Yesterday, I went for a walk... (state of the author, self indulgent bs etc.) · 3:06am May 7th, 2018
Warning: Long ranty explanation of why I've been "busy" ahead.
Yesterday, in the late afternoon, I put on my shoes and I went for a walk. Not to go anywhere, not because I was bored, and not for very long, but I just went out, went around the block, and came back. And in a way, that's kind of a big deal.
Is it because I'm trying to exercise more?
Nah. I actually get quite a bit of exercise. This helps, of course, and I'm near my target weight, if I could just STAY AT IT rather than dipping lower or going higher. But that's not why.
Is it because I'm trying to disconnect from technology and appreciate nature?
HAHAHA no. I love nature, and I love technology. Besides, I live in a city, not much nature to appreciate here except for pigeons.
Is it because I like going for walks and this was a nice way for me to relax after a long day?
Not even a little. Pretty much the opposite. I hate going for walks outside.
So, then why is this a big deal in any imaginable way?
Because this is the first time in many MANY years that I, alone, for no reason, without great planning in advance, have gone for a walk outside. Just because.
For those that don't know this about me yet, I have agoraphobia. It's commonly known as a fear of being outside, but that's not quite accurate. It's a fear of being "unsafe," which is heightened by being in a place that feels unsafe. So, anyplace unfamiliar, away from home, unexpected. Any place there are a lot of people who could see me have a panic attack, where I have no way of escaping, makes me feel afraid. And not like normal "eek" afraid... but like, actual feeling like I'm going to die, may faint, may throw up, may even have seizures, I have medication for this shit. It feels like I'm going to die, and I fear for my life, for NO reason, and there's little to no control over it. There's also no known surefire cure.
Over the years it's been better and worse. It's gone hand in hand with depression that's left me feeling... less than human. There was a time where I couldn't go out to the mailbox to get mail every day. It was a few times a week, and I sprinted there and back, before locking myself in and crying. It was pretty pathetic. It all culminated in one day, about six years ago, where someone knocked on the door, and I was so terrified by the idea of someone even being near invading my little safe-haven of "inside," that I broke down. I locked all the doors, locked myself in a bedroom, locked myself in the closet, sat on the floor just sobbing, and called my husband to come home because I couldn't deal with it anymore. Even then, I spent the night in that closet.
There were days where I didn't see sunlight.
From there, I worked on it to a point where, with someone there, with several protective... security blankets in hand, so to speak, I could go out to the store, go out to eat, even take public transportation regularly to go to work. It had ups and downs, and I had good days and bad. But if the day was bad, I would still find myself locking myself into a closet until the feeling passed.
It has been years since I have locked myself in a closet. Priest may remember the last time I did it, it was near when we started dating.
A few months ago, I decided that I was backsliding too much. I needed to get better. There are things I want to be able to do that I've felt unable to, and while I may seem normal, and like I can manage everything and be fine, I don't like that being at conventions means I have to be watched over constantly, or that I have to go back to the hotel room every few hours to "recharge." And I know that the only way I can get better is to actively go outside more, do things that are frightening and difficult. And so I started doing that.
Since the middle of last month, I have gone outside every single day. Some days it's just to go tend a few potted plants, but sometimes it was more active. I walked alone for half an hour at night in the city. I walked to the store and back. I took the bus somewhere. I walked for two miles in a busy place. I'm always pretty okay with walking in trees and nature and all that, as long as I prep for it, but the city is noisy and busy and there are lots of people, and it's always worse. Walking around here has always been difficult. But I've been doing it.
And guys? It feels...
Really fucking terrible.
There is active chest pain. I get dizzy, I try not to start crying in public. I've had to talk myself down from throwing up or fainting more than once. I start shaking, I have difficulty speaking, and it's an effort not to just bolt away like a frightened deer at the slightest sound. The flight instinct is strong. Like crazy strong. It's an active fight.
And worse? It doesn't feel like, in doing these things, that I'm accomplishing anything. Every person on earth, pretty much, can just go outside without fear. When I do it, it doesn't make me feel brave. It makes me feel weaker. It makes me feel pathetic and stupid, like I'm trying to give myself a gold star for something that isn't an accomplishment. Any one telling me "good job!' feels like I need to snap back "Not really, but whatever." It all feels like an exercise in futility, a reminder that none of this should be so hard for me. I should be able to go outside right now if I want to. Instead, I actually have to work to make it happen. And in the back of my mind, there's that little voice telling me that it's so easy to not go outside today. that it's okay to take a day off. That it's so simple and relieving to let myself backslide a little. I can hear the closet calling to me out of the corner of my eye. It's right over there. It would be the easiest thing in the world to turn the knob right now.
There are days where I don't want to get out of bed. There are days where I feel worthless. Where I don't even really want to be alive. I have to focus on one day at a time to get through. And any "accomplishment" I make, any step forward, feels like it's not worth celebrating. I don't feel worthy of recognition. I don't feel like anything I'm doing is worthy of praise.
But I also can take time to remind myself that, six years ago, I couldn't leave the house. It took six years to get this far, WAY too long. It's been bad for so long, and I feel really weak and helpless for not getting a little better at least a little sooner. But the fact is, there is a marked improvement. There is a change. And yesterday... I took a walk.
I just said to myself "I think I'll take a walk now."
And I did.
Because I can.
I couldn't do that even a year ago.
And objectively, I know that's kind of a huge step for me. To have that power over the fear that's kept me a captive in my own home for so long. It's not much, but it's still a start. I have a ways to go, and I know it's probably going to get worse again, and I might fail. There's a good change I'll break down again. There's even a chance I'll lock myself in again.
But I'm going to be doing a lot of scary things for myself soon. I've been busy, even if these things don't seem particularly difficult or time consuming to others. I haven't been writing as much, in part, because I'm outside a lot, and also because there's a huge project still in the works. The end of the month is still my deadline for it. ;) I'm still, here, still on every day or so, and still planning and scheming and Barcasting and reading. I'm just... quiet.
All I ask from you guys is to please be patient with me. I'm trying. I keep saying that, because really that's the only thing I can feel good about in all of this. I am trying. Even if it feels like the effort goes nowhere, and it NEVER feels good, the effort IS there. And that much I can feel, even if I can't feel good about what I'm doing, or myself. People who are close to me who know about this little endeavor of mine have been... amazing. They've put up with my "needs" and panic attacks and dumb irrational fears, and they've encouraged me. I feel ashamed when they say they're proud of me... but I also kind of think I need to hear it too. Eighth has never hesitated to give me words of encouragement. My Barcast family, including my dear Priest, have always been there. Even when they don't know how hard I'm leaning on them. And to those that didn't know I was dealing with this?
If I snap at you, I'm sorry. If I seem grumpy or don't want to talk or blow you off, or don't laugh easy, or just... tell you I'm tired. It's because I'm exhausting myself doing this. I have to push. It's like training for a marathon, but one inside my own head. It's going okay right now, not great, not even good, to be honest. But it's going.
And I'll keep going.
I know this isn't an update anyone needed but... heh, honestly? I can't write this down anywhere else. I feel embarrassed with my family and irl friends knowing this is a legit struggle for me, and cheering myself on with facebook or twitter? Hahahaha, no thanks.
So, yeah... this post is a little self-indulgent. And I don't intend to do a lot of them like this. But that's where I'm at. That's the state of the writer. Big story by the end of the month. Lots of good things on the horizon, cool stuff that I hope you'll all like. Conventions, Barcast, video games, oneshits, the works.
But in the meantime?
I still have some steps I need to take for myself.
And the hardest one is always that first one out the door.
Every.
Single.
Time.
-anonpencil
Hey.
Congrats. You should feel good.
Pencil, take whatever time you need. You're the coolest, and we'll always be here for you
Every step foreword is a good thing. And take the time you need we'll be here when you get back.
keep it up
you have my unwavering support
Hot damn gurl, you write more for sota than I do for most of my story chapters.
What you said reminded me when I'd have anxiety attacks because of my daily goings on. Nothing so bad as a diagnosed phobia, but you're tugging at some familiar strings in my old lump of coal. Just do your best, that's all anyone could ever ask of you, yourself included. Reminding myself of that and doing everything in my power to better the lot in my life that was causing my stress is how I've stayed on top of things the last couple of year and considering you're better than me, I'm sure you'll have even better results.
brb updating my shipping wall.
4855227
Oh boy, wait until you learn about who else I'm dating! 😀
4855228
If her name is Jill then I hear she gets around.
Proud of you, Pencil. Take the time you need, and know at least I got your back in whatever way.
We're all fighting different battles. Don't count yourself out, or forget the soldiers you call your loved ones <3
How brave you are isn’t measured by what others can do, you have a fear, a really intense fear, and even when it’s making you feel like absolute shit you’re still going at it, keeping with it. You’re determined to face this fear which causes you this much pain, not many have that kind of conviction. So even if you don’t feel brave, even if you feel pathetic, just remember that there are others that wouldn’t even bother lifting their foot to take the first step. You’re better than that, far, far better. Keep going on knowing you were determined enough to make those steps while others would simply lock themselves away for the rest of their lives.
One step at a time, friend. We are all very proud of you for letting us know that you’re taking steps, figuratively and literally, moving forward.
Can’t imagine how difficult that must be but we all believe in you. Sending hugs your way.
You should be proud of yourself, Pencil. It takes a very strong and brave person to face what frightens them, whether it is internal or external. You take your time. It sounds to me like you are moving forward, though and that is what matters most.
That and that you remember we, your friends and followers, are here for you. *hugs* Take care, be safe and be well.
Do what you can, man. Don't worry about overall accomplishments, just set small goals and meet them, and take pride in your own improvement. As your personal happiness and satisfaction are the only relevant metrics against which that growth can be measured, and as anyone who doesn't like that can go fuck themselves, just cut yourself some slack and do what you can.
When I was released from service everything was hard. Everything hurt. I wasn't able to live by myself, take care of myself like a normal adult. It was hard to think. Still is- I occasionally have to remind myself how to use a fork or how the clicky thing on the end of a retractable pen works. I had to relearn how to walk, but on one busted ass leg and one bone stub; I had to relearn how not to piss myself at night like a fucking child. Like a goddamn fucking child. I had to relearn how to get up in the middle of the night and change my own sheets and clean myself up and not just lay there and cry and hate everything. Not to imply that I don't still hate everything sometimes. I do. I'm just less passive about it now.
I had to force myself to go outside at first. For years it took a concerted effort to go out and be around people. Not because I was afraid, though, but because I just fucking hated everyone that much. I mean, yeah there was some fear there: open spaces are complete bullshit. Mostly though, I just hated. I was wroth. My guts twisted, my bowels ran, my heart raced, and I seethed. Going outside felt like dieing, like having an hours long heart attack and a belly full of cow ants all in one. My doctors diagnosed me with hypertension and stomach ulcers. I hated those fuckers too.
I'm sorry to make this about me. I wish I could give you some magic bullet that would just take all the pain away and leave you whole. If it existed I'd give it you in a heartbeat. I'd find you, hold you down, and shove it down your goddamn throat if I had to because it fucking sucks to be betrayed by your own body, to constantly fail at the simplest, easiest, most retard proof, kindergarten level shit. All I can give you, though, is the assurance that it does get better. Do what you can as you can. Keep your goals small but challenging, and take joy in even small victories. Accept help when you need it, and be honest about your needs. And for whatever it's worth, I'll hope for you.
I'm proud of you, and I love you.
That's awesome!
Not what you fight against — oh gods no. But hearing the amount of progress you've made? That's really awesome.
Expanding our boundaries, pushing our limits, is always worth celebrating, no matter what the objective accomplishment is. Last month, my father (rehabilitating after a serious hospitalization) made it up a flight of steps to his porch, and that was so awesome that a family spread out around the globe got instant all-caps text messages. A decade ago, I walked to the top of the highest mountain in the continental U.S., and that was awesome too. Not more awesome — just also awesome, and for the same reasons. And frankly, he worked harder for his stairs than I did for my mountain. (It was in the middle of a Pacific Crest Trail thru-hike and I was in the best shape of my life.)
Some people think you can only be awesome if you do something nobody's ever done before. If you break a record. If you go beyond "normal" accomplishments. Those people are invited to join a competition to eat the biggest dick. I've drawn far more inspiration from friends routing around obstacles to "normal" life than I ever will watching a sportsball person sportsball slightly harder than the second place sportsballer.
I honestly had no idea at the various conventions we've attended of the behind-the-scenes work that went into making those cons happen for you. But now that I know, I'm super grateful that you made the effort. You are a cool person, I've appreciated our interactions, and I am gonna drink a beer for you today to celebrate how you've grown to make that possible.
As for the patience? Fam, it's the least we can do.