Flicking through the pages of 'Vogue', it's hard not to feel
shit about life. Images of rake-thin, beautiful women abound, their waif-like
frames hanging off impossibly sharp cheekbones. Glossy photos of smug
celebrities grace the pages, flaunting their perfect lifestyles. Each turn of
the page reveals a tantalising smorgasbord of skirts, shoes, tops and bags,
each promising to make your life perfect in exchange for prices of
mortgage-sized proportions. As you munch your way through an entire pack of Maryland
cookies whilst sporting your favourite fleecy pyjamas, with toothpaste dotted
all over the stubborn pocks on your face, it's hard not to feel disheartened
and downtrodden.
But what if this doesn't pass as soon as
you fling 'Vogue' across the room? What if you wake every morning with an
agonising knot in your stomach and a general feeling of dread? What if the
simplest tasks leave you gasping for breath, trying to quell the rising panic?
What if you spend much of your time blinking back the tears, willing your chin
not to wobble? What if everything feels like just ... too ... MUCH? Then, my
darling, there is every chance you are suffering from anxiety or depression (or
both – hell, in for a penny, in for a pound).
Women in their 20s and 30s are under a
huge amount of pressure. The pressure to be thin, perfect and happy is
reinforced everyday through the media. We're constantly bombarded with demands
on our time and wallets. We're expected to be high-powered career women, yummy
mummies, sex kittens and domestic goddesses, all in one go. It's no wonder that
sometimes the pressure to be perfect all gets a bit much. Depression, stress
and anxiety are at an all-time high among young women, yet most cases go
undiagnosed as many girls aren't even aware of the full extent of their stress.
How do I know? Well, I was one of them. I
had a stressful job, an embarrassing lack of self-esteem, and a severe case of
compulsive perfectionism. I'd get up at 5am each morning to beat the morning
rush hour, ignoring the rising fear in my gut. I'd be at my desk by 7am, and
would skip every breaktime to keep up with my mounting piles of work. I'd get
home by 7pm, cook dinner, burble witlessly at my fiance and pass out by 9pm on
the sofa, before rising at 5am the next morning to repeat the process all over
again. "Of course I feel like shit," I'd tell myself. "I have a
full-time job which stresses me out. It's perfectly normal to dread the dawn of
each day." My loved ones desperately tried to suggest that maybe I should slow
things down a bit, as I sobbed helplessly at the bottom of my wardrobe because
my favourite angora cardigan was nowhere to be found. But still I blithely
ploughed on, oblivious to the impending earthquake that was to shake my
world.
Shortly after I turned 30, having ignored
advice, warnings, pleas and ultimatums, I broke down. Utterly. For 6 long
months, I recuperated at home, supported by my wonderful family, a brilliant GP
and a superb therapist. I knitted, I walked, I slept ... a lot. I cried
endlessly, tears of rage, despair, frustration and utter exhaustion. The black tunnel
seemed endless.
But here I am, 3 and a half years on,
almost entirely healed with a job, a wonderful husband, a beautiful daughter and an amazing new
outlook on life. I had to navigate my way through hell to get here, and as I
was doing so the one thing I was determined about was that something positive
should come of all the mess and tears. I stubbornly vowed that if I could
stop this happening to someone else, then all the shit would have been worth
it.
And so, Mad Cow Disease and Me was born.
It's a practical guide for helping women in their 20s and 30s to understand and
cope with depression and stress. Unlike many self help books, this is written
from a real-life perspective, rather than a clinical one. In my entries I hope
to help you understand what to expect from your illness and treatment, as well
as provide practical advice on how to cope. I'll also be sharing articles, memes, photos and the best that the Web has to offer about mental illness. It's written by a girl who has
battled depression and anxiety (and continues to do so), for girls with
depression and anxiety, and I send it to you with my love.
Xxx
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