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This is what my life has become. Applying for this, applying for that and applying for whatever will take me. Why? Because I cannot do what I’m currently doing for much longer. The excruciating feeling of waking up every morning knowing that you’ve got to walk in there for another day, put your headset on, adjust your microphone and say for the first of many times during that nine-hour shift, “You’re through to Ciara in Waterford. How can I help you today?” in your most pleasant tone.
Slowly, I can feel myself gradually closing myself off from the world because of this unhappiness. The chronic headaches have returned making lifting my head from the pillow a painful task. How is it that only two weeks ago I felt like I was on top of the world, and now I’m back feeling like this? Because the real world stepped in again, that’s how. That week off feels like it was all a dream now, a dream that I would like to continue to relive each day. The moment of sitting on a bench of the rooftop garden in my friend’s apartment at 2am during my trip to Dublin constantly replaying in my mind.
It’s almost a year since my last depressive episode. Feeling this way draws the fear back in of the possibility of going through another one. I don’t need this. I don’t want this. And I know so much has changed in that year, the majority of it positive, but I know the littlest thing could set me back. The saying, “one step forward, two steps back” comes to mind. I can feel the black dog coming back. The numbness within my body. The lack of motivation to do anything. The poor verbal communication coming out of my mouth. The constant need to be alone. The fearful need of self-destruction to feel something. It’s slowly but surely returning.
The only motivation I have within me nowadays is to dance. My private and group dance classes are the only things I genuinely look forward to, and they never disappoint. In fact, they make me feel like I’m walking on air afterwards. On Monday August 22nd, I had been feeling very unwell in work with a chronic headache and fluctuating temperature, but decided to stay in until the end of my shift because I had dancing afterwards. If I had gone home sick, I wouldn’t have been able to go to the class. I went, and despite how ill I felt during and afterwards, I knew it was worth it to cheer myself up. Those guys never fail to put a smile on someone’s face!
As I said, dancing is my only motivation. I hate saying that because of how much I love the gym. I started going to the gym intensely before I was really attending all of these dance classes. When I first began going to the gym, the endorphins which were being released from my body gave me (what I thought was) the same feeling I would get from dancing, only to realise down the line that they were different. Of course, I still go to the gym at least three times per week and get a rush from it, but it’s not dancing. Nothing will ever give me that same feeling as dancing gives me and in a way, that frustrates me. I want those squats, deadlifts and bicep curls to give me that same feeling. The dancing rush is addictive.
My eating habits have gone completely out of the window. It all started during my week off, indulging in everything around me but due to lack of preparation on my part, the indulging never stopped. This lack of preparation is due to being lazy and unhappy because of my current mindset. This mindset is so hard to escape. I find myself looking in the mirror constantly, pointing out each layer of fat reappearing so quickly because of my disobedience towards my diet. Weighing myself, pulling at my chubby cheeks, hiding my stomach under baggy clothes and concealing my breaking out skin are once again becoming part of my daily routine. I’m going backwards when I need to go forwards.
I began The Ciara Chronicles as personal project, like a diary of self-improvement. I wrote today’s post like a diary entry because I needed to write down how I was feeling. I needed to get everything out that was running through my mind since I’ve been back to work. I needed to acknowledge my lack of motivation to perform any tasks other than dancing. I needed to actually reiterate my thoughts to clarify that I’m not feeling OK. I needed to realise that my actions are forms of self-destruction.
Self-improvement more than likely is not going to be a smooth road for anyone, and that is why I am proud of myself for starting my blog. In the past, I’ve looked over my early posts where I’ve mainly focused on my mental health, then realised how far I’d come at that moment in time. This may be a setback but I can only hope that writing about this will be the restarting of everything again. I hope to look back on this post in the future and see self-improvement at that time.
Thanks for reading, and sorry for it being slightly all over the place. It ended up a little like projectile word vomit (it’s better out than in)!
Until next time…
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