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Cha Cha Cha Changes

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I’llbefineintheend

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It’s been a while since I wrote on here.  I’ve avoided it. There have been plenty of times in the last few months when I could have written down my experiences. 

I had a horrible, drawn out experience of getting a job and a flat when my uni course ended. It caused me countless sleepless nights, night terrors and bad habits. 

I don’t know why I avoided this space. I chose it because it’s not mainstream. But this isn’t a big forum and there is that part of me that wants huge amounts of support...maybe that’s my ego...or maybe it’s a feeling of mutual experience that I don’t feel I’ve gotten with anyone completely yet. 

But here I am, back again. And the changes have been huge. 

I graduated from my course, moved from one city to another, moved in with my boyfriend, started a new job and it’s all been a lot. 

I know I made good, positive decisions. I’m glad I’m independent and living with a man I love and have a job working with great people and live in a lovely flat. I did good by myself. 

But settling in is taking a long time. I’m constantly fighting a sense of failure because I haven’t done anything to do with my acting degree. I want to do things but ‘life’ things get in the way but life is for the living and the doing and the pursueing of your dreams, I hear you say?! 

Oh wait no, that’s my voice, in my head, shouting at me. Telling me I’m wasting my time, my precious time. 

Oh yes, because I’ve been thinking a lot about death recently too. Dying and not doing any of the things I want to do. Imagining in detail the moment the light goes out. And then freaking out entirely. 

Yesterday, I cried and cried because I felt so out of control of my anxiety. It consumed me. And I let myself be devoured. 

Today it was a smaller knot in my chest that I could fool myself into believing it was wind. 

Tomorrow I don’t know. 

The day after, I don’t know. 

Ive been to doctors and been told the most ridiculous useless nonsense of worse...just been told to breathe into a bag. 

But I am going to go back in there next few weeks and try to get them to properly diagnose me. 

Oh yeah. I’m not even properly diagnosed. None of my doctors wanted to talk more then 2 minutes about it. 

So I want it. I want to be diagnosed. I want to be guided towards therapy. I want to be better. I can’t stand to go one with this ticking time machine in my chest. It’s unbearable. 

I want to be able to fully enjoy what I have managed to piece together in my life right now and have the drive to push forward again. 

But till next time...

i’llbefineintheend

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