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.