Some people out there know (or at least have an idea) why I am not regularly updating this blog at the moment. I am busy fighting. Every single day.
I am fighting to get up in the morning; thankfully, my sense of duty has won so far. I firmly believe that my personal life should not affect my work, and about 120 students rely on me awarding them with marks in February, so I have to go to work. It’s not as draining as it sounds, though; I actually enjoy spending time with my students. Teaching keeps my mind from wandering those dark places, and regardless of my own emotional state, making other people laugh is still an act which regenerates me. This has always been my drug of choice, and it’s a potent one; these days, I’ll take anything I can get.
I am fighting negative emotions and thoughts day in, day out, and I am fighting to retrieve my optimism which has gone AWOL. I am fighting to tell myself that I should take it one step at a time, and I am fighting to believe that better times are ahead. I am fighting to find a purpose in my life, and I am fighting to trust myself, my skills, my instincts. Sometimes I don’t know how to find my way out of this nightmare maze my mind has created; this fight is the hardest one, and there were times when I thought I was losing the battle. It’s just so fucking tiresome, all this fighting. It makes you want to give up and find a more peaceful place.
I am fighting to reconcile my heart and my head. My head has always been the stronger one, the one to snatch the wheel when things got bad. I am excellent at analysing, structuring, organising, may it be others or myself. But analysing yourself is just a way to dissect your emotions; I am channeling my fears, hopes, dreams through my mind, and while this helps to keep them at bay, it also means I am not dealing with them properly. They are neatly stored away in a trunk in the furthest corner of my mind. Well, they were. Now the trunk is wide open and overflowing, and I can’t find the fucking keys, let alone close the lid. It’s like being caught in an avalanche: It just carries you away, and you tumble and spin and desperately try to keep your head up to catch some air from time to time, to survive by whatever means.
I hate this. My mind tells me to get a fucking grip on myself and stop being so arduous. I get the strong impression that my mind is rather fed up with my heart at this point. Sometimes I imagine my brain rolling its non-existent eyes at my heart, similar to the look Oliver Hardy used to give Stan Laurel when he said something particularly stupid. Unsurprisingly, this does not help. Not one bit. It just leads to me putting myself under even more pressure to be “normal” again.
I am fighting my own impatience. My mind tells me to function, to focus on the tasks at hand, and most of the time, it works (in particular when I am teaching). But my mind not accepting me the way I am, not willing to allow my heart some time to process experiences, makes it hard for me to take it slow. I know that I need to take baby steps, but given my high expectations on myself and my tendency to make quick decisions, I find the healing process agonisingly tedious. I don’t want all this negativity, thank you very much – can you please bugger off and close the door behind you? Not being able to ignore the pessimistic voices is hard for me. There used to be a Tinka who was quite good at finding the off switch when emotions got too much for her. I wonder whether I will ever see her again. I wonder whether I actually want to see her again.
Although I have been quite upfront with most people about what’s the matter with me, there is only a handful of people I actually confide in when I feel bad (and bad is an euphemism here). It’s difficult for me to accept my thoughts and feelings, but talking about them with others is another fight altogether. My parents and friends have been fantastic and very supportive, but I reached a point where I realised that I needed professional help.
I have a therapist now, and she seems to be quite nice. There are some issues which need to be tackled, and none of them is something I want to discuss in this blog (at the moment), but the big, fat underlying source of my problems, especially the fact that I use my head to be massively overprotective of my heart, seems to be my intelligence: “You are very, very smart”, she said. “But in your case, that’s a gift and a burden at the same time”.