1. Happiness. Everyone wants happiness, so I’m not unique in that respect. I want to get to the point in my life where anxiety doesn’t feature and I can allow myself to be happy without questioning it or purposely breaking it apart. I’m not expecting life-long unadulterated joy, but I’d like some peace within myself.
2. My own home, be it a flat, a bedsit, or a house. I’ve grown up under a blanket of overprotectiveness, and my brief forays into living away from home have always ended in disaster because of my urgency to get away from the house I grew up in. I need more independence than living here can offer me; I’m stagnating here. A friend of mine offered S and I her house to rent when she leaves the country next year, and I dearly hope it happens. I need it to happen, I’m going crazy being surrounded by these walls and motherly constrictions. I don’t care that money will be tight, and I don’t mind paying bills, finding enough for the rent and buying my own food. I want to do these things.
3. Boots. I utterly adore knee-length boots, and will do anything to get hold of them. I order most of mine from a company called Duo; they make them to your calf size, so they always fit. They’re expensive, but worth it. I’m currently hankering after a mid-calf pair in brown leather with buckles.
4. To learn how to make my own clothes. I’m an odd body shape and size; hourglass, with big boobs and broad shoulders, big hips and a small waist. It sounds like the perfect female figure, but it really isn’t. Buying clothes is a nightmare, they simply don’t exist for women of my proportions. Jeans won’t go over my hips, but are massive on the waist. Shirts and blouses gape at the front. Bras always have too-thin straps to hold the weight. I’m never an exact size either; I’m always a 9, 11, 13, 15… not the usual 8, 10, 12, 14, 16. Most fashions look awful on me, but it’s hard to get well-tailored items which aren’t highly fashionable. I’d love to make my own patchwork skirts and dresses.
5. A dream recording machine. Seriously, how great would that be?
6. An antidepressant with no side effects. Similarly, a contraceptive pill with no side effects. I know it’s an incredibly tall order, and it’s very much in the ‘impossible dream’ section of my brain. I resisted antidepressents for a long time in my late teens and early twenties, after some very negative experiences with Effexor, Mellaril and Clomipramine. Effexor worked brilliantly for about a year, when I was sixteen. I was a new person; energetic, less prone to panic, and slightly happier. It seemed like the miracle drug. One day I woke up and wanted to die, overdosed on two packets of them, had a seizure and ended up in hospital under constant observation. Mellaril, I partly blame for my emotional state now; I was prescribed it at the age of thirteen by a child psychiatrist I’d been seeing for self harm and instability, and straight away it changed me. I became violent and angry, I saw things, I had aural hallucinations. I cried constantly and took to harming myself on an hourly basis, just to let the badness out. I became psychotic and had to be admitted to a child psychiatric unit. I don’t hold the medication entirely to blame for that (I was on a downward spiral way before it was prescribed), but it certainly didn’t help. Clomipramine did nothing for me. My moods stayed the same. I stayed introverted and grief stricken by nothing.
Now, I’m settled on Cipralex, amitriptyline and beta blockers, but they all have side effects. I’m always slightly removed from what’s happening, I can’t quite touch the world. They make me exhausted in the mornings and unable to sleep at night. They make me itch. Cipralex affects my stomach. Still, I’m glad I gave up resisting; I’d be dead without a little chemical help.
7. I want to be special to somebody.