My mind is a colourful wasteland, where a wildflower has grown – Part two

I was in a battle with anxiety and depression for the entirety of my teen years. I had bad experiences but I often get flashbacks and memories of my childhood and teen years, good times, family holidays with my parents and sister, cycling through Phoenix Park without a care in the world. When I turned 14 I started teaching myself how to play the keyboard. I loved getting lost and disappearing temporarily from the stresses of life. I learned early on in life that life is a constant flux of change. There is something new and someone new every day. My most favourite thing about life is people. I love how everyone interprets things differently and feels things differently. But, sometimes that can complicate things.

Back then I didn’t know I had an anxiety disorder, just that I had a problem with anxiety. There were times my anxiety disorder held me back academically, I managed despite my struggle with anxiety to do a few PLC’s from Journalism to Languages since leaving secondary school and I’ve managed to build up credible work experience the last 8 years, working in fraud, an opticians, IT companies and consultancy, music companies, call centres and colleges. But in the shadows of my achievements, I would be blatantly making excuses for why my palms are sweaty, why I’m quiet, my head is heavy and I’m not speaking to you, why I’m walking slowly and carefully making steps.

My mind goes 90 miles an hour and it doesn’t stop. Consumed by irrational thoughts trying to stay in control of my emotions, reaction and trying to manoeuvre my way around the world. I wake up and I have to position myself correctly, so I don’t feel off getting out of bed. Ten messages from friends asking me to head out tonight, how’s work? How’s college? OMG. Switch off social media, shut out the world. There are too many irrelevant occurrences. Pics, meme’s, status’, overdrive, too much to perceive. Do you want to go for a walk? It’s traumatising to try to keep control of your emotions and not go crazy. My senses are very sensitive. I’m too aware of my surroundings. People say, Sarah, why are you such a drama queen? All the struggles I encountered and experienced during my childhood and adolescence pushed me into overdrive and I feel I had to put myself on the path of becoming a happy person, no matter what it took.

I was on the right track in 2016, I was living a great life, seeing different places and meeting new people. In a world of music. But then I experiencing a personal issue that shattered my self-esteem and self-confidence I had built up. My panic attacks became worse and more frequent so my GP suggested to try some medication to get them under control. 3 months later, February 2017, I was sat at my mam’s bedside in a ground floor hospital wing in Beaumont Hospital. It was a whirlwind. She had terminal Stage 4 metastatic breast cancer. A big mix of emotions, I was angry and ready for a fight with anyone. It was this same year when my Ma passed away. I remember attending Longitude Festival around that time with my sister. We went to some sets and we saw some acts. I left the gig early on my own. I got the 16 bus towards the city centre and I stood on Wexford Street on my own in a fucking daze. I often think back to this period of time, wondering what state I was in mentally. I was completely numb and my spirit was broken. Any time I was around anyone, I was there physically, but mentally I wasn’t.

So it was just nearly 3 years ago, February 2017, life changed. The world had stopped and I tried to hold on with a firm grip. Well, I tried. I’ll never forget the months or the day as long as I live. I was in a taxi with my sister, and my ma called my sister and said she thought she had cancer. I rolled down the taxi window, I couldn’t breathe. The world had stopped, and at that moment and I wanted to get off. The next six months were an utter blur. I forced myself to work and emotionally detached myself from everything and everyone. I sat in offices working, barely getting through the days. I got some work as an IT consultant, but it was unbearable to sit in a new position and act normal. The fear and the stress of it all wrapped around me like a poison trying to choke me and debilitate me. My lunchtimes were spent strolling around Dublin City, alone, riddled with crippling anxiety and in a world of my own. Music, so much music I listened to, on repeat. I called my ma on the phone most day’s at lunch, and she told me how her morning went and I told her about mine. My conversations with people became short. I stopped forming friendships and stopped caring about other people. I just couldn’t talk. My world became small. Long days and longer nights. I never accepted she was sick. I couldn’t. Why my ma?

During this time my ma’s family were pivotal support. My aunts, uncle, my cousins and friend’s were like angels on earth during this period of time. My ma was a good selfless person always helping people discreetly. Why were we dealt those shitty cards, why her? I became an angry person with hate in my heart and sadness in my soul. But, all those nights watching Netflix with her, I’ll forever cherish them. Anne with an E on Netflix was my favourite and hers. We’d chat about everything when it was just us, I miss those conversations. Because I never had the opportunity before to share things with her the way I did when she as ill. She told me that I had a heart of gold behind it all and I’ll find my way in the world. She’d ask me how everything was with me but it was hard to let her in, I tried to keep normality and didn’t speak about it. It was so difficult but even more difficult for her. To sit in social settings, to communicate with other people it was hard and it was unbearable to keep up an appearance that was false and hid more than could be realized.

I remembered when my da passed away, she had wrapped me under her blanket of protection so no one could hurt me. The emotional load, I carried the world on my shoulders to the point I spent so many nights crying my eyes out, letting my tears soak into the pillow. Hoping she wouldn’t hear me as she lay in bed in the sitting room on the ground floor. I never cried in front of her. Not once. I acted normal as best I could, but I struggled to the point I didn’t feel human anymore, I did so many things wrong, I hated myself for it all. I couldn’t talk to people. I stayed silent and become a vessel of negativity for some time. But it wasn’t about me, it was about her. She raised me and protected me from the evil in this world. I don’t think I could ever thank her enough for everything she ever did for me. She was like a soldier in armour, her ability to remain resilient throughout her lifetime and still be kind & giving was amazing. I respected her and I looked up to her. She was the embodiment of a strong woman. My sister is very like her.

Over those few months, we shared many moments of laughter. Many moments filled with pain. But, many moments filled with love. The love she had for others was limitless. There came a time in Summer 2017 when I knew what was to come. I was barely keeping my head above water. I kept telling my ma I was going to finally be going to college in September 2017, I was finally going. I wanted to make her proud and stick at something. I really, seriously, wanted to make her proud. August 2017 had arrived and my ma turned 61. The last week of August everything happened so suddenly, mentally I was drained and physically exhausted. Everyone else too. I couldn’t leave her side. But I felt broken and I blamed myself for her being sick. All I could see in front of me, was the amazing woman who gave me life, was preparing to leave us. Her journey in this life was coming to an end. She was on embarking on her next journey. I’m not religious, but, I prayed that week and the week that followed. To my da. I prayed & prayed. August 30th 2017, she was gone. She left her mark on everyone she ever knew. She fought the hardest battle, she was a warrior. The world fell apart and crashed. I held myself up as best I could, but I was slipping.

Stay tuned tomorrow for part three of Sarah’s story….