Who’s dream are you chasing?
Mental health can often make you cling to spaces, friends, relationships, jobs; that make you feel comfortable. As I learn more about myself and observe mental health in society, I feel it’s easy to become “stuck” in day to day routines and view such to be a safety net. When I write my blog posts I never really expect everyone to agree with me. So by all means, this may be nonsense for you, and what if it isn’t? What if, you’re working a 5 day week in a job that bores the shit out of you and you want to progress, climb the career ladder, but your anxiety is telling you to ‘sit the fuck down’? What if you’re in a relationship right now that only feeds negative energy and you feel trapped in a cycle of wasted moments and opportunities? We, on the outside looking in, would want to shake you and tell you to quite frankly WAKE UP and say “Your physical health tends to be your priority so why isn’t your mental health?” You simply cannot fuel a car without the actual existence of fuel. You cannot practice wellbeing without actually BEING PRESENT and feeling well. I know personally of the daily ‘I wish I’, ‘should I?’ and ‘could I?’. The wish to try a new gym, to wear something I usually wouldn’t, to change my routine, to throw myself into a new social situation. Except these wishes often do not amount to anything. I sit there, in thought, cooking up some anxiety and decide that today is simply not the day for change. You’ll notice that you often tell yourself to be ‘grateful’ to have the job, friendship, relationship that you have, considering you’re “mentally unwell and all that”. That this IS THE ACHIEVEMENT. This is the best it will get for you. You can’t achieve more incase the stress makes you unwell again. It’s just not true. I would like to educate you on how this is another example of mental health and it’s control over our lives and feelings of purpose. Overcoming mental health is about challenging fears, uncomfortable situations that eventually become comfy, and being able to stand up and say “I deserve more”. No one is there to fight for your dream; it’s all you. Mental health will tell you the dream is not yours to have - but that’s the illness right there. Don’t lose hope.
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Today I’m choosing ME.
Today I’m going to celebrate ME. I love ME 🤛 I am proud of the woman I am becoming because more often than not I spend time reflecting on my journey to this present day. Again, things in my life are changing but this time it’s out of choice. Sometimes we have to make decisions that are so bloody difficult to make. To reject the feeling of needing to please those around you; the fear of failure. It’s my body and soul that is my reason for existence - not countless faces I’m surrounded by on a daily. So yes, time for change! How the F* did I keep going this year? Where did the bravery and strength come from? I think about all of the challenges and clinical input that got me here. There were highs and unexplainable lows which have all lead me to who I am on this rather ordinary Thursday the 28th of February 2019. And with that, I stop and think; is this a ‘state of calm’ or rather a new version of myself? Or is this just a period of stability that will always crop up from time to time during the recurring cycle. I guess it’s impossible to know if we ever really recover and/or move on..Can we truly be “undiagnosed” and if so, what does that actually mean? What does it mean clinically and most importantly, what does it mean to you and I? Does it even F*ng matter if you have a diagnosis? I think not As I have said before, I often struggle with the concept of ‘recovery’ and being told that things are well and I am high functioning. In the back of my mind I’m acutely aware that things could easily change at any given moment. I’m hopeful, and I believe that there is a time where your brain functioning has mastered the art of being mentally well. But there will always be the risk of relapse. The same risk as someone experiencing mental health for the first time. I’ve gone from getting engaged this time last year (I’ll probably blog about that at a later date) to taking a leap of faith and putting myself first. It’s unsettling and new. The future’s unpredictable & it’s okay to say NO. It’s okay to change your mind. It’s always okay to listen to your feelings. I will probably always consider myself to be ‘managing’ my mental health. I’m not undiagnosed or a completely new person. It’s quite unsettling to feel so “normal” (whatever that is) when you know and have felt the opposite so very deeply..I will always be this weird little mix up that makes ME. But I embrace it. I embrace the day. Everyday brings something new. Mental health is important and it matters; mental health is a part of me and I matter. No apologies. Repost, Feb 2016This is my second post for Depression Army; and I would like to thank all the readers for their overwhelming response to my introductory post. Not only was it a huge personal achievement to write and publish such an honest piece; but the support has made it even more beneficial. God bless you all.
"Life: knocks you down repeatedly; but can also save you, greatly. That's a vital lesson I've learnt this year." Six months ago, I would have never thought that I could be where I am right now. I've straightened my hair, whacked on some lippy, taken a risk with some brand new ankle boots—that I cannot walk in—and some sparkly top. My God, I look girly again. I'm wondering what drink to order, where to sit, and most importantly, if I will know anyone. Right this second, I am about to walk into a huge restaurant full of professionals; to share curry and conversation about social work. I can feel my knees trembling and my mind working overtime to convince me that “YES, I am going to fall flat on my face any second!” I'm queuing to greet the host whilst vigorously checking my purse over and over again. If I can control the environment, I will fit in. Well, that's what I tell myself. Six months ago, I stopped going out as much as I used to. I stopped dressing up. I hated everything about myself. I thought I actually started to hate myself. I could see why others would hate me, too. It finally made sense as to why I felt so alone. Of course, this was all in my mind. Life had knocked me down. Stomped on me. Roughed me up around the edges. Pulled at my seams. I tried to cope but in actual fact it wasn't that I didn't know how to get "back up on my feet"; rather I physically couldn't. When the lights went out, nights scared me. Feelings scared me. Until life forced me to LIVE, to find my purpose. I was on my own. Hurt. Isolated. Alone. I know now that I had a strong bracelet of people around me. Gold. Pure gold hearts. But at the time I couldn't reach into that reality. It was too rich. So, as the saying goes, I was forced to glue myself back together. I realized that no one else was going to do it for me. I was forced to "carry on". My job was important. I had to keep going. So, I finally heard a voice inside of me asking for help. I think it’s the best thing that I could have done for myself. I saved myself. I spoke out loud everything that was in my head. I started my blog. I started therapies. Just as I felt like the darkness was going to eat me up, I ate my toast and drank my tea. My job, my responsibilities, were important to me. That was my purpose—if only for now. Other people needed me when I didn't want myself. That was my strength. After wiping away tears and leaving my pajamas behind, I put on lipstick and faced another day. I spoke to my colleagues. I spoke to my friends. I spoke to my dad. And I felt alive. I finally felt alive. So what was I going to do to prove I was alive? I knew my strength lied within my professional duty so that's where I started. I signed into the guest list for a Social Care curry evening. And that's where I am right now. I'm sat with six people I have never met before. I've decided to stick to water so I don't have to double check my purse, walk to the bar (looking like Bambi in these heels) and simply because water is the best when you feel like you can't breathe. I decide to ask people where they work and focus on talking about similar interests so that I don't have to talk so much about myself. I carefully plate up my food from the selection in front of me, ignoring the visions of me with curry down my shirt and/or throwing up on the man beside me. Then, almost out of nowhere, a past tutor hugs me. I feel safe. Welcomed. Part of the room. In touch with reality. The other side of the glass. Anxiety all gone. I realised that no matter what is going on inside your head: good, bad, ugly, reality is still yours. That moment was mine—all be it, shared, but my memory to keep nonetheless. I realised that there was life around me and pouring out of me. Even if it didn't feel like it. So on my way home I told myself “S, you are going to do this more often. You have proven you can do it. Now you have no excuses.” Since then, I've made great steps to organise social activities; clear out my wardrobe and start fresh, become closer to 'S' who seems so far away. Okay, so I may not have made huge steps or huge changes, more like baby steps in reality, but a world away from the past. That's what I truly feel in my heart. I'm proud of myself. I can say that now and not feel guilty, foolish, ashamed, or like I'm attention-seeking. Let me tell you that it's okay to say we are proud of ourselves for making steps. It's okay to take one step and then three huge steps back. A step is a step. For each step we take, we know we are alive. And if we are alive, then we are on our way to our future. My future. Your future Repost, 22, DEC 2015I'm sure most of you will agree that when it comes to having a mental illness, we are essentially living our lives as two split people rather than a whole:
S: the social worker; the girlfriend; the daughter; a carer. I’m recognized for the role I play and the people that I support. I work full time, I am in a long-term relationship, I am living with my parents, and I am a carer for my aunt, grandparents and mother. I refer to my anxious personality as S2. It's important to recognise that on my bad days, S2 has organised a shift swap with S without giving me any warning. You just have to accept that today you don’t feel great and try and manage as best you can. I am still getting to know S2 and everything that makes S2 struggle. I know this will take a while. S2 often likes to spend time in bed, curled up, drinking tea and cuddling cats. Whereas, S gets up every morning to practice as a social worker. S appears 'normal' and S2 just appears 'lazy'. My family would consider me to be S and S2 a stranger. They don’t see the whole me. They feel that the stranger in me is created by the antidepressant drugs I am taking. A stranger that is not in line with the upbringing and future they crafted for me. My family considers that I choose to be a stranger; when that is further from the truth. I am not a stranger. I am just sometimes quite simply S2 and not S. My partner would consider me to be S. He sees me as a whole person; the person I want to be. He is the light at the end of the tunnel that should be given to everyone in society. He may not always understand S2, but he sure as hell is there to support both of me. And yes, on paper, society does view me a stranger and to be someone with a lot of NEEDS and NO personality or characteristics. The media would probably have a 'day out' framing me as an incapable social worker; despite the fact that I am heavily supported and appear to be progressing in my role. But if people met me, out in the community, as S, they would probably question what the hell health professionals are on about. That I am perfectly normal. Whatever that is... Can you relate? Prior to significant life events and my eventual diagnosis, I had a large group of friends at school. I was a networker, confident in myself; a very girly girl. I suffered a death by suicide, many instances of bullying, took on a caring role and was exposed to changing family dynamics. It wasn't until December last year that I was diagnosed with depression and generalised anxiety disorder. I spent a lot of time on my own and now my biggest fear is ending up alone. Inside, I still believe that I am the Samantha from before, but that I am currently looking through a pane of glass and unable to reach those elements of myself that seem so jumbled up. That doesn't mean they are gone for good or that I want to change and move on. I just cannot physically activate that side of my personality at this time. That's the illness. "I AM A PERSON, WITH MY OWN STRUGGLES; WITH GOALS, AMBITIONS AND WISHES." I know that most of the time I don't really understand myself and how irrational fear has the potential to take over each hour and day of my life. To me, each encounter with anxiety disorder feels very much real. But I know that I shouldn't accept people viewing my illness as a 'mask' of my identity and as if anxiety is all that I am. I am a person, with my own struggles; with goals, ambitions and wishes; S. In the future, I could gain a new next door neighbour (let's just call him Pete for now). Pete could be physically disabled and has been for much of his life. Pete may go to the pub on a weekly basis and hold down a part time job. Pete may have lots and lots of friends. We would understand Pete as a person behind his diagnosis. But would Pete understand me? Or would he, like so many in society, wonder what I have to complain about? Would he argue that my illness is a choice? That thought scares me. That's why I have always avoided talking about it. That's why I have taken almost ten years to engage with services and want support. That's why I have only just felt comfortable talking to my partner about it and trying to explain without thinking 'oh he just won't get it'. That's why I decided to disclose to my family a few months back. I cannot possibly practice as a social worker if I am ashamed of my illness; one that I support people with almost every week. I guess deep down I have just felt that society has always thrown a blanket over people and ignored the fact that your struggles can be as painful and as debilitating as any other serious medical condition. I felt left behind and lost within the system. Going to work is the only part of my daily routine that stops me from analysing myself, hating myself, doubting myself, and getting caught up in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Don't get me wrong, each day is a complete and utter challenge. Each day is as exhausting as the next. But, I get there--in my own unique way. I'm not afraid anymore. 2015 seems to be the year so far that people are talking about mental health. Sure, it's not enough but it is a start. I am proud of S. S does not want to get out of bed in the mornings but she still gets to work. S who can go to work with a real fire and passion inside them. S is more than just S2, and is a person with a future despite her illness. I'm going to continue to blog for Depression Army and explore the person behind the diagnosis. I'll share with you some of my most personal occasions where mental health has affected but not won. We'll talk dates, interviews, fitness classes, counseling, cuddling cats; you name it. No matter how illness interplays with our lives we are still valuable human beings with goals like any other. They may be little goals, like getting up in the morning. But for all of us, that is an achievement as big as any other. |
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January 2019
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