smack you against the rocks. There is probably a very, very minimal chance of surviving the jump.

Now, most people will never actually have to worry about this sort of thing. The chances that you'll be in a life-threatening situation is small but our bodies naturally have this instinct in our bodies. This instinct, when activated outside of a life-threatening situation is called anxiety.

Every single time my anxiety says hello to me, I know that my body imagines the above. It imagines that I have a minimal chance of surviving. To have that feeling and to still "jump" (eat the food, enter the crowded room, sleep without doing x,y, or z), is incredibly difficult. I can't just jump. I need to first tell my brain that there is no danger and that is not an easy thing to do. I often need to do things to make myself feel better about the situation, to help myself feel more in control of the situation. 

When I had my Cognitive Behavioural Therapy a few years ago, my therapist called me brave. The reason for this is because I knew a certain situation was going to fill me with anxiety but I went anyway. At the time I shrugged it away. I wasn't brave, I was just doing what everyone else did. I was just getting on with life. My reasoning for this was that I could avoid what was going to make me anxious (i.e. not eating the buffet food at blogger events) or have a time out if I needed it.

But then Laura posted this post last week and on Wednesday Jess told me that "I was amazing" because she couldn't tell that I was having an anxiety attack about eating some food. Admittedly I actually had a few anxiety issues the day I saw her. And due to all of that I realised that I am brave. It's one of those things that I find difficult to admit (see this post) but I need to because I am starting to realise that it's true.

Bravery is about feeling the fear and doing it anyway. And this is what I do on a daily basis and is something that I'm doing a lot more of now too, to try and battle my anxiety completely. The more I do things I'm uncomfortable doing, the sooner I can remind my brain that I am completely safe and eating that food with my fingers without washing my hands right beforehand is not a life or death situation. And if I can do that, maybe one day I can just go out and be with my friends and not worry... well... at all.

I know there are still times that I avoid things. Times when I throw food away because I simply can't look past my anxiety, times when I cancel social events with strangers or return to my car to double check I locked it but no one said I had to be brave every day. And it's okay to be weak every now and again but that doesn't belittle everything else I've done. This is just another thing that I also need to remind myself every day too.

If you've done something today that makes you brave, I'd love to hear about it so do tell me all in the comments or on twitter!

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When You Think You Can't... You Probably Can

I have had a really difficult couple of weeks. I’m coming to the end of two years of therapy and, as someone with tough past experiences of endings, I’ve been dreading it. Then, after my psychologist and I were slowly beginning to put plans into place as to how we would spend our remaining weeks together, my care coordinator announced that she would be leaving. I sobbed and sobbed. This was less because of sadness and more because I didn’t think I could cope with it. I had already told myself that I wouldn’t manage the end of therapy, so doubling what I would have to deal with surely meant catastrophe. But, you know what? I have proved myself wrong.

The endings I’m so anxious about are still to come, so I can’t predict exactly what I will be like when they happen. However, what I have been able to do is put strategies in place that allow me to cope in the moment. In spite of initially thinking that the future was enough to tip me over the edge, I told myself that I would cope. I honestly believe that, in life, we generally have a say over whether we cope or not, as well as what we use to do so. That’s not to say that we manage without the help of others or that we don’t become recluses for a time when we’re wracked with anxiety. But in my choice to cope, because the alternative was a downward spiral that would mean hospital admission or worse, I took back some of the control that I felt I had lost. I couldn’t stop the NHS from limiting my therapy to two years or my care coordinator getting a new job. I can choose to live my life though and to make decisions that make that life worth living. I can tell myself that I can turn my future into what I want it to be, whether that be having a career or a family or going travelling.

Two days after I was told of my care coordinator’s imminent departure, I was due to meet fellow Safe Space writers, Jo and Faye. I haven’t been in a social environment where I would be meeting and chatting to people in two years. Anxiety has grown so big in my mind that I had convinced myself that I would never again be able to meet people: they wouldn’t like me, I would say something stupid, it would just be too much for me. Perhaps it’s because I felt I had nothing to lose after the week I was having, but I went to London and met Jo and Faye and… it was brilliant! I was without a doubt that meeting people was never something I was going to manage and, once again, I was proved wrong.

If the last fortnight has taught me anything, it is that even when I am utterly convinced that something is impossible, that it’s not something I can survive and that I’m not resilient enough to cope with it, life so often has other ideas. There is very little that I can’t do. I won’t be Queen of England, nor will I be an international athlete. But when life hits as hard as it can and often in unexpected ways, I find a strength that I didn’t know I had and I become creative in discovering ways of coping.

This isn’t a post for me to big myself up and say, “Look what I can do.” It’s to say, “Look at what we all can do.” I have put off so many opportunities because of the messages of fear I was telling myself. Perhaps you’re doing the same – avoiding meeting people who could become great friends, not going to an interview because you decide you would never be good enough for the job, dreading the future because it looks so much bigger than your limited emotional resources. But I truly believe that you can.

Sometimes we need the support of others, whether it be friends or therapists; sometimes we need to take time to cry because a relationship is ending; sometimes we may feel terrified when we try something new. But that’s okay. It doesn’t matter how we get there. It just matters that we get there in the end. So as I dare myself to take greater leaps of faith and to trust in my own capacity to cope, I wonder if you will join me. What do you tell yourself you can’t do? Maybe it’s time to see that you can.

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Making Friends When Socially Anxious

If I was to count the number of friends I have, and treat it seriously, I would not get past one. Of course, I have work colleagues I get one with, people from the YA community who I love chatting to, and friends of the family who I think of warmly. But when it comes to real friends - the kind that are there for you no matter what; who you can talk to all the time about absolutely anything; who know you inside out and back to front, all your flaws, and love you anyway; who you can confide in and be silly with and go to for assurance when you're having a wobble - of those kind of friends, I have one. My best friend. And he lives in Belfast, while I live in London.

This hasn't been a problem for me. I've not felt lonely or like something is lacking from my life. I have a very close family, and we spend a lot of time together, and they've come to be friends, too. But at the end of last year, I came to realise that I don't really have a great social life. With a lack of more friends, perhaps I'm missing out on...something. Fun, sure - nights out, lunch dates, catching up over coffee - but also something more. People help you grow, right? They challenge you and educate you and give you a different perspect. My best mate does a fantastic job at this, but maybe I could do with a few more people in my life? And experience more things because of those people?

I decided that I was going to make an effort to try and make more friends this year. For those of you who don't know, #DrinkYA is one of many social events for those in that YA communinity - readers, bloggers, authors, publishing people - to get together and just hang out, chat, and have a drink, organised by the brilliant Jim. I went to my first #DrinkYA event in January, hoping to meet new people, have fun talking about books, and hopefully make some friends in the process.

I have always been quite shy. As a child, I was painfully shy; I remember once hiding in the bathroom when family were visiting my Nan, because I didn't know them well, and I got very nervous and didn't want to talk to them. It's got better as I've got older, university and work have helped, but I still find talking to people I don't know difficult. It's not something that comes easy to me, and I have to work at it. "Don't use small talk. Say something interesting, Stop feeling so nervous. Compliment them, maybe. Look them in the eye. Listen to what they're actually saying." To some I might seem stand-offish and rude, but I'm not, I'm just shy.

But I didn't realise just how socially anxious I was until #DrinkYA. (I'm not talking about Social Anxiety Disorder here, but social anxiety. The latter can lead into the former, but it's not a mental illness.) I went to the event feeling a little nervous, but generally pretty excited. Until I got there and realised in a group of around 30 people, there were only two I knew. It was overwhelming, and I became so uncomfortable. From my intro post, you might think I was a strong person who is happy in her skin and with who she is, and doesn't really care what other people think. And for the most part, I am. But at #DrinkYA, I crumbled.

Jim did introduce me to a number of people, and everyone was lovely. But I struggled with finding things to say. I let them lead the conversation and followed them, asking questions, trying to say interesting things, but I was like a rabbit in the headlights. I felt like I was being humoured, like they were taking pity on me, but weren't really interested. It's hard to describe how I felt. There were all these people, and they were going to judge me and find me lacking, and I just wanted to escape. So I wouldn't have to talk, so I wouldn't have to be judged. It was also hard because everyone else seemed to know each other from other social or bookish events, which I can't always attend because of work, and I was there on the sidelines. So not only was I struggling to talk to people I didn't know, I also felt like an outsider. I even went to the toilet at one point, just to get away from everyone. For a little bit of peace, a little bit of quiet. With my head in my hands, feeling like an idiot. Eventually, I pasted on a smile and went back up, but it was just as bad. As I said, everyone was lovely - I wasn't being judged, I wasn't being pitied, these people were there to hang out and chat just like me. But that's how my social anxiety made me feel, and it was unbearable. I lasted two hours before leaving, making my way home on the bus, feeling like a failure. How was I supposed to make friends, when I can't even handle meeting new people?

A few days after, I had a talk with myself. I wasn't a failure. So big groups are obviously not for me, I can't handle being around so many people I don't know. But smaller groups? I can do that. I organised a get-together with a few people over coffee, and although that was a little awkward at times, I was fine. An old friend from way back got in touch asking to meet up this year, and we had a drink together one night, getting to know each other again and reliving old times. It was a great night! And I went to a gallery with a blogger from the US who is studying here for a few months. Fewer people, but a step in the right direction.

I still have just the one friend, but we're only in the third month of the year. There's time. And I'm hoping that seeing more people at events and organising get-togethers will help me get there. There are several people I know that I would so love to be friends with. People who are so smart, who are just so cool and inspiring, who just seem like so much fun. But it's not really the done thing to go up to people and say, "Hey, I think you're awesome. Please be my friend?" Needy and creepy, much? But I'm sure I'll get there.

And if you see me at an event in the future, and I'm kind of quiet or on my own or not saying very much, please don't feel badly of me. I'm not being rude, I don't think I'm better than you, nor am I not interested. I'm just shy, and I'm probably feeling nervous about talking to you, and maybe struggling for something to say. If you know me online, and want to, please do come over and say hi. You've no idea how much that would mean to me when I'm struggling, how much it would help.



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