Asking for help

Asking for help, something I've intermittently put off for the last four years. I blamed it on anyone but myself. My parents for not caring, not helping, being dismissive. Having a history with my doctors personally to the point that I felt uncomfortable talking to them. ''I can fix it on my own.'' ''I'm getting better, I don't need help any more.'' ''There's nothing that can fix it.'' All the feeble excuses I riled around my head until I realised there was only one person to blame for not getting help, me.

This month I asked for help. It's one of my resolutions on the infinite tick list that is my life. I promised myself that when I reached 18, when I reached the new year, before I start uni I would get my life in check. I would face my eating disorder, face my loneliness, face my depression and kick them the fuck away.  

Whilst I'm rational in my views I'm not so rational about myself. I've repeatedly reassured myself that 'good things come to those who wait' and then sobbed hysterically at how painful and unfair it all is. Well what a load of bollocks, what do I expect? If I sit and feel sorry for myself and do absolutely nothing productive to fix the problem of course it's not going to get better. 'Good things come to those who wait'... my arse! 

Asking for help may seem like the final admission of your weakness and failure but actually it's the bravest and most powerful thing you can do. By admitting your lack of control you allow yourself to take charge of your direction again. By addressing your insecurities and shame you allow yourself to look them dead in the eye and tell them where to go. 

I've felt ashamed and embarrassed for so long. I've felt like verbalising my issues would make them real and that no one would look at me the same way again. I wouldn't be the bad bitch I wanted to be but the truth is I never was her, it was all an elaborate cover up I allowed my mind to wander off with so I could avoid the problem. 

I've asked for help and surely that's got to be the first step on the road to recovery.

Loneliness

As I slowly wake up, sprawled wide across my bed, duvet array and the polar opposite of it's neat presentation the night before, I dread getting up. I dread opening my eyes, I dread leaving my bed, my safe haven, my literal comfort blanket and I dread the thought of the day ahead of me. I suppose it's rare to find a morning person but this is beyond a small hatred of crawling into the icy air. This is an overwhelming hatred of the day ahead, college, my life. I'm miserable again, I'm lonely, unmotivated, disappointed, embarrassed, ashamed and depressed.

I'm desperate to change my life up, to break the monotonous routine of counting down the minutes until my lesson finishes, racing to my car to drive home for my frees and jumping straight on to YouTube or Tumblr to try and escape my loneliness. The fear of having to stay at college for the short hour long free, doing everything in my power not to be caught alone and friendless but simultaneously avoiding any of the work or revision I should be doing is crippling.

That seems to be one of my issues. It's not just that I hate my life but I don't even have the drive to change it. I don't have the interest or the motivation to do any work whatsoever, I can't bring myself to push outside my comfort zone and nudge my way into a friendship group. I am desperate for an income but I haven't even got the motivation to finish my CV and sit through the hours of online applications required. I'm well an truly lifeless. I'm a physical body with no substance.

I remember a time when I had escaped these thoughts. I promised myself I would never be in a situation like this again, I even laughed at the prosperity of returning to that mindset. I couldn't fathom being that depressed or unsuccessful in all the endeavours I undertook but here I am. I'm back to square one, I have fallen back into all the bad habits I once thought were gone for good, I'm having those dreaded thoughts which I thought would never return. I feel alone and hopeless once more and the incredible embarrassment I have due to that is crushing me.

I've gone from having friends in every direction to virtually none. I now have one friend, I see her almost never. I barely even speak to her now and that's as much my fault as it is her's. She has other friends. I don't. Her friends are local, she is not. Alongside my loneliness lies my feeble excuses.

I'm not feeling sorry for myself, I hope because I know that despite my loss of drive and life I should keep pushing myself. I can't say it's remotely easy though when the one thing you require to defy the loss of interest in life is the one thing you don't have.