I put things on hold because I'd lost myself. Shortly after I stopped blogging, everything went even more wrong than I thought possible. Over Christmas I realised that I'd spent the first term of university doing something that I have never previously done in my life, because I disagree with it on principle -- being someone I was not. When I came back to university, I crashed. After a term and a half of self-harm, depressed paralysis, doctors' appointments, medication, mania, compulsive hair-cutting, a police search, chain-smoking, suicidal thoughts, weeping and insomnia, I was sent home by my university college to rest and urgently seek professional help. My first-year exams were postponed until August.
I haven't seen a psychiatrist, only GPs and a psychotherapist, so I'm so entirely sure of the exact name of my condition, but for the time being I'm working on the diagnosis of Generalised Anxiety Disorder leading to clinical depression. Life has suddenly got so much harder for me, and although I am so much better than I was three months ago (I'm able to laugh again, able to get out of bed), a simple thing like meeting up with friends is often a cause of distress, and I am still wracked with constant physical pain as my muscles are in constant spasm from anxiety. I'm at least not reclusive. I've even been able to go clubbing again, if with caution. I have hope, something I didn't have when I was sitting in the bath dragging a razor across my shin.
I have not been entirely dead to the world, and I have been very good at keeping up with my tumblr. I have also gone vegan since I last posted on here, which is definitely the best decision I ever made. I have never enjoyed food more and I really feel like it's sparked a hell of a lot of passion in me. Most surprisingly, I acquired a boyfriend, something I never thought would happen. He has stayed with me while I've been too down to get up, wiped my tears, brought me cups of tea and taken me out for day trips. He has taken enormous emotional strain and has even ended up ill himself, also seeking help from the university. He's done it all because he loves me, and I cannot imagine a stronger or braver person than that. I, for one, am indebted to him and will always love him and his kindness. I struggle a lot with heterosexuality, because I still feel that I'm a lesbian or at least woman-leaning, and I still often find myself in terror of never being sexually fulfilled, but my heart is close to him as my best friend and the only person I can be with 24/7 without wanting to scream. Sometimes I panic, fantasising about women. Then I wonder whether it's me that's wrong, spoilt, fucked. I look at his gentle face and he's smiling at me, and his arms are so warm, and he makes me feel so safe. I wish I had someone to talk to, to express my concerns. I love him so much, and the thought of hurting him makes me feel sick.
A lot has changed. But I'm still me. I'm a passionate feminist and I care enormously about justice, and I want to change the world, one vegan meal at a time. I'm so grateful to those who have stuck by me, and although I'm hurt by the ones who haven't cared, I've learned to feel sorry for them.
End of personal story.
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