Repost, 22, AUG 2016For those of you whom have not read my previous blog entries before, I’m S.
S at work/in public and S2 when my thoughts are captivated by depression. Sitting here right now, I’m unsure what exactly motivated me to start writing posts about my mental health but if anything it was to have someone to talk to. And, it’s helped. So thank you to everyone who has read them so far. It is my ambition to become an Approved Mental Health Practitioner. I cannot advocate for people if I find myself oppressed and hidden in society. So here I am, speaking out, breaking my own stigma. Hopefully encouraging you to break yours too? So, since we are being honest right now - I have to be frank - I've been mulling over for some time as to what to focus on writing about in my third blog entry. I have very high standards for myself, and so was a little stuck on what to explore in my writing. With some guidance from my loyal Twitter followers, I've decided to review both my progress through this maze of uncertainty and the navigators I've cherished along the way. When I think back to last Christmas, my life in general was a little unsettled but not enough to rock the boat. My birthday was amazing. I was exploring Paris with my best friend, the person I loved more than anything in the world. The underlying thoughts of harming myself, ending my life, and not being able to cope began to surface again long after these wonderful adventures. I remember waking up one morning and I felt quicksand between my toes. Boiling hot sand, but the blood in my veins freezing cold. I didn't know what was wrong with me, but I knew this time it was potentially my worst encounter so far. It was the most “real” panic attack I had ever encountered and I felt so powerful I could die. The feeling of being paralyzed, sinking, and feeling heavier and heavier was at the point where my body disengaged and my everyday functioning became non- existent. "I REMEMBER WAKING UP ONE MORNING AND I FELT QUICKSAND BETWEEN MY TOES. BOILING HOT SAND, BUT THE BLOOD IN MY VEINS FREEZING COLD. I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT WAS WRONG WITH ME, BUT I KNEW THIS TIME IT WAS POTENTIALLY MY WORST ENCOUNTER SO FAR." Imuddled on. Things muddled on. Everything was muddled. And I do think it's fair to say that the relationship between myself and my significant other suffered initially. I had no diagnosis and no professionals around me to guide me through this maze I found myself in. So how could I possibly explain myself to my other half if I couldn't make sense of it all myself? I can vividly remember feeling anxious about the most ridiculous things. Wearing myself out over the most ridiculous things. Feeling like a ticking time bomb and trying to estimate if he, my significant other, would be gone before or after my brain imploded. I was full of fear and I was full of hate. I hated feeling so trapped in my mind, but I was scared of the detrimental effects this would have on HIM. I would obsess over things, clean like I was being paid in diamonds;, I was restless and I was miserable. I began to speak about things, slowly and surely, when I realized that I was projecting my misery onto him. He appeared to feel disheartened, and I didn't want things to escalate, because I loved him. "REACHING OUT TO HIM PROBABLY SAVED MY LIFE. AS THE QUICKSAND STARTED TO DROWN ME - I HAD TO OFFLOAD IN AN ATTEMPT TO SURVIVE. AND, LUCKILY FOR ME, IT WORKED." My approach was gentle. I didn't want any alarm bells to ring. I wanted him to help me understand myself and not forget the S he fell for. Reaching out to him probably saved my life. As the quicksand started to drown me - I had to offload in an attempt to survive. And, luckily for me it worked. I can't lie to you and say things will always be rosy; they won't. Your partner may not have encountered mental health in the past and he/she will therefore may be, quite simply, completely and utterly clueless about how the little things can trigger your spiral at a million miles per second. He took time to fully understand what I need and that was not in vain. I will admit that I push people away and I fear/obsess over being ‘left’. A crazy cat lady on her own in a shed in the middle of a field. That's what I picture every time I panic, anyway. My first blog post for Depression Army was the turning point in our relationship. I'm really not just saying that either. When it was published I copied and pasted the link onto Twitter. I was crapping my pants about who and how people would respond. I waited. Deep breathing and pacing up down - up down. *ping* *ping ping* *phone got a little bit excited* People liked my blog post. People empathized and related to my blog post. Was this really happening? Well I had to be sure, didn't I? I copied and pasted the link and sent it to HIM. I asked HIM to read it. I felt slightly relieved that I didn't have to try and keep up the act of the person I once was (when we met). I wanted him to know me - all of me. To be honest - as soon as it sent I thought - ‘oh, f’ck. What have I done?’ BUT, he gave me a miracle. He said he was proud of me. PROUD. Since then, I haven't looked back. When I learn new stuff at counselling, I’ll share what I have learned. I want to teach him as much as I teach myself. This is so he can handle me. And in turn, I can try my hardest to control any relapse. With this achievement, I soon learnt that in order to stay afloat and maintain what is important to me, I needed to talk. Going into work has always felt like I had a bumble bee inside my ribs getting angrier and angrier. Puncturing every organ and ounce of flesh, muscle, and nerve. Scared to make mistakes and scared that they would sack me for my illness and label me ‘incapable’. Again, my first blog post and sharing it on my Twitter opened up doors for me. I was going through a really bad time. I had called in sick for a few days because my mind and body were not talking. So, from my bed I sent my boss an email - brief and to the point. Requesting one hour a week to attend clinical counselling for my depression. Please note the ‘my’; I have accepted ownership of my illness so that I can learn how to live with it and stop it from ruling my life. Bombshell officially dropped. Again, I thought, holy sh*t. You're going to lose your job. But her response was amazing. I guess what I'm trying to tell you all is that we are all human. My relationship and job are what keep me alive. Living. Hopeful. And I know that the only way to maintain these elements is through self-care. "I GUESS WHAT I'M TRYING TO TELL YOU ALL IS THAT WE ARE ALL HUMAN. MY RELATIONSHIP AND JOB ARE WHAT KEEP ME ALIVE. LIVING. HOPEFUL. AND I KNOW THAT THE ONLY WAY TO MAINTAIN THESE ELEMENTS IS THROUGH SELF-CARE."So, if I can offer you one bit of teeny tiny advice. It would be TALK to your partner. Because if they don't say they are proud and don't try to understand - you need to raise your standards. If they are arseholes about it then are they really going to aid your recovery? We are all love-able - with demons and all. Be open with your boss - so that you can take time out without it affecting your performance. You'll feel less pressure to wear that mask to work each day. Trust me. It's okay to still feel crap each day, or to not know what you enjoy or want to aim for. There's no incorrect way to have depression, have anxiety attacks, have suicidal thoughts. These things just are and will never discriminate against you or I. But having the resources and support network around you is what matters. Self-care isn't just putting the kettle on, having a bath, or stuffing your face with doughnuts (no? Just me?). It's about reaching out and making yourself heard. Reclaim the power over your mind and over this illness. The less afraid you are of it - the less afraid others will be. A little like Pandora’s box…..
0 Comments
REPOST 22, OCT 2016 YouChoice: a boundary that can often be blurred by our state of mind. Or so the definition that I give says. When anxiety takes over, we lose the ability to make informed choices. As I sit here typing this now, I'm spending time with the most amazing human being I have ever met. I feel love in my heart. But there are flashbacks in my brain which are making me tired. My previous partner, the one who I thought understood me and could help me, took my freedom of choice away from me at the time when I was most vulnerable. He made my illness worse.
Anxiety manifests itself in a way that forms a cage around every aspect of our lives. It prevents us from living and feeling every single aspect of a moment, second, or day. Some people are blessed with the strength to overcome battles. Others- you, me- are not so lucky. I wanted to explore something very personal in this post. Something that I have only just started talking about. Mental health and love, as we know it. As I knew it. A lot of you will see that my previous blog posts were written about my support network. I explored happiness and how love can be our strength. Now is the moment where I take off my mask (with bravery) and tell you that it was all a facade: love that I thought was strength and a support network was unhealthy. It was easier to believe something was real and magical than realize that I was heading on a downward spiral. Love doesn't make you suicidal. I know that now. For four years, I was dependent on someone else to relieve my anxiety and bring me happiness. This person knew every trigger and every aspect of my life. I loved them because my brain told me that I did. It became a self-fulfilling prophecy to try and please. To earn respect. To earn love of some form. That is the time in which I lost my freedom of choice. I confided in him about my health conditions and the trigger points. He said he would help me. Instead he ignored the warning lights and used my compliance to his advantage. What I couldn't see was that I was so eager to please and be loved that he would say ‘jump’ and I would say ‘how high’. I felt like he was the only one who would have me and even he wouldn't stay forever. Every anxiety I had manifested in my soul had begun to create an illusion that was so believable I couldn't walk away. Self-destruction took over, and I prayed that I would receive affection that night. The only way I could prove my worth was through sex. He told me that not fulfilling his desires for him meant that I didn't truly love him. He threatened to walk away. In a clear state of mind I would have punched him. But I wasn't seeing things clearly: I had to make him stay and prove my worth. The toxic cycle began. Sex with him. He had sex with whoever he wanted. He talked me into having sex with whoever he wanted me to be with. He would emotionally punish me afterwards. Telling me I had been selfish and that I owed him. When I thought I was pleasing him - I wasn't. So I began to blame myself for everything. I remember taking him to Amsterdam for his birthday, all expenses paid for; and visiting the red light district. He told me if we didn’t return that evening so he could visit one of the ladies:- then what was ‘the point’ in coming on this trip. He was a pig. But I felt that love had no boundaries. I didn’t want to fail. I began to learn that the voice in my head had begun to speak his words. My anxiety had a face. His face. Approachable and friendly on the onset; but something dark hidden behind those eyes. What I didn't realize is that the reason my recovery had come to a halt was because of him. He didn't want me to recover. I remember the times he had walked away, worked his way back, called me fat, said he preferred the appearance of my best friend, told me I needed to go the gym, said I couldn't dance, said I was boring, said I was selfish and even said I was EMBARRASSING him every time we were in public. I cut myself off from the world. He became my safety net. This voice in my head was not my mental health trying to break me, but another human being. I was in constant fear - I couldn't function. I remember the time I couldn't get myself out of bed for a week, so I took sick leave. I feel like a failure for doing that. I know now that it was important to take time out for myself and to allow myself to ‘feel’. I had begun to cut myself off from my emotions as a way of protecting myself. I realized that I had to grieve in order to grow stronger. Grieve I did. I mentally and physically drained myself. I let the black hole of depression swallow me up. I had faith that it would pass; and if it didn't then I would ask for help. Something inside of me was burning and gave me strength to let these feelings pass. I felt at peace. I realized that for as long as I feel I'm suffering - I still grow. For the days where I feel like I won't make it until lunchtime - I still grow. No matter how hard things are I am still evolving. Recovery isn't matter of a fact. It's a journey. It's a journey to get to know the person lost and ‘found’ again. Sure I had been knocked down during the relationship and my depression was again triggered by my experiences. But I had been knocked down before, and as I already knew, only I could rebuild myself as I had before. Brick by brick. My choice. Today, I am learning about myself. My favorite food, color, music, and holiday. The most irrelevant little choices that make up my soul. Sure, my anxiety is still a bitch, and I face her every single day. But I am learning to separate my thoughts. I'm learning that I have freedom of choice. We all have a choice each day about whether or not we continue our battle towards wellness or put it off for a rainy day. In the same respect, we also need to recognize that choices we make on our 'down' days can often be the wrong ones. Clarity comes when we accept that it's okay to make a mistake. Clarity comes when we own our mistakes. I want to tell you that even though when you feel weak and helpless; you are your own savior. Never forget that. You may think that someone can aid your recovery, but actually, no one else can. It's all you. Whilst support networks are necessary they cannot facilitate recovery. This will be your own success story. Love yourself, warts and all; don't let the illness manifest into something bigger. Don't let someone feed your anxieties further. Make that choice. No matter where you are now - you're still growing. Give yourself grace; choose to. Do you ever feel as if you need someone to come over and make you a brew and simply say ‘you’re doing great’? Except for the fact that you don’t actually want to tell someone how you are feeling. Well, you have to be there for yourself. Regardless.
Pledge for 2019 that you’ll ensure you give yourself daily reassurance that you are ‘doing ok’ I’m not entirely sure how my current feelings of depression have surfaced. It’s supposed to be a new year and all that bollocks. I don’t mean to dwell on the last year. I always end up dwelling about how I’ve been through a lot of change recently. I guess I need to take ownership of these thoughts and feelings. Of course, I also know that I am creating change myself. I finally plucked up the courage to apply for a job that I really want. I’m hopeful. I know that if I am successful there will be huge changes ahead. But I’m also my own worst enemy and scared of failure. Either way, change is an inevitable outcome. Second guessing yourself is something that no matter how hard we try to fight; we always end up surrendering to. Anxiety is something that makes this even more apparent in day to day life; something I learnt to control. Except it’s now 2019, and I am still experiencing thoughts and self doubt on what I observe to be a subconscious level. I feel as if it is my mind trying to tell me to ‘take a break’ from recovery and ‘just feel a little more’. Almost like the devil tempting Adam to grab that apple from the forbidden tree. It is quite possible to be terrified of being free. Free of mental illness and distress. But how can we imagine being free when we have left behind the person we once were? So I guess it’s also quite possible that as human beings we will undoubtably stick to what we know, the ‘comfort’ or safety blanket, even at the expense of a greater future to come. It’s totally confusing to me as to how I can continue to feel so calm, collected and relaxed; when my stomach is in knots and it’s difficult to eat. I feel that emotionally, I should be a complete utter mess and instead I feel numb and fatigued. It makes me think about how powerful the medication must be to now be working affectively in my system. It also makes me more intune with my need to be less reliant on these. I think back to times where I felt absolute chaos in my mind (almost mirroring reality) and whereby nothing, and no one could help. Now look at the change in me. Is it my accomplishment or rather medication? Is it possible that those who have ‘recovered’ can still relapse on a regular basis? I’ve noticed that I now tend to experience an influx of energy, like no other, and then crash spontaneously; requiring so much sleep. I could sleep for days. And I mean days. And with this recurrent change, it’s difficult to know who you are. To separate fact from imagination. To know who I will be when the medication stops. My thoughts today, and reason for writing this was to encourage the following mantra: 1. There was a person before my mental health. 2. There is a different person after my mental health. 3. The person in the future will no doubt be a reformed version of the person I once was. Its not a bad thing. It just takes a little bit of time to see that. And I am doing great.. even if I do not feel that way. Now put the kettle on and make yourself a brew. I think I recall that my faith was first tested at the age of fourteen. It was a familiar story of experiencing loss and dealing with the onset of my mental health problems. I was very angry with the world and had a tendency to suppress this down. My world and my mind caged me, trapped me; and it was impossible to know my truth vs reality. I prayed - my goodness I prayed. I felt unheard. I felt inferior and almost as if He did not care for me. This only exacerbated my ill health. Fed on my insecurities. And I parted from God.
Its taken a significant amount of growth and understanding of my conditions to enable me to forgive myself and thank Him for being able to help me through one of the most challenging times in my life. I began to rid the expectations I once had and instead was content on the comfort God gave me by being in my life. For giving me life. I think back to all the times where I could have taken things to far:- be in a completely different world today, or not here at all. In all those dark moments where I felt alone and broken, something inside me gave me the strength to fight on and the curiosity for the light and the greener grass. That can only be God. I realise that now. I didn’t ask Him to be there. At that time I didn’t want Him to be there. But I am where I am today because of the comfort He gave me. This year has been another challenging milestone in my life. I’ve dealt with the incredible highs and the ridiculous lows. I’ve realised that I’m strong no matter what. The days I want to end everything - God will still bring me the sunrise in the morning. I’ve prayed and I feel that He has heard me. I do not know how I would be still standing, eating, working, smiling; without His grace. There is no other explanation as to how I came to be here, now. How I have the strength to pull through? It’s all God. It’s a miracle in my eyes that I can finally see the strength in myself and adapt to each situation. He’s taught me how to accept the person I am - no apologies required. I deal with things differently. I feel things differently. He taught me how to stop worrying about the simple things in life and to trust God. To focus on family. Loving myself and loving others. He taught me to open my heart and fall in love. He taught my fiancé how to empower me through His teachings. God has received all the Glory for my entry into marriage. For allowing me to let someone fall in love with the naked me, true me, imperfect me. People will say that if you do not go to church then you are not ‘practicing’ your Christianity. I don’t praise God to fit in with a crowd of people. I don’t fit into a crowd of people so to praise God. Its always your choice how you communicate with your God. Anxiety can make congregations be a very uncomfortable situation. Gods timing will let me know when i’ve found a community that I can trust. I have regained my personal relationship with God. This post is to praise him for rejoicing and rewarding my strength this year. |
CategoriesArchives
January 2019
|