A Follow-Up Of The Last Blog I Wrote (The Anxiety One)

This blog will probably be brief because I have a History exam tomorrow and I haven’t revised today and I am panicking. Seriously, I cannot remember anything about Weimar Germany, or Hitler’s Germany, or the Middle East Conflict. Well, I can remember two things: Article 48, and 700,000 Palestinian refugees. That is all. That is why I am screwed. That is why I should be revising and not blogging.

However, I want to write this blog because I want to talk about the last blog I wrote (the one about anxiety). You see, normally when I write a blog, I get maybe ten new page views, and no new comments for about six months. With this blog, I had about 150 new page views, and three comments, making it my most popular blog to date.

When I wrote it, I did not think anybody would read it. My main aim was to write it so there was a chance my friends would see it, which I don’t think they did. I wrote it because I was so frustrated, and I wanted to express that extreme frustration in the only way I could, hence the fact I wrote over two thousand words.

And suddenly I get all these positive comments, and people telling me I’m brave, and it’s kind of overwhelming, because I’m just me. I’m nothing extraordinary; I’m just Eliza, just a girl who writes about the things that she can’t take her mind off. Now there are all these people telling me that I’ve written exactly what they feel, and to me that is the ultimate achievement.

My aim as a writer is to write something that affects people, that reaches deep into the core of their being. And if I have managed to write something which is even a fraction as powerful as that, then I feel as though I am on my way to where I want to be. Writing is who I am, but it often feels like that side of me is kept behind closed doors, because people don’t want to see it. If you mention books to someone at my school, you are most likely to receive one of these reactions: “Duuus raaaeeedin’ maaaehk yehr smart? Maaaybe aaah shuud raaaeed.” Or “buuurrrkks are shit” (the weird vowel placement is to emphasise the accent).

I think the writer side of me is often overlooked by people, because it is the part of me that is often melancholy, and sometimes melodramatic, and it’s the part of me that says crazy things, and writes about murder and cannibalism on a mock exam. Even though this is only one part of my personality, it is a major part, and people pretend it isn’t there, pretend a part of me doesn’t exist so that they can fit me into that damaging prison that is commonly known as “normal”.

The other side of me is my happy side, the girl with the sense of humour, the girl who always makes people laugh. I don’t really show that side of me at school, because how can you shine when people are trying to put out your light? People always ask me why I’m sad, or say that I look like I’ve been crying, even when I’m happy. I don’t even know why that is. Perhaps I just have this sad aura or something.

When I write, I tap into the melancholic side of me, I tap into my “gothic imagination” (my English teacher’s description of me, after she read the short story I wrote for coursework where the woman stabs herself because snakes grow out of her head). There’s a part of me which doesn’t really belong in the real world, a part of me that has this homesickness for a place that doesn’t exist, a world that doesn’t exist. And perhaps that is why I write.

In The Choices We Made (the book I am currently writing) I express this side of me a lot more than I have in my previous books. My main character suffers from anxiety and depression and eating disorders, and because of this she is even more melancholic than I am. She develops many control issues, and becomes a dictator. Or at least, she will when I write more. But I love writing that book, because I can express the darkness within me, the side of me that I don’t like people to see because I don’t want to impose on them with my problems.

Anyway, the blog I wrote two days ago, it was my way of expressing that side of me. None of my friends read it, so my entire reason for writing it turned out to be in vain. However, I am glad I wrote it, because the response has been absolutely amazing.

Since writing that blog, I have taken some steps to make things better for myself. I spoke to my friends about the prom table thing, and they were like “Of course you can sit with us!” so all my anxiety about that turned out to be a waste of energy. And yesterday I spent about two hours alone with one of my friends, and we talked a lot. Even though we didn’t talk much about the things I wrote in that blog, I did bring up the subject. But the best thing about yesterday was that this friend said to me ‘You’re part of our group now’. This almost moved me to tears, because it’s all I ever wanted, being part of a group. And it turned out that we hated loads of the same people, and I got to find out lots of embarrassing stories about people I detest, so I spent an hour laughing hysterically.

Today I spent a bit of time with friends, too, and I am beginning to feel like things are getting better, like I’m forming bonds with my friends. But even so, there are always game changers, always unexpected things that get in the way (or even things that aren’t unexpected, but still get in the way) whether that be friends getting boyfriends, meaning they presumably have less time for friendships, or some other event that alters the course we are set on.

Another occurrence today was my second English Literature exam. It did not go well. I wasn’t in a very good head space when I went into the exam hall, and I tried deep-breathing and everything, but it didn’t help. And then I saw that the question options were both on structure, and I suck at structure, I’m much better at writing about theme, and I’m bad at that too. Analysing poetry is not my strong point. And I felt anxious and nervous, and it just wasn’t good. Life lesson: don’t go into an exam feeling sad.

After the exam I went and cried in the toilets for two minutes.

Speaking of exams, and doing badly in them, I must go and do some last-minute History revision, so I don’t undo the alright grade I probably got from the first paper of the History exam.