Who Am I?

Originally published January 22, 2019

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This is something I refer to a lot in my posts, but never seem to elaborate on. Those that really know me might know a portion of the truth, but even I’m not certain of the details. I just know that I was once a person who hated herself, always wanting to be someone else. Now, while I still dream of being better, I’m happy with myself and how far I’ve come. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and I’m still not the person I strive to be, but I’m content with the person I am.

In high school, I was a wreck. Though I was never treated and never sought help, I believe I suffered from anxiety, depression and all sorts of mental afflictions I don’t want to know about. I contemplated suicide and at times I would hurt myself in ways no one would have ever discovered. I chewed my nails until they bled and scratched my legs until they scarred. Every day was like walking through thick honey. Even on a good day, I went home with all my energy drained.

It was never physical pain, not really. There were days where the physical pain affected me badly. I know now it was endometriosis and the cyst I ended up getting removed years later. Or sometimes it was just bad period pain that every woman must contend with. But even on the better days, when the pain was bearable and at the back of my mind, I could barely make it through each minute.

It was mentally taxing. I went through a constant stream of anxiety. It’s like every thought was focused on what people thought of me, how they hated me, how I couldn’t speak to them out of fear and what sort of judgements they’d rain down on me because of that fear. Sure, hardly any of them thought negatively of me at all, and the one’s that did I didn’t care about. Yet the fears crept into my mind, consuming me. It was the way I viewed myself through their eyes that got to me. I hated who I was.

The depression didn’t help my social anxiety. Every time I thought I succeeded at something or hit some milestone, the depression would creep its way in. Perhaps it was the physical illness that was draining my immune system, unknown to me back then, making me susceptible to such negative thoughts and horrible emotions. Perhaps the mental afflictions caused the physical pains. Or perhaps they weren’t related at all, and I’m just as unlucky as the next person suffering a similar fate.

But I’m not like that anymore.

When I started Uni, that was when it began to change. I don’t know at what point I suddenly became someone else, if it can be put down to a point at all. But I finally realised that I liked who I was, who I had become. I still scratch my legs and leave scars, and I still chew my nails (currently working on that one). I still have an incessant fear deep within my chest that the world is judging me. I still suffer the endless cycles of depression from time to time.

But all in all, I’m proud of who I have become.

There are a LOT of things that helped me reach this point. BMX was a big one. Learning to shake hands and thank the people I raced, camaraderie despite seconds before being bustled on the track in a desperate struggle for the finish line. Hidden behind a helmet and gloves, it was only really with my best friend and her cousin that I had to be me. At first, I was awkward as anything with the cousin, but now I think of him as a part of my family.

As strange as it seems, alcohol helped me. I know that for most people, many people, alcohol and depression/anxiety do NOT mix well. But for me it was different. I still had those fears, but with a couple of drinks I could push them aside. I wore a crop top and short shorts the first time I ever got drunk, something new I had never pulled off before simply due to my lacking confidence. I was anxious as anything, but I drowned it in the next drink, and soon discovered the lovely balance of buzz. Just enough to smother my fears and allow me some confidence, without going into the embarrassing level of drunken stupidity.

Well, except that one time… but no one wants to know about that.

I didn’t drink very much. Other than a glass or two of Margaret River Chocolate Liquor (because OMG that stuff is to die for), I wasn’t the sort of person to just have a drink for the sake of it. I’m honestly saying that I’ve had two glasses, ever, that haven’t been at an event of some kind. Every other time I made the decision to drink alcohol, it was for the sole purpose of reaching that stage of tipsy that I found my confidence again. I got drunk, simply to become that person I wasn’t when I was sober.

I learnt to dance, I learnt to smile. I even got a free drink from a random stranger once (whilst keeping a very watchful eye as the bartender poured it to make sure nothing ended up slipped in my cup). I was comfortable when I had a drink, and I was human.

I don’t need a drink to be that person now. I’m past that point. Thank goodness, because I’m a heavy drinker and staying even remotely tipsy isn’t cheap. It’s also not an option to me right now, or for a while yet (being pregnant and all).

There were people entering my life around the same time that I made this change from who I once was to who I am now. My best friend met her partner (now fiancé and soon to be husband) around then, just as I was starting Uni and moving out of home for the first time. I still remember the first time we met, at BMX one night. He was probably as shy as I was, and there was one moment where we met eyes and I managed to smile at him before turning away in fright.

The fact that my best friend was proud of me for that small victory explains how far I’ve come. I can now talk to her fiancé like he’s a normal person. It probably helps that we lived together for a bit, and he’s now a part of my extended family. My pack, I like to say. All the people that have entered my lives who I’d do anything for if they truly needed it. With him came all his friends, and though I’m still only now making small triumphs at speaking to them, I’m noticing more and more that I can say something to those friends without the fear clogging my throat.

Uni was also a huge factor that influenced my life. I had to speak to people, ask directions, give directions, ask advice. I had to collaborate and compete. I had to be open and joking and nice. There was no chance for me to run off and disappear like I could in high school. I was suddenly an adult, and such cowardice wasn’t an option.

Though it didn’t stop me from hiding in the toilet time and time again, but we’ll move past that.

I remember one day, walking through Murdoch on a Thursday (Market Day), I discovered the stall for my uni community (full of animal nerds like me). I signed up, and then decided to be bold and got talked into going on the pub crawl. I’d never done anything like it. I wouldn’t have, either, if I hadn’t been able to sneak my friend on board and convinced her to tag along with me.

I did ask permission for her to be there, of course. I told them that she wasn’t studying anything to do with animals, and that she was studying health. They said it was fine to have students from other schools of study come along with one of ‘us’. I don’t think they realised she was from an entirely different university at the time (in my defense, she did go to Murdoch the following semester).

I had a good time, despite constant fear racing through me (and being too poor to actually afford many drinks). I recognised a few faces from class, and I even met a girl that was a friend of a friend from WAY back. Basically, she knew a guy I had grown up with back in the Pilbara, when we were all only children. I’d left the Pilbara, and he’d left the town. Sometime after that he’d gone to school with her, and she’d finally come down to Perth to go to uni with me. I love the way the world seems so small at times, and so big at others.

I’m pretty sure she graduated last year (wow, how to ruin my ‘achievements’ post), and even though we barely spoke a word to each other since that night in first year, I’m proud of her like she was a friend. I mean, we shared Dragonvale treats and eggs for a while back in the day. That’s a bond one never forgets (that’s slight sarcasm, I think).

And just before the beginning of my second semester, first year, one of the biggest changes of my life happened.

I met Luke.

There’s a huge lead up to that story. Basically, a while before I met someone from around the area I grew up in over Facebook. We started chatting (he was home schooled, so even though we ran the same circles we somehow never met) and discovered we had some similar interests (mainly Skyrim, I believe, and perhaps a little LOL). Later, I go out with my other best friend (I think for her birthday, so around June 2016?) and get drunk as usual.

Sleep it off for only a few hours, and then I’m up again.

When I drink, I can’t sleep, and laying around makes me feel sick. I need movement and things to do, ways to feel energised. So I took a gamble and met this guy at the traino (very familiar ground to me, I’d spent every morning and afternoon of my high school life there). We went into the city together for a food festival (that was really a big letdown), met up with one of his friends, and just had a nice day walking around Perth.

That was a huge step for me, and something I never would have done normally. I ended up friends with the guy. He came over once when he had some hardship in his life, and we went out ice skating (I was shocked he could skate, and I think the shock was reciprocated when he saw I could as well). We haven’t seen much of each other since, really, but I see he’s well through the odd Facebook post and settle with that.

There was a reason for this story. Basically, a few weeks later (not sure when, but it would have been early July) he invited me out with a bunch of his friends to go clubbing. Which was a great plan, except they were all staying at some random person’s house after and I didn’t feel that daring just yet. So I parked my car at Murdoch traino, and booked into a backpackers for the night. It was an eight bedroom, girls only room, and I was lucky enough to have it all to myself.

And after I’d already booked my room and was in the city, they ended up at Crown Casino and Eve (which I thoroughly hate). So in the city I stayed, without them. I decided not to waste my night or my six pack, had a few to drink and then went out to Capitol, tagging along with a group of girls as I walked through the city (they didn’t mind the sudden stranger tagging along, I was the innocent adoption). It was a good night, and I eventually went home and slept it off.

The reason I remember these events so well is because it was that event that preceded my relationship with Luke. We found each other online, started texting that night, and never stopped. He was concerned for me, in the city on my own, even though he had no idea who I was. I probably gave off the complete opposite impression to the girl he met a bit later.

It was when I moved into Murdoch Village and went to a local shopping centre for the first time, that I realised how amazingly our lives had crossed. I was texting him, mentioning the place I’d never been to before, and discovered he lived just up the road to this new shop. We had plans to meet prior to that, but we ended up meeting at that shopping centre. That shopping centre has a lot of history for us over the time. We had our first kiss hidden in there, and spent hours circling the shop endlessly in the very beginning of our relationship (we SUCKED at planning dates).

Meeting Luke was probably one of the biggest influences on who I’ve become today. I had to be stronger around him, and he brought out a side of me I had never met before (at least sober). He gave me confidence, and eventually we fell in love. It wasn’t how I originally thought our penpal-like relationship would go.

I’m different to how I once was. I take risks, and I challenge myself. Starting this blog was a challenge, starting uni was a challenge, moving out was a challenge. Every day I seem to surprise myself with what I achieve. I volunteer places I never believed I could and I do things I never had the faith in myself to do before.

But really, I haven’t changed all that much. There are still many instances where I revert to the person I was before. In fact, it was only recently that I wondered if I had PTSD. Some of my family suffer from it, as well as some of my friends. But despite all my other mental afflictions, I never thought I did. Until one day, when I was stuck in the anger and frustration of depression and fighting with Luke, something happened.

I never wanted to mention this to anyone but my best friend (and Luke, of course), but talking about it here is another one of my daring steps. Because maybe it’s nothing, maybe it’s something. But just maybe, someone else will be questioning the same thing. And there’s a chance that person will read this and realise that they aren’t all that alone after all.

Mid fight, I was about to go out the door. Luke put his arm up to grab the door knob, trying to stop me, begging for me to calm down and stay. And that simple motion sent me cowering to the corner. I had a flashback, and adrenaline raced through my body faster than ever before. I’d never experienced the likes of it and haven’t since. It really scared him, seeing me cower like that in the corner as if he’d hurt me. I’m not even sure how to describe the fear that washed over me in that terrifying moment.

That ended our fight, of course, because I was so ashamed of how I behaved, so shocked that my body would betray my mind like that, locking me out of my own control room. For the record, I’ve never been abused. I’ve never been hit (childhood discipline excluded, but even then not much despite it being more of a norm back then), and I’ve never physically suffered at the hand of anyone else (other than myself).

But there have been very, very rare instances where I’ve been very close to seeing someone else hurt in such a way. Each instant left a scar on my soul, and a fear I thought I had long since overcome. But apparently those scars aren’t as good at healing as I thought, and I’m not sure they’ll ever go away. I don’t know if that is some mild form of PTSD or not. I’ll never claim it is, as I know that PTSD is terrible and damaging, and can bring down the strongest of souls. What I experienced is far from that.

I just know that I’m not sure how to describe what happened to me during that fight, what strange thing possessed my body and sent me back to a time I had long ago left behind. Yet I don’t regret that moment, when I cowered against the wall like an injured animal. It ended the fight, but it also left me vulnerable to Luke and needing to open up to him, to explain. It made me speak to him of things I’d never said aloud before, and that was probably something I needed.

That was only recently, that incident. I have recent scars on my leg from the uncontrollable scratching that I feel when stress gets the better of me. I still have panic attacks, anxiety attacks, and sudden depression. But it’s not what it once was. My depression has improved the most, I think. And the anxiety is something I can live with now, where once it strangled me until I thought I couldn’t go on.

I know what has changed. It’s my perspective of myself. When I was in high school, I worried constantly what others thought of me. I viewed myself through their eyes, and not through mine. I hated who I was and dreaded every second because of it. Now, I’ve improved. I have a long way to go yet, and much more soul searching to do on the way. But when I stuff up, when I make a mistake that once would have left me locked in my room feeling terrible for days, I can over come it. Because I can sit there and think, “Sure, I messed up what I was trying to say. But hey, I said it. Two years ago, I would never have had the guts to even speak. Today I did.”

Because when you take risks, you’re bound to make mistakes along the way. But for me, the fact I took those risks at all is a huge success, an achievement, and I feel like I’ve become a better person for it. So when I stuff up, I don’t think so much about how others perceive it. I think about how I perceive it, and I know that I’m damn proud of myself.

It truly doesn’t matter what other people think. As long as you believe in yourself, you can get through anything.