Back From Death

It would appear that as new tradition has been born: Two days after my birthday I come down with something disgusting and near deathly. This year did not disappoint! I don't so much mind being sick really. I quite like the excuse to sit and watch TV for 20 hours and doze in and out, drifting in a world of semi-reality. My Illnesses somehow manages to make me feel like I'm in a dimension of floatiness which I grow fond of and actually miss right now.

Until.

Until I start getting a niggling feeling that something is wrong. Until I start believing that there are people downstairs, outside my window in the night - waiting for the first chance of sighting me to pounce and attack me. I develop an incomparable paranoia on my 3rd day of illness. The day that I am not really deathly sick anymore, just too sick to actually do anything worthwhile with myself, the time of sickness that I drag myself out of bed wearing something black I had to pull out of the dirty laundry, covered in cat hairs (um.. I don't own a cat. How did they get there?) I come into work and they tell me to JUST GO HOME because I look like I might actually pass out in front of my computer screen.

The Paranoia makes me believe things that can't possibly be true. Like my fiance has fallen out of love with me because I made that comment about his socks earlier in the day. That my fiance has been attacked on his way out to the shops and is surely dead, and I'm sat on the couch knowing that my demand for chicken soup has been the death of him. My mind goes into minute detail of the call I'm going to get from the police and my guilt for years to come knowing that if I hadn't been sick, my fiance wouldn't have died. Knowing that I, myself, would die alone and heartbroken after years of pining for my One True Love.

My paranoia is fuelled mightily by my over-active imagination. People at work are plotting my termination because they can't believe that I could dare to call in sick, and they actually realise that 'what does Rachel do around here anyway? Let's get rid of her!' That I will walk into the office with people hissing and spitting at me, someone crawling from the corner hissing 'Boo!! Boo!!' (Anyone watch Princess Bride lately?)

It's always a mild surprise when I step out of the house feeling vaguely human, get the bus, walk to work, sit down, turn on the computer and carry on with normal life. Nothing has changed, I was just sick.

It's not the end of the world.

It's funny, because it's true.

The card I received from my best friend:

26

A year ago this week I was writing a blog post about my unhappiness, my despair at turning 25 and really having nothing to show for it. I was in a crisis and I couldn't see a way out.

Tomorrow, I turn 26. I am not panicking, I am feeling quite mature. This past year has been so amazingly good for me. It has rejuvinated my sense of hope, my sense of ability to change my own circumstances. I had given up on hoping and looking to the future. Just when I was giving up, my own depression gave me a lift and Oh My Word I cannot believe how much better I am today.

My boyfriend of years and years whisked me away to Paris to propose. Last year I was scared to even bring up the topic of marriage because we'd get in an argument and then we'd both end up just feeling hopeless.

I started a job in a charity, doing something I care about. Last year, I was working in an environment and with people that were sucking away my sense of being. I honestly felt like if I stayed any longer, my sense of self, my ownership of my life, feelings, thoughts were going to be extinguished. Not only was I working in a job that I didn't feel any future in, in a bland, grey existence - but I felt my self was disappearing. It has honestly taken from May when I started my new job, to now to get myself back to normal. I have started breathing easy again, started to be myself. I don't have to second guess what I'm about to say, I can feel and think and react honestly and my environment encourages me. I have amazing opportunities with this job that I didn't think would come as easily as they have. I basically have an open ticket to any department: campaigns, policy, research, working with children, etc. etc. etc. And I just have to pick. Now picking.. that's the tough part. But I have a choice!

Last year I felt stuck in England. I had no idea that in the short few months I would be able to travel to Paris, Japan and the States. I now understand that I can NOT become trapped if I actively pursue what I want, and what my wandering feet need. The coming year has so many possibilities that I can rest easy sitting here in England. I am not trapped. It was just my mind that made me that way.

I suppose I realise that hope is never lost. I should never lose sight of what I am aiming for, what I have always wanted. And what I always want is a sense of freedom, a sense that there is hope for new discoveries, new adventures, new excitement. What my problem was last year was that I had given up on hope. Hope in itself is exciting. If I dare to keep on imagining and KNOWING that the future is out there I just have to wait for it... I get excited just thinking about it.

Thank God for Hope.