BBC It's a Mad World: Free Speech

Things didn't start off well, when four minutes in one of the panelists suggested that mental illness was down to us all being tired.            

When called up on that by a member of the audience, who asked "...do you not think it's more complex than that?..." she gave this response:

"There's an awful lot of people making a nice living out of pretending that it's incredibly complex...being depressed is a natural reaction to life, it's not a giant disease, you know I've been depressed, everyone's been depressed"

NO. Just NO. If you think that, then you most definitely have not been depressed. Depression is not having the energy or motivation to get out of bed, not being able to face the day ahead, being exhausted by tasks that other people don't even notice, like getting a shower. It's losing interest in anything in your life, hating yourself, hurting so much that you would rather just kill yourself than have to bear one more second of it. It's feeling utterly bereft and hopeless and worthless...and then feeling nothing at all.

It is NOT just feeling a little down for a couple of weeks and then getting over it.

I think that it is such a huge problem that illnesses like depression and anxiety often seem to be normalised to the degree that people think everyone experiences them and therefore that people should stop being so over-dramatic about them - it's a different kind of stigma than that of say psychosis; people don't tend to think you are "crazy" or a "freak" as much, but they do think you should just get over it "like everybody else". The whole point of it being an illness is that we don't have control, we can't do that.

And apart from anything else, she completely minimised the experience of mental illness to depression. They are not one and the same thing, depression may be the most common, but there are SO MANY people out there struggling with SO MANY other issues.

She goes on to say that to really help people we should focus on practical solutions to problems like poverty, rather than "pumping yourself up with pills" which we don't know the long term effects of.

Yes she may have a point, but that view is mainly a massive oversimplification of the issue of mental health. Not everyone who is mentally ill is in poverty and for those who are, a lot of the time it is as a result of their mental health issues - ignoring that then is only dealing with the symptoms rather than resolving the problem.

When covering social media opinions, one tweet read "I do sympathise that some people have genuine psychological issues and should receive treatment, but most people who use this issue are either attention seekers or mentally weak. People just need to toughen up"

Thankfully, the debate went on to cover far more sensible and less stigmatising viewpoints and another panelist said that one of the positives about modern life (the question was whether modern life was driving us mad) is that "people are able to speak about mental illness in a more open way and I think that's a positive thing - there's a decrease in the stigmatisation of suffering from a mental illness"

Whilst I think that that is true, the views that some people clearly still hold show that there is still a long way to go and much improvement to be made. This makes me glad of communities like Minds Like Ours, who have come together to fight the stigma together!

www.mindslikeours.co.uk
BBC Free Speech Programme

Has anyone else seen the programme? What are your thoughts?

Where depression started...

I've been reading back some old journals for therapy, trying to have a look at how things developed. Some of the entries make me want to cry, because I remember feeling that way, but it's so wrong for some one so young to have to feel that way, because of the way people treat her. Looking back now on who I was then, I can see that I didn't deserve it. Yes, I was slightly on the heavier side, but that wouldn't have turned into the hell it did if people didn't feel the need to constantly focus on it. On the one side is the bullying, ensuring that I was always the outsider, making me believe that I wasn't a 'good' person; I was selfish, boring and unwanted. Next to that was the constant commentary on my weight - "Do you really need beans with that meal?", "That dress would look so nice if you lost half a stone", "I can't afford to keep buying you bigger clothes" and of course the favourite insult of "fattie" employed by my brothers. Inevitably, my head reasoned "No wonder they don't like you - they can't dear to be seen with you, look at you. If only you could lose weight, be thin like everyone else, THEN you'd be accepted".

But I couldn't. No matter how hard I tried I always failed. I spent so much time alone and food was the only thing that was there for me in those times. It was all I had, how could I give that up too? Then I'd have nothing. So I figured, okay, I'll make myself sick then. I can still eat the food, but not keep the calories - perfect solution! But I couldn't even do that right. It just wouldn't happen. So the self-disgust, self-hatred just grew and grew until it had nothing to do with anyone else anymore, I didn't need them to hate me, I hated myself enough for all of them.

So this is where it started.
Some of it is too much to put on here.
But I'll leave you with my 15 year old thoughts.

23.12.07 (age 15)

...I'm also starting to despise myself 'cause I'm so horrible and ungrateful to Mam and Dad and don't do much to help them. Also, that I don't seem to be good enough for my friends and there must be something wrong with me 'cause I'm involved in every argument. And I care about them so much, but they don't seem to care about me at all and the people I should care about most, I don't care enough for although they sacrifice loads for me.
I really want someone to talk to, a friend who'll understand 'cause no one I know ever will.

29.03.09 (age 16)

I don't know where I am. I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel like I'm not really living, it's like everything is moving too fast and I can't keep up. It's like I'm separate from everything around me. But why do I feel this way? What possible reason is there for me to be like this? It's pathetic. The only time I exist is at school, otherwise it's like I'm drifting.
But why?! There's nothing massively wrong in my life. It's like Mam said before - "When's it going to stop being all me me me?" I'm being completely self-centered and I don't want to be like this, but I can't seem to help it. Exams in seven weeks. And still it doesn't feel real. What am I doing? There's no sense of urgency...there's no anything.

19.05.09 (age 16)

I can't deal with this anymore - it's getting so out of hand...I need help but I can't tell anyone...I just can't take it all anymore. The stress just gets to me. I don't even want the food. I don't even know why I eat it.

A lifelong illness?

Amy recently posed the question "Depression - in it for life?". This is a really difficult question and one I've struggled with a lot. Some disorders, such as bipolar, are generally accepted to be lifelong, although they can be controlled with medication. It would make sense then for this to apply to other mood disorders i.e. depression. And the reality is that whilst you can control behaviours to some degree we cannot control how we feel - and what if those feelings never completely go away?

I think the honest answer is that depends on the individual. Some may experience a single episode of depression and then recover completely. Some may live their whole life with a low level of depression. Some may alternate periods of complete wellness with complete disability and still others may struggle with it for years, cycling through mild and severe periods and yet eventually make a full recovery.

I believe heredity must have an influence - my mum and grandma have also struggled with long-term depression and eating issues. Age is also an important factor. Particularly those people who have struggled throughout their teenage years - our brains grow through major changes at this time and it makes sense that mental illness during these critical years could leave a permanent mark, adapting our systems to be more vulnerable to depression. And this way we have never known an alternative.

Personally, I view my depression as a chronic illness that needs to be managed. The correct cocktail of treatments will become a part of my routine and control the symptoms, flare ups will be more likely when under stress and will need additional treatment. But I don't think this is the same for everyone.

Perhaps it could end up better than I imagine. Maybe there will come a day when I don't think about depression at all (my own depression that is, given that I want to become a therapist), a time when I am so recovered that I don't particularly need to keep an eye on it. But this illness has been with me so long that I can't imagine who I would be without it. Even when I go through extended periods of relative wellness I have never felt recovered, I've never felt that it has left me, I've never forgotten.

During the good times I can accept that this might be the way it has to be, that perhaps depression is just a part of the person I am, that 98% recovery is good enough. But when I am ill I dread that I will never be free of it, that it has forever left its mark.

Maybe a tendency towards depression isn't necessarily a bad thing. Provided that it is well controlled, we may even be able to use to our advantage those thought patterns so detrimental in depression. Some of its traits can be beneficial in small doses - perfectionism can motivate us to achieve our best, overthinking may help us to make that major change that is needed, a slip downwards will be more noticeable and prompt us to change things more quickly. Emphasis on the small doses of course.

As the saying goes, the light shines so much brighter in the darkness and we have experienced such darkness, so how bright must the light be?
Maybe we can translate our horrendous experiences into some good.


Do you view your mental health issues as permanent or transient? Chronic or recoverable?

Limbo

I haven't been blogging, because I haven't known what to say. It almost feels as though I have nothing to say, but I think it's more that I don't know how to put it into words. Whatever it is. Words rarely fail me.

It's not that things are bad - they aren't by any means, but I'm stuck in a sort of "limbo" state of wanting change, knowing what I want, but unable to move forward. ED is not improving and I guess I am just sort of despondent and drifting at the moment.

Anyway, I've always loved Birdy and I realised that the lyrics from "Comforting Sounds" (originally Mew) really resonate with my experiences of depression and eating disorders.

What do you think?

I don't feel alright

In spite of these comforting sounds you make

I don't feel alright

Because you make promises that you break

Into your house 

Why don't we share our solitude?

Nothing is pure anymore

But solitude.

It's hard to make sense 

Feels as if I'm sensing you through a lens

If someone else comes

I'll just sit here listening to the drums

Previously I never called it solitude

And probably you know all the dirty shows I've put on 

Blunted and exhausted like anyone

Honestly I tried to avoid it

Honestly

Back when we were kids

We would always know when to stop 

And now all the good kids are messing up

Nobody has gained or accomplished anything

The disorder tricks us into believing that it can make us happy, yet inevitably it does not work. It isolates us from everyone and everything around, putting up a barrier between us and the world around, forces us to put on a mask, act ‘normal’, which seems unbearable at times but the only option. We used to know how to keep control, but we can’t maintain it anymore, the disorder takes over and stops us from achieving anything.

What other music speaks to you?

Fear of Success

“Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars.

You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.”

- C.S. Lewis -

We all know about fear of failure - we don't do things sometimes, because the consequences if we failed would then be worse than the consequences if we did not try at all. Makes sense.

But no one ever talks about fear of success. Because the truth is that we can fear this more even than failing. Illness provides us with a place of safety and an excuse for failure. If we don't live up to our full potential then we can blame it on our illness, which robbed our lives from us. Recovery means taking responsibility for our own lives, our failures and shortcomings as well as our attributes. What if that is just too much to bear? It is worse to fail when we are being our authentic selves, because it pierces our very being, threatens the person we think we are, our sense of self. And discovering that our image of ourselves is flawed threatens everything - nothing is constant anymore, how can we be sure of other people, of the world, when we cannot be sure that our interpretation of our selves is correct?

A little success also leads to the expectation of greater success, making it all the more disappointing when we inevitably slip up at some point in the process. So we might think "Why take the risk?"

Yet we must. Because whilst it may be difficult to do that thing which you fear, you come through it with a little less fear, a little more belief in yourself and closer to your goal. If we avoid the thing that scares us, then the fear takes over, eats us up, gets stronger and becomes that much more difficult to face the next time. When we do this repeatedly, our lives become wrapped up in a bundle of avoidance of those things we fear, rather than being focused on what it should: building a life around the things we love and the things we want to achieve. And that is not not living, merely getting by.

So do you want to get by? Or do you want to LIVE?

On the whole things are okay

My last post was atrociously negative; but then that's what you get for posting at 3am!

For the most part I am able to reign in the thoughts; reason that just because I don't neatly fit into a category, it doesn't mean that my issues are any less real or important. For the most part.

But then at other times those thoughts and feelings just coalesce into a mess of shame and disappointment and anger that things aren't different - that I am not different. I just have to hold on to the knowledge that I am fighting back and I am trying my best, which is all I can do. 

So I am glad I was honest; it's all about honesty right? That is how it hurts; shame has always prevented me from admitting that that is how I feel to others. It's refreshing to be able to be so honest on here and have people genuinely care. Not that people in my life wouldn't care, if I told them, but I can't talk easily, things get all muddled up and I can't think. I've always been able to explain myself in writing though; I guess that comes from the journals I've always kept - I still have all of them since I was ten, writing has alwasy helped me to work out what it is that I think and feel. Talking on the other hand has always been something I've avoided and I'm only just learning to do that in the past year since being in hospital. 

I need to stop wishing that things were different and start making them different. Which is the hardest part right? Baby steps. And admitting my true feelings is a part of that.

And besides - that was a moment of weakness, because on the whole things are okay at the moment. At least, they have improved and I am glad to be able to just enjoy the fun things for little while now that my exams are over.

Soldiering on!

fat hatred.

I hate this. I hate myself for being so fat. I hate myself for not having any self control. I know it shouldn't matter, it shouldn't define who I am blah blah blah...but it does affect my life. It does matter I can't help it.

I just want to be normal, I want to be able to look in the mirror without wincing, I want to be able to look at photos and think about how much I enjoyed myself not how bad I look. I want to be able to shop in high street shops for clothes, I want to be like every other girl my age. I want all this work I'm putting into recovery to actually pay off. I want to be able to wear nice clothes, to be able to go swimming again, to not have to fight food every waking minute. I want to be able to walk around without being conscious of my body every single second. I want to live my life. Is that so much to ask?

I just want my life back. I'm sick of this.

Probably shouldn't admit this on here, but although I am glad there is so much support to be found online I still don't feel like I fully fit in and have the right to be there - most people struggling with their eating are normal or underweight and their eating disorder makes them feel fat; but I actually am way overweight, like in medical terms. I feel like a fraud. Whatever I've got can't be an eating disorder; I'm not anorexic, not bulimic.  I'm just weak. I just have no willpower. I'm just lazy. I'm just making excuses; I should be able to just lose the weight. Even the professionals think so; in four years they have never taken it seriously until I started to throw up. But that doesn't count anyway, I barely do it.

Don't even know why I'm posting this, I'll probably delete it anyway. Shouldn't be being so negative online, I'm just feeling the need to rant.

Whatever. Pathetic much?

A little perspective

Each day as I finish another exam, and get closer to this all being over, I feel more normal, more alive, more me again.

When depression takes over again, it's so hard not to feel that all the work you've put into recovery so far has gotten you nowhere; you've failed, there's no point, you'll never be completely okay, just always live in fear of it coming back. It completely strips you of concentration, memory, motivation and hope. All you want is sleep and yet even that is denied you.

This is how I've been the last couple of weeks - I reached a tipping point and just couldn't cope with the level of anxiety and pressure I felt any longer. Just the sight of lecture notes filled me with terror, nevermind any attempt to revise them. And then it wasn't just about that anymore - once I reached that point all of the other thoughts and feelings that I associate with depression came rushing back, sensing my weakness.

Fingers crossed I will get mitigating circumstances and be able to resit if I do badly. Although thankful that that system is there, I am disappointed in myself for needing to use it. Almost made it through the year without submitting MCs. Using them makes me feel like I am cheating - I should just take the hit and accept the low grade, it's my fault for not doing the work. But then everyone else doesn't have to deal with the crippling anxiety and depression I get around deadlines. I know that I am capable of better and it's not fair if my illness gets to sabotage my degree, given that I have no control over it.

The point is that my struggling now does not negate the progress I've made. Yes I had to submit MCs, yes I struggled, but that is not equivalent to the months of suicidality I had last year, that doesn't lessen the fact that I have made it through the rest of the year with good grades and requiring no special treatment.

Mostly I am scared of this happening again in a year's time - final year is only going to be so much more intense; it's worth much more and I won't be able to resit if I want to graduate with everyone else. I'm trying to remember that I have plenty of time to figure things out. Yes, I may have struggled with deadlines, but I've met them all and gotten through all my other exams and revision periods well this year. Compared to last year that is massive and if I improve by the same amount in this next year then I'll get through it fine. Guess it's just something else I should talk about in therapy.

This isn't everything you are

"And in one little moment 

It all implodes

This isn't everything you are

Breathe deeply in the silence

No sudden moves

This isn't everything you are

Just take the hand that's offered 

And hold on tight

This isn't everything you are. 

There's joy not far from here, right

I know there is 

THIS ISN'T EVERYTHING YOU ARE"

Our disorders, our struggles our pain - they aren't everything, we are so much more than that. Mental Illness can feel all consuming - it takes over your life and your being, stops you from doing all of those things that you love, seeing the people that you love. But recovery gives us the opportunity to find that part of ourselves again. 

We need to remember the things that we love and the things that are good about ourselves. 

I am a daughter, a sister, a friend. 

I am a good listener and a loyal friend. 

I am a fighter.

I am a writer and a thinker.

I am persevering, committed, proactive. 

I strive to improve myself and the world around me. 

I have the courage to ask for help when I need it. 

I push myself and always try my best.

I am passionate and enthusiastic.

I get involved.

I am empathetic and sympathetic towards others' struggles.

I love spending time with my friends, having a catch up, crying with laughter, being moved by an emotional film, chippie on the seaside with the sun on my face, the cold wind in my hair, sea salt on the breeze and my family beside me. I love day trips to new places, old places, cities, countryside, galleries, museums. I love those moments of peace and contentment when you forget the bad stuff and just live in the moment. I love the satisfaction of a really good film or moving book and that feeling when you read your favourite book or watch your favourite film again, when you can't get enough of a new song and you play it over and over. I love buying presents that I know will really mean something to the receiver and when the rain cleans the air after it has been really hot and humid. 

What do you love?

What is important to you?

What are your strengths?

Ridiculous, I know.

It crucifies you over and over, ripping you apart even as you try to sew yourself back together again. I can feel the thick fog rolling over the horizon, folding me in, blocking all my senses, suffocating me. I always thought that if it came back like before I wouldn't survive it...this might be that time. Scared, I am so scared for depression to take over once more. I "know" that there are good things in my life, but my hold on them is slipping away, I can't remember anymore.

All of the self destructive urges are there and how can I resist them all simultaneously?

A day in the life of this:
Sleep. For as long as possible.
Eat and eat and eat, then bring it all back up.
Cut.
Curl into a ball and weep.
Sleep some more.
Act okay - go out, drink. Just a regular student.

Ridiculous? Yes I know.
Yet I cannot control what my mind is throwing at me.
I cannot focus on anything other right now.

I guess all of those things blank everything else out - the behaviours help me to glaze over, for a time, and not be consumed by anxiety and stress and self-hatred and misery and self-disgust and fear...if just for a moment.

I know that this is stupid and fucked up.
It feels better at least to admit what is going on in my head right now.

I hope it lifts soon.

Lets talk about food...

Given that this blog is entitled "Talking is the first step..." I really ought to stand by the philosophy that I will heal through talking; that it takes the pain outside of oneself and only by doing that can the pain start to dissipate. Talking is just so impossible at times! Particularly when you don't even really know what's wrong, just that you 'feel' bad. Mainly what I struggle with though is food; the inability to control it, the bingeing and now the throwing up; it's so shameful to me. It's the deepest thing, one of the most vulnerable parts of me and I'm scared to let it out. But perhaps that is what's stopping me from recovering. I know that I need to face it, I'm just so embarrassed. I don't feel worthy of the time; I'm not thin so I can't have an eating disorder. In reality I know that that's bullshit; but I don't think that the rest of the world does and so I continue to tuck it away, pretend to eat normally, pretend that it's okay.

I know it's time to face it if I really truly do want to recover, it's just so scary. I have just started with a new therapist, who seemed lovely in the first meeting and made me feel comfortable. I've told him now that food is what I need to face, so it's started. Knowing that it is going to be an uncomfortable and painful road though is what scares me. Still, I know that I can trust him, I know that this needs to happen and after all that I've been through I know that I can do this. It's just difficult to deliberately throw yourself back into the fire, knowing that it will raise a lot of really difficult issues.

Is this the right path?

Amy's post raised some important points for me, but I'm not sure where it's left me. The balance of doing what you love and looking after yourself is a hard one to strike, when what you are interested in and what you struggle with is one and the same thing. How do you separate a genuine interest from the intrigue illness gives you? Getting involved whilst you are ill is about connecting with others who understand and trying to understand your own suffering. Recovery means letting go of the illness; but does that include letting go of the interest altogether? How do you know if you'll still want to focus your life on this when you are no longer ill and how do you know whether that is a bad idea?

I've always been interested in Psychology since before I was ill - I remember choosing Sociology GCSE because it was the closest thing I could study at that point and I knew I wanted to do Psychology A-Level. What I don't know, is if my focus was specifically mental health before I got ill. And apart from that - whether my illness affected my interest or not - will it affect my involvement in it now that I have been ill? Will I be able to cope with the stress of seeing that struggle and pain, day in and day out?

Quite honestly, I don't know. I want all the answers, but I guess there would be no point to life if you knew what was going to happen. I'm not recovered and until I am, then no doubt these things will effect me. I can't know how long it will take and I can't know what path I will eventually take. All I can do is work towards the one I have chosen right now.

Who knows where the path will take you?

Light Focus

It's not that there won't be a cloud in the sky. 

Just that I will not lose sight of the sun. 

How can you explain to those who haven't struggled; with depression, an eating disorder, self harm, suicide, whatever the illness; just how wholly consuming mental pain is? It nestles it's way into every part of your story, your life, your being. No the disorder does not define you; but your experiences do and an illness that effects every area of your life is no doubt a major part of molding you into the person you will become. I don't mean this in the sense that you are weakened, destined to be dogged by illness forever, but in the sense that you have known suffering and come through it and the strength and courage and effort that goes into recovery are such that you no not of their existence until you must, until you believe it is the end and you have no more to give and yet still, you manage to draw on reserves that you did not know were there.

It doesn't feel strong or courageous. It hurts, it feels like pain, like weakness, like failure. Beaten down, with seemingly every part of your being ripped away, yet still there is such fight contained into that small being that is left. The part that will not be beaten. The part that seems so small, but is so powerful. The struggle cannot be seen by anyone other than fellow sufferers. Your friends, your family, the people around you "know" that you are hurting. But they don't feel it, the desperation, the clinging onto life, the horror. And then you are "better". "Recovered". "Back to normal". Except that you aren't; the experience will never leave. People may expect you to "move on", which you do, to an extent. But you can never forget. You fought for survival, you didn't know if you would make it. How can people expect that it is over? It is not possible to go on as though nothing happened, you need to talk about it. You need to mourn the part of your life, of you that is lost.

You can become a greater person from the experience; you understand, you have insight in to that which most others do not. You have seen the abyss and survived. The sun shines so much brighter after such darkness. You can appreciate life as no one else can, because it was almost ripped from you. Recovery means getting to know yourself, and knowing yourself you can know what you want from life. You of all people have nothing to lose, when you almost lost your life altogether.

I will find recovery one day. It is an ongoing process, but eventually I hope that there will be a time when I am content and know that whatever happens I will get through it. When I can be happy. Not all the time, with life, for I cannot predict what will happen. But happy in myself; proud of who I am, not hiding or trying to change it, but simply being.

Child me.

When I look back on my self from years past
Child me
I can't help but feel that I let her down
That I have and I do everyday.

She was so beautiful and so full of possibilities
Bright
Inquisitive
Creative
Questioning
Loving books and art and the world
Searching for answers

She looked forward to a life that would matter
That would make a difference
A fulfilling future
To discover new things
Discover everything

A job to work hard at and love every second of it
Loving husband
Children

It's not like she expected it to be this easy
To have it handed to her on a plate
Every life has crap
She could trust that it would happen one day

But she was told differently
Taught how wrong she was
That she wasn't worthy of true friendship
She was laughed at
Played tricks on

Other people constantly warned her that she needed to lose weight
"If you just stop now then it will even out as you grow"
But she didn't
She couldn't

She didn't realise how it would ruin her life

Food was a friend, more than actual friends
It made her feel better
But she felt guilty
She was always being told it was wrong

Eventually she connected the two
Maybe this was why people didn't like her?
Because she was Fat
Maybe this was why people played tricks on her?
Because she didn't look nice
Maybe she just wasn't a nice person
Maybe really it was her fault

If only she was thinner
If only she was more selfless

But she wasn't really Fat
She wasn't really selfish
She was just a kid

She still couldn't give up food
She still couldn't control it
She grew to hate herself for it

She became Fat
And the sadness grew
She became angry
She began to hate

But she couldn't be angry at those people
They were her friends, her family
They put up with her despite what a horrible person she was
It couldn't be their fault
It must be hers

If only she was...
They would like her better
She would be worthy

She tried to change
But she couldn't


Eventually, those people stopped
There were friends who didn't pull her down
That was better

But she still couldn't control food
The pain and the hurt and the anger from all of those years was still there
If it was all over then why did it still hurt?
Things should be okay now
So she pretended they were
And told no one

Proof that her beliefs were true came

For everyone else

Boyfriends

For her

Nothing

She turned the anger and the hate and the pain inwards
Until it was too much
It was too painful
And she didn't feel anything anymore

Then she cut
Into her skin
To feel
To know
Did she really still exist?

To take out the anger
To take out the hurt
To cry
To cleanse
To punish

She got on with things
Did the work
Hid everything

University was going to be the New Beginning
But after a while she realised
That nothing had changed

She couldn't even make friends this time
Proof
She was nothing
She was no one

It was too much
The hurt was too much
Too painful

Food was in control once more
Even cutting didn't help
It wasn't punishment enough
It couldn't block out the pain

She asked for help
But the professionals didn't help
She asked again
She shouted
None came

Until she had no strength left
She just needed the pain to end
In desperation she took the only route left



OOO



In the midst of pain
She realised that this was not the end
The pain would live on without her
It would never end
And her friends
And family
Would have no choice

Unless
She gave them the chance now
To help her
How could they before
When they hadn't known
She needed it?

She told
Hospital treated her body
But it couldn't help her mind

It still hurt
She sometimes wished she hadn't told


But


Eventually


The sun came up one day
Hope
She decided to fight

For the chance
That it might get better

...

She is still fighting
But she was broken
It takes a long time to mend

Scars fade
But some never disappear
Some parts have been lost
She really wants to find them someday

It hurts
That she can never go back
That child is lost



I miss that child.

A lost self. Where is she?

A part of myself has been lost
Through these years of illness
Reading, writing, drawing...
These are the things that I loved to do, that were purely mine.
I miss a time
...when books consumed me,
...when I wrote because the words came gushing out,
...when I drew for the simple pleasure of it.

Where the words went, where she went I do not know.
Where to find her I do not know.

How to just be with myself I can no longer remember.
This is just another thing that illness has taken from me.
Except...
It's not just another thing.
It is my very essence of being.

Alone time during my illness was a guilty pleasure.
Although it hurt so, it was my time to hurt freely.
To be in pain, and to cause my self pain.
Me able to be purely me...
Except it wasn't purely me. It was illness.
And alone time is now tainted by it.

Always waiting in the shadows,
For the opportunity
Of alone time
To pounce and consume once more.

So purely me has been lost
Behind veils of illness and pain
I feel my being rotting without the essence of self...

How can I get her back without letting pain back in?
Without letting pain take control once more?
I don't know how to find her again.

An imperfect recovery...but I've come so far

So it's been a while. Things got on top of me somewhat and in between that uni has been manic.

This time last year I was in a hospital bed less than half a mile from where I am right now, having just had the worst night of my life. My mam, brother and two housemates were chatting to me about normal stuff, whilst parvolex dripped into my arm. It's surreal to think of it now; I actually did that. I actually attempted to take my life. I had been thinking about it for so long and told no-one. It was inevitable really, when no-one knew how was anything ever going to change?

It's hard not to look back on that and think about the what led me to that...and the fact that nothing has changed. I haven't lost weight, I haven't found anyone. I haven't overcome the bingeing and the cutting.

But I can't focus on those things, I need to acknowledge those things that have changed. I may not have stopped bingeing and cutting completely, but I have gained a lot of control over those behaviours. Even though that has slipped over the last few weeks, I am a long way from the depths of desperation I was in then. And I have had much more control in recent months than I have had in the last few years. That's an achievement worth celebrating.

I don't wake up every morning wondering if today will be the day that I give up and I don't put off going to bed simply because I don't want to wake up. I don't hoard food and plan when I can next binge. I don't have to find a chance to buy first aid things without anyone noticing. I don't cry myself to sleep.

Most of all I talk about how I feel. If I'm having a bad day, then I tell one of my housemates that I'm struggling today and if I need to talk about it then we do, if I need distracting then we do that. They can't always help me, I don't always feel better right away, but they help me to get through the shitty time until I am okay again. They stop me from slipping too much - missing too many lectures etc. 

So it's not perfect by any means, but a lot has improved and I'm still working on it. Ten months into a properly committed recovery really isn't so far and I am moving in the right direction.

The World Needs More Love Letters

I have just discovered moreloveletters.com, thanks to Arielle Lee Bair. It is such a fantastic idea!

When I was growing up, I remember my mam would write letters to me on important days, like leaving primary school, or just if she had something she wanted to say. She would leave them under my duvet for me to find when I went to bed. They talked about how proud she was of me, how much she loved me. It would always give me such an intense feeling of joy and being loved and belonging. Because nothing pierces your heart quite like the written word does it? Writing captures feelings like nothing else can - and by writing I don't mean 140 character posts of condensed information, but long-winded, descriptive accounts of the soul.

I have always been a lover of the written word; fiction books have given me other worlds to escape into and dream, when things are difficult in my own world...or even when they're not. They have taught me about the workings of the emotional world, given me passion, hope and ambition. Their accounts of fear and hardship and pain have helped me to trust that darkness passes, we can get through it and although we may change, we can become a better person because of those experiences.

To find one of these love letters that someone had written for me, would be the most incredible feeling of love, strength, being a part of something. Therefore, I have decided to start writing them myself. To some people it may seem soppy, cliche, cheap, but to a reader it is simply an extension into the real world of the intensity of emotion we can experience when reading.

For a sufferer of mental illness, it is an acknowledgement that it is normal and okay to feel emotions strongly. In depression, I always felt that my emotions didn't belong in the real world; either when in deep pain or even the intensity joy of finally feeling "okay". They were too much, too intense, "abnormal". People don't talk about them, they are hidden away, even though everyone feels them. People would never have seen me as an emotional person, as I never showed it - the irony is that I am highly emotional, but only my journal is witness! To release feelings into the open is to weaken oneself, according to culture, but in reality I believe that making oneself vulnerable is courage and therefore strength. It is taking back control over them, rather than allowing them to control you.

My point is that I would feel so loved and such a sense of belonging to find one of these letters that it would give me hope. How then, can I not try and give that to someone else? Of course I don't know who will find these letters and I can't know if it helped them or they were indifferent. But the likelihood is, that if I keep on doing them, one will mean something to someone. And that is so fulfilling to think that you can so touch the life of someone you don't know and who doesn't know you.

An old friend

Why is depression so tempting, so compelling when the experience is so horrendous?

I've not been having a great time the past few days. I have been going to bed at 4am, getting up at 2pm, bingeing, watching TV all day and basically acting exactly the way I shouldn't when trying to recover. The only thing I haven't done is cut.

Small achievements I guess.

So I decided that enough was enough and made myself get up this morning. Don't particularly feel better, but at least I've done some revision. Cannot get behind with that and I've just had 3 days off.

Now I have to pick myself up, dust myself off and commit that to the past - a minor setback. Doing those things is not going to make things better only worse. I have to try and ignore the old thoughts that have been building up over the last few weeks. I can't afford to go back there. I'm not sure that I'd survive it again. The last time is still too raw, too recent to cope with it again. So I won't.

I'm getting on with things, but not just hiding them away this time. Talking about the shit that goes round in my head is hard but neccessary. Thank god I have such good friends that will put in the time and listen to it.

Celebrating 2012's Achievements

New Year is full of high expectations and resolutions to 'change'. Maybe that's not what we should be focusing on, because lets be honest, they rarely ever work do they? Instead we just feel miserable for failing and at the same time we have negated the whole previous year by making a resolution at all and implying that whatever we did in 2012 wasn't good enough.

Why do we do this to ourselves? Why not just celebrate what we have achieved?

Personally, I am proud of how far I've come in 2012.
I worked hard and come so far in recovery; from depression, self harm, binge-eating and a suicide attempt.

I don't hate myself anymore, and I do my best to treat myself with the same respect that I would give to anyone else.

Things I am proud of myself for:

Cutting only once in seven months.

Being truly honest with a therapist for the first time.

Doing things that I am scared of.

Talking about how I feel, what I think, not only to my Mental Health Adviser, but also to friends.

Getting through my first year at uni, and working hard in my second year.

Getting a first in my practical report.

Doing the hard thing because it is good for me rather than taking the easy route.

Mental Health Campaigning with my student's union and joining the university's mental health advisory board as a student rep.

Not hiding my illness anymore.

Moving into a house with my friends, making it into home.

Connecting with others who suffer/have suffered, through YouTube and various university outlets (e.g. the society for disability awareness)

Making new friends and keeping in touch and staying close with old friends. Getting closer to some friends and sharing more of myself with them.

Clawing my way back to health and happiness, even when I didn't believe it was there.

Treating my illness seriously and doing everything I can to keep it at bay.

Looking after myself emotionally and physically and keeping my surroundings positive.

Ignoring the lies my illness tells me. Telling myself the truth.

Connecting with others at university through getting involved e.g. through societies.

Getting up in the morning and carrying on with the day, even when I really don't want to.

Appreciating my friends. Appreciating my family.

Acknowledging my pain, but not holding onto it.

Facing things that are hard. Talking about them, which can be even harder.

Letting my feelings out in a healthy way, rather than bottling them up and hurting myself.

Letting the past go.

Having hope for the future.

Fighting.