A few weeks ago I read a very well written article in Vice about living with anxiety (full article here http://www.vice.com/en_uk/read/anxiety-and-me-189?utm_source=vicefbuk )
These particular words stuck out to me: “How did I go from telling no one about my issues to writing in such detail here, you might rightly ask. To which there is a very simple answer: people all over the world plough the internet every day searching for mirrors to their own pain, looking for evidence that people have overcome dire mental discomfort. An echo. When I was unwell, that is all I wanted – some idea that I could come out of those black woods.”
As soon as I read this, I thought back to some of the wonderful posts on Hyperbole and a Half ( http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/ ), and the way that I cried on reading the blog for the first time, because I had found that ‘mirror.’ Allie Brosh uses cartoons on her blog and manages to speak so clearly what so many people have been trying to describe.
Inspired by Allie’s cartoons and the way that they spoke to my heart, and to thousands of others, I have felt compelled to give a new medium a try with a little series of my own cartoons. Maybe, just maybe, they will provide someone with a ‘so it’s not just me’ moment. Excited to be working again with This Space ( http://www.thisspace.org/ ), who will publish this.
SPOILER ALERT: you will not be struck by my artistic flare. This is not a talent I have been hiding.
So, today I’m ruminating (this is a word I have just re-discovered, and love) on destructive thought patterns, and in particular on the all too familiar spiral of negativity that can arise from a very normal and non-threatening situation.
Sometimes someone saves you from the spiral.
But learning to self-medicate is often necessary.
Yes. Miranda, tea and europop. Eurovision is my crack cocaine. The secret is out. Only moderately less dangerous (you might be blinded by all those sequins).
People say I can be a bit full-on as a friend. I guess you may not need me to send you presents and stupid pictures every week. But I make a policy of telling somebody when I think about them.
Because you never know who’s death spiralling, and which friend you might pull away from the clutches of despair and the ‘way out’ sign.