Tag Archives: anxiety

Two years gone by

31 Aug

Hmmm. Not sure if anyone will read this post. I’m not sure what any of my readers are up to these days. It’s been a very long time. So long, in fact, that WordPress has kind of changed and I’m not entirely sure how to use it anymore.

As if to prove that point, my screen keeps freezing. But I’ll keep writing anyway. Because that’s what we do.

It’s been two years and 28 days since the Pizza of Doom, dear friends. Is it pathetic that I know that? Probably. But bear with me. I promise, I’ve done you proud.

Two years ago right now I was still a mess. The man I thought I was going to marry had broken my heart. I was about to start a terrifying new job. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. A lot of the time, I was struggling just to breathe. I know that sounds ever so dramatic, but the pain was physical. And deep.

A year ago I wasn’t sure that I would ever get over what had happened. I was frustrated by my inability to move on. I was angry and bored, and I felt that life had let me down terribly.

Well, dear buddies, I stand before you today (or write before you, I suppose) a new and very happy woman.

Have I met someone?

Nope.

I’ve had a few comical dates. I’ve had a bit of a fling with someone. But I feel so detached from the world of relationships that the very concept of having a boyfriend never really crosses my mind.

So here’s what is going on:

  • Work is good. I’ve worked hard, and I’m enjoying it. I’m travelling lots, I’m meeting new people. It’s exciting.
  • I’m exercising. I swim pretty much every morning. I’m doing Kayla Itsines too. OK, I’m only on week 2, but that’s something. I walk about 9 miles a day. And I’m still loving yoga too.
  • I went to Japan on my own for a month. It was incredible. It scared me, and surprised me, and delighted me. It left me unafraid, with an appetite for travel. And sushi.
  • And the biggest news of all – next month I’m moving to New York. I’m transferring with my work and starting over stateside. Am I terrified? Of course I am. But I’ve come to realise that the scariest things usually work out the best in life.

So I wanted to write today, because it is more than two years, just to say that I’m doing fine now. And, if you happen to stumble upon Pizza of Doom because you’re feeling sad and heartbroken and reaching out into cyberspace, then I can promise you that it will get better.

But, remember, nobody else is responsible for your happiness. Just you.

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Putting my heart back together

28 Dec

I haven’t blogged in a long time.

My apologies, but I needed a bit of a blogcation. In truth, I’m not sure whether I should continue to write here on Pizza of Doom, or set up some new place to post all my ramblings. Not because I don’t love what I’ve created here – I do. But because my life is finally moving on.

This week it will be 17 months since the man I loved – the man I thought I was going to marry and have beautiful children with – ate half a pizza and told me he had never been in love with me. What followed was nothing short of hell. I didn’t know true heartbreak before this happened. I didn’t understand trauma, or depression, or myself.

I remember when, five years ago, a friend of mine had her engagement called off. Her boyfriend of five years had met someone else. That first week after it happened, I reassured her, and I told her, “I promise it will never feel as bad as it does right now.” I should never have said that, because I realise now that she was still in shock. She was still processing things. Her pain would come to a sharp climax sometime later, and then linger for months that turned to years. I want you to know that this friend got married (to someone else) just before Christmas. She has a baby girl. She’s very happy now.

I think my pain was at its worst for the duration of the first six months following the Pizza of Doom. Oh, you can read that pain right here on my blog. But, what scared me, was when a year later – even over a year later – the pain was still here. I thought it would never go away.

Then, all of a sudden, something shifted. Funny how it happens. One day I thought to myself, “Hmmm, you haven’t cried in like two weeks – weird.”

There’s a passage in The Kite Runner by Khaled Hussein that explains how it works with my eloquence than I ever could:

“I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded; not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night.”

Now, I’m not sure that I’ve quite reached forgiveness. But I’ve reached contentment.

I refuse to feel sorry for myself that I’m still single at 32. Yes, the world is f***ed up for the fact that nobody celebrates you past graduation unless you’re getting married or having kids. But I don’t need to let that drag me down. I’m lucky. I can travel. I can buy things. I can live and create the life I want. And, if someone comes along, fantastic. But I can’t just sit here waiting.

I’ve started making changes. I’ve booked a trip to Japan. I’ve cut my hair (which I hadn’t had cut in nine years). I’m swimming and doing yoga and making sure that I celebrate things for myself – because nobody else will.

And, here’s something, I’m going to Japan on my own. It makes me slightly anxious, but it doesn’t scare me. Before, it would have. Before him. While we were together. Immediately after. I wouldn’t have had the confidence or the guts to pack up and head to the other side of the world for a month. Now, I do.

You see, this experience has changed me. It has totally changed me. All for the better. I am more sure of myself and comfortable in my skin than I have ever been. I’m resilient. I’m empathetic. I like myself a lot. If I do meet someone, if I do one day get to be a parent, I’ll be all the better at it for this experience. I guess it’s our darkest moments that test what we’re made of. Here are some Ted Talks to illustrate my point.

So I need to make a decision as to what to do with my blog. It will be here forever in cyberspace, hoping to offer comfort and advice and reassurance to poor broken hearts who Google points my way.

But I’ve finally put my own heart back together.

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The ups and downs of breakup recovery

11 Jul

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I feel a little down today.

Mainly because I am so exhausted. And so hormonal.

And, I’ll admit it, I thought a little about my ex this morning. Probably precisely because I am so exhausted and so hormonal.

But tomorrow is Saturday, which means I know I won’t be down for long.

I guess this is the next stage in this break up saga – mostly feeling fan-fricking-tastic, but occasionally getting caught a little off-guard by some sad thoughts.

I’m OK with that. It’s still a billion times better than being the April of July 2013 – blissfully happy and blissfully ignorant.

Here’s to Fridays, my blogger buddies.

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Yesterday was plain awful

10 Jul

Funny crazy looking cat picture

Yesterday was stupid.

I woke up at 4.30am, and couldn’t get back to sleep. So I went for a run just after 5. I had to be in work shortly after that, but stopped to treat myself to a fruit cup and coffee from Pret.

Uh. Oh. This was where I should just have turned around and gone back to bed. The fruit was dried out and sour. The coffee had milk in it. I don’t do milk. I don’t like it. It’s makes me gag. And, on more than one occasion, vomit. What a way to ruin a coffee – and my Wednesday.

Then work began. And did not stop. It went on, and on, and on. Until around 6.30pm when I was thinking I could get ready to pack up and go home, but answered a call from the New York office. One of my team hadn’t sent their work on. The buck stops with me. And when I couldn’t get through to him on the phone, or find the files on the server, I had to redo the work.

(I should also mention that by this point in the day I had consumed at least 7,000 calories. I do not think this would have happened had I enjoyed my fruit cup that morning.)

I left work, and it was raining. I decided I needed to walk a lot to try and calm myself and get some exercise, so walked up to Islington to go to Waitrose and buy some pumpkin ravioli. At the back of my head, I kept thinking I would not have time to digest said ravioli before bed, but I wanted it so much.

Cue a mini meltdown in Waitrose when every single person on the tills decided to just stop and chat to their customers for a good ten minutes rather than actually serve anyone else. Cue customers behind me hassling me to hassle the checkout staff. It was all very stressful.

And then there were no buses.

I got in the door to my flat, anxious to get this pumpkin ravioli cooking ASAP. And the phone rang. It was my Dad.

“Dad, I literally just got in the door.”

By this point it is past 9pm.

And he talks, and talks, and talks. Mainly about the weather.

I got kind of snippy. Then made my ravioli, ate it in a rush, and then called him back to apologise for being a grump, at which point my Mum wanted to talk.

I stuffed myself with more chocolate.

DID I MENTION HOW HORMONAL I AM RIGHT NOW?

And went to bed.

It was a stupid day.

But what I really wanted to tell you all is that I did not cry. I got angry with a few people, but I did not end up locked in a cubicle at work trying to calm down. And I didn’t wish that I was coming home to someone to tell about my day and cuddle and love.

I was, in fact, 100% delighted when I put down the phone to my parents, turned on the TV, and had a good hour to myself before falling asleep.

This, my friends, is progress.

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What we can learn from flowers

1 Jul

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It has been rainy here in London.

And I’ve been working my paws off on several big projects.

Yesterday I planned to get out of work on time and go to yoga. Then I was going to make a delicious dinner. And watch Catfish.

In reality this is how things played out: I got stuck in a (very boring) meeting until 7.30pm. I left work while it was raining cats and dogs and what definitely felt like elephants. When I got home there was no food in the fridge. I fell asleep trying to watch Catfish.

But, on the way home I did stop to buy myself flowers. Beautiful pink gerberas to be precise. There’s a photo above. Just look at the gorgeous little poppets.

Today, I think work was even more stressful than yesterday. I got home exhausted (having missed yoga again) and saw my flowers on the windowsill which cheered me up immensely. And then I noticed that while I was at work and the sun had been shining in on them, each flower had turned to face the direction of the light.

Let this be a lesson to us all, my lovely blogger buddies.

Even on rainy days, turn towards the sunshine.

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The morning

24 Jun

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Now that the sun comes streaming in my bedroom window at about 4am every day, I’ve been resetting my body clock and getting up super early.

I’m usually up before six. I get dressed and go running just after six. Quick turnaround, wash and dry my hair (which admittedly takes a very long time), and then on to work.

I like the morning. I like early morning. I like feeling like I’m part of some secret club with other morning people when the rest of the world is still tucked away under the covers. Lazy sods. It’s like we’re all in collusion. As if nobody else knows that the buses are so quiet at this time. That my hour-long bus journey takes only ten or fifteen minutes when there’s no traffic on the roads. That the people in my coffee shop are so much friendlier at 7am, and sometimes even let me have a taste of muffins and cakes they’ve been making for the day ahead.

It’s calming and exciting all at once. The day is full of promise, but there’s a serenity to the brightness.

Even better when you know that, despite the stress and the fact you won’t be leaving the office until much, much later that evening, there are nice things waiting, like emails from special people, or songs to listen to. And coffee. Mmmmm. Coffee.

I just wish I could hit pause and make this part of the day last longer. Because, before you know it, other people start arriving in the office, and it gets noisier, and busier, and the stress kicks in, and the phones start ringing, and then it’s 4pm and you haven’t had your lunch yet, or delivered half the projects that you were supposed to. And you find yourself locked in a toilet cubicle trying to catch your breath before a conference call with the client from hell.

If only everything was as lovely as the very start of the day.

Much like the very start of relationships.

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Karma

19 Jun

Full Leaf Tea Latte

I believe in Karma.

Which is why Irish Two and I get into arguments when I say, “But it’s not fair! Why am I alone? I’m so nice!” .

And he responds, “Where does this concept of fairness come from? Life isn’t fair.”

Admittedly there are times I feel like calling Karma to let it know that it missed someone.

But this morning it was spot on. Please excuse the fact I am a total meanie in this post.

This whole week I’ve had an on-off migraine. Nice. Real nice. It’s been so bad that it put me off coffee. So in the mornings I’ve been popping into Starbucks for a little chai tea latte to start the day. This morning I got to Starbucks, opened the door to step through and a couple of assholes wandered right in ahead of me. I was mad as hell.

There was a big queue (which I would have been further up had they not pushed past me).

I waited and waited.

Of course their drinks came first. Then they annoyed me by pushing past me to get to the ‘cinnamon/sugar/milk’ preparation area. And then they annoyed me even more when I was ready to dust my drink with vanilla and they were still standing there chatting.

I watched, then, as the female asshole’s bag fell forward, knocking over her coffee, which spilt everywhere.

I confess. I smiled a little.

I stepped over the spilt coffee. Grabbed the pot of vanilla. Sprinkled some on my delicious chai tea latte. Smiled at the assholes. And left.

Thanks, Karma.

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Stress

17 Jun

There are days that the stress of my job overwhelms me.

Today is one of those days.

I’ve removed myself from the office to sit on some steps outside for ten minutes and calm down. My head is thumping. My heart is pounding. I feel an intense, itchy need to scream.

I can’t help but feel that if I had gone home to someone last night, or woken up with someone this morning, my stress from yesterday wouldn’t have carried over into today.

As it is, there’s no release.

I’ll be a wreck by Friday.

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What I have

15 Jun

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OK, I’ve thought about it and decided the best way to deal with not knowing who I am anymore is to start with the good stuff. So here we go: ten things that I still really like about myself.

1. I like that I make what is probably the best aubergine parmigiana in the world. No, wait. Definitely the best. But it’s not just the parm itself I like, I like the fact that I only make it for people I love. Because it takes hours to make and stinks out my flat, it’s reserved for very, very special friends and family. I like that I show my love through food. It keeps me authentically Italian. Or at least part Italian.

2. I like that I’m not arrogant. Yes, yes, of course I’d like to be just a little more confident at times. And not doubt myself so damn much. But there’s no fear of me ever alienating people by being an arrogant twat. So, you know, yay me for that.

3. I like how much I love animals. I like that I’ve been helping to keep pandas alive by sponsoring them for the past five years. Not to mention the monkeys, penguins, leopards and tigers who I’ve also donated to. I like that I stop to say hi to cats and dogs who I meet in the street. I like that I can sit in the park for hours imagining the conversations that dogs are having with their owners.

4. I like that I laugh a lot. OK, so maybe the therapist and Irish Two reckon I come across as miserable, but I know I spend a lot of my day laughing. I know it only takes one look at this clip to set me off in hysterics. I know that before all this happened I used to regularly have trouble falling asleep at night because I was laughing so hard at things that had happened during the day. Life is funny.

5. I like that I can make fun of myself. That I know I’m a geek. That when someone leaves a date with me after only 40 minutes, pretending to be ill, I find it humorous enough to post on Facebook.

6. I like that I’m one of the most empathetic people I know. It’s probably because I’m such a bl**dy sensitive cat, so at least I do have the ability to channel that into helping others. And I like that I feel good when I do help others. I’m no saint. There’s nothing selfless about it: it makes me feel nice. But I’d rather that made me feel nice than kicking kittens or tossing hedgehogs at a wall. Or breaking people’s hearts.

7. I like that through everything that happened last year I never missed a day of my new job. I never thought about it at the time, but physically forcing myself out of bed and into the shower when I was lying, sleep-deprived, food-deprived, tortured by sadness, with tears streaming, is one of the bravest things I’ve ever had to do. There were days I considered giving up. I very nearly asked to take a month off to get my sh** together. Who knows, maybe I should have. But I chose to keep going. And I did keep going.

8. I like that I have learned appreciation. Some of my friends met the love of their life before they even turned 21. Some shortly after. And they are nearly all now married and making new people. I’m alone. As far as I’m concerned, life has spoilt them. When it happens for me, OK, if it happens for me, I’ll appreciate it so much more. If I ever find someone who actually likes me enough to want to spend their life with me, I’ll never take them for granted. Never. Ever.

9. I like how excited I get about stuff. I like that I start packing for holidays weeks in advance. I like that I count sleeps and make lists and daydream. I like that last time I went to Disney World (unfortunately the time that I broke up with the ex-before-the-ex), I was so excited I ran out of the hotel room without my flipflops on. My ex sometimes told me I got, “too excited” about things. What a f***ing c***.

10. I like my friends. My real-life friends. My blogger buddies. All of you. I like that I can pick up the phone to people around the world, or type out an email, and know there’s someone at the other end who cares and who’ll respond. And I like knowing that if all these wonderful, smart, funny, caring people value me as a friend, then I must be wonderful, smart, funny and caring too.

Maybe I don’t exactly come across as a ray of f***ing sunshine right now. But as a buddy put it earlier in the week, my beating heart was ripped out of my f***ing chest. I’m allowed to be sad sometimes.

I’ll get back to the person I thought I was. With a little more baggage. But a lot more wisdom. Eventually.

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What do I have?

14 Jun

confused-cat

I had a couple of weird conversations this week that, frankly, knocked me for six. “Oh, don’t bother listening to people who make you feel bad!” I hear you cry.

And usually I’d agree. Except in this instance it was my therapist and Irish Two. My therapist is a professional. And she’s never been wrong before about stuff. Irish Two, well, I knew he wasn’t being an asshole. He was delivering some home truths.

I’ve always considered myself a bubbly, friendly, happy joy to be around. Turns out I don’t come across that way at all. I come across as “low energy” and “unhappy”. Or, “nice but sad” as Irish Two put it.

So I’m left wondering: was I always this way? I thought I was starting to feel more like myself. Was I ever a bubbly, friendly, happy joy to be around?

Ugh. I do not want to be a big old drain on everyone else’s happiness.

I lost my mind for a couple of days, emailing everyone I know asking what kind of person they think I am. I also had some email chat with a blogger buddy (you know who you are) who made me feel approximately ten thousand times better.

But when I wake up every morning I’m still feeling confused as to who I am and who I’m supposed to be and who I was before the pizza of doom. Through the whole mess of the past ten and a half months I never doubted that I’m a good, kind, fun, friendly person. If I don’t even have that, then what do I have?

Yes, what do I have?

It’s not an entirely rhetorical question. I’ll answer tomorrow.

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