Thank You

I’d like to take a moment to express some gratitude.  

I owe alot of people an awful lot. Different people have been there for me at different times, in various ways, for different things.  Some would have been there more if I’d have only let them and some may have no idea of quite how much a simple hug, text,  kind word, or just their presence made all the difference in a dark moment. 

It’s hard,  draining and painful to be around someone suffering. When they are hiding it all,  when they reveal snippets and when they compleatly break down and reach crisis. I am so very grateful to each and every person who has supported me over the last 4/5 years.  Wether its been a single brief moment or multiple intense months. 

I’m particularly grateful to those who were there as I began to unravel over the last year and to those who scraped me of the floor and did what they were able to,  when they were able, and when I allowed them to,  in my last 4 months of hell. Thank you to those who shared their own experiences and struggles and made me feel less alone. Thank you to those who are still supporting me right now. 

The list of people I wish to thank is too long to name and some won’t want to be.  So instead I will just say thank you from the bottom of my heart to my family,  my friends,  acquaintances, social media friends, colleagues, health care professionals,  voluntary workers, fellow sufferers and even some complete strangers. I hope you all know who you are. Thank you for collectively saving me.  And the last and hardest one,  the one I also have the most anger towards, thank you to myself for finally accepting the help and starting to believe you deserve it.  

Vulnerability & Strength

***Trigger warnings for self harm***

It’s been 4 weeks since I last punished my own body to release the pain I was in. My last self-harming incident was whilst a patient on a mental health ward. I confessed and handed in my blade a couple of days later. 

“Have you got any more? ” They asked. 

“No” I lied.

Why? Why when I was confessing and handing one in did I lie about the other?  It’s simple really.  Although I was ready to get help and ready to try and stop the daily,  sometimes multiple daily self harm,  I was not ready to give up the security of being able to hurt myself if needed. Crazy hey,  that holding onto it would give me security and make me feel somehow safe and in control.

The most challenging thing about confronting your own mental health is the vulnerability you have to put yourself into.  When you are already feeling incredibly vulnerable it’s almost cruel that increasing that vulnerability may be the only way out. Self harm helped me for a long time.  It was both equally a way to express and get out my emotional pain and a way to deal with the numbing sensation depression can bring.  Sometimes the pain is too awful to acknowledge but numbness is just as devastating. 

A few nights later, following an emotionally fueled exchange,  I went to my room and paced up and down for what felt ages. I could feel the uncomfortableness of my emotions and there was only one way I knew how to deal with them.  I tried to be mindful,  but my mind was racing too fast.  I couldn’t control my breathing and that nasty,  vicious,  hurtful brain of mine was back, 

“You’re evil”

“Everyone hates you”

“You don’t deserve happiness”

“You only deserve punishment”

I went to my purse and dislodged my last blade.  I held it in my hand and continued to pace once more. If all those things are true, then why am I putting myself through this?  Make the choice right now.  End it all or give yourself fully over to recovery. Why did you even walk into that surgery and beg for help?  If you really want to get better why are you holding onto this? 

I left the room and paced the corridors,  before heading to the nurses office. I paced some more and then knocked, 

“I want too so badly.  This is the last one I swear.” I mumbled as I opened my fist.

That wasn’t my last challenging moment whilst admitted.  A week later I was going on leave to see my child receive an award.  Yes I have children.  Yes they mean the world to me.  At the worst moments you feel your very existence is the most damaging thing to them.  That may be wrong but sometimes that evil brain is louder than your sensible one. It was another warm day and I wanted to look nice for her.  I’d had to hand my razor in on arrival and request it when needed.  I hadn’t yet requested it. I knew I was not ready for the temptation. Today however,  I felt good. I wanted to wear a dress but my legs looked like they belonged in a zoo. Back to that nurses station,  

“Can I use my razor please?  I’d like to shave my legs”

“How are you feeling?  Any urges to harm yourself? ”

“No” I replied,  honestly. 

In the shower however it was hard to ignore the pull.  I washed and shaved and then looked at the razor. It was both my enemy and my saviour. I stood, cold,  shaking for so long. Then the tears came.  Real,  wet,  intense,  free-flowing tears. I was feeling.  Feeling so much.  Pain,  shame,  guilt,  self-hate. Then the realisation.  What if they find out? They won’t give me leave.  My daughter had pleaded with me to come. She was so excited.  I continued to stare.

“Get rid” I whispered.  

I repeated it over and over until I found the strength.  I threw it out of the bathroom and hit the panic alarm.  I knew I wasn’t strong enough to resist it twice.  If it was still lying on my bedroom floor when I got out that would have been it. Staff came running in seconds later. 

“I’m OK. I’m not hurt. Just take it. Take it away. Please” I begged.

Naked,  wet, pathetic, pleading. That was me in that moment.  But I wasn’t pathetic.  I was being strong. Showing and facing your weaknesses takes so much more strength than hiding them. 

I never asked to use that razor again.  I havn’t had a bath since I returned home and if I need to shave,  I ask my husband to sit in whilst I shower. I have avoided the shop where I used to purchase blades. Do I feel like a child,  like an invalid – yes! But I am not pathetic. This is me,  accepting help and facing down the negative coping mechanism that has been a part of my life for way too long. Raw,  needy and vulnerable,  but despite all that making me feel useless and weak,  I can now accept that it is infact a strength. It hurts,  my gosh it hurts.  Way more than a cut ever did.  Will I faulter?  Will I fail at times? Maybe.  I’m damn sure though that I’m not giving up fighting it. 

If your struggling.  Ask for help.  Keep asking. Beg if you have too. Make it clear to the many people – even professionals – who think it’s just about stopping the harm.  It’s not.  It’s about finding better ways to deal with the emotion,  the pain,  the numbness.  The cuts, burns,  scratches, whatever it is,  is mainly a problem for those around us, who find it too uncomfortable. Make it clear you need support with what they can’t see. 

Deep Within the Well

I’ve learnt a lot about myself and others during my current crisis with my mental health.

This particular battle began around four years ago. I’m not sure when I began to loose control of the battle because sometimes the chaos sneaks up on you without you realising. What I do know is I got to a place where I had nothing left to give and I had no desire to fight it any more.

Right now I feel like I’m still stuck at the bottom of the well but I’ve picked myself up of the ground of despair and I’m starting to grab at the sides, preparing to start the long climb out. There are moments when I fall back down and question what exactly it is I’m fighting for but those moments are daily occurrences which are shorter lived, rather than my very existence.

It’s hard to recognise how far I have come in those moments. It hurts to look back at things I wrote only a few months ago but I think they are important to acknowledge and accept as they remind me how continuously I was feeling them then, without reprieve, otherwise I would never have risked putting them on paper. The truth is in those moments, I didn’t believe I would be around to regret anyone seeing them. This I wrote on 31st March 2017:

“I can’t see an answer any more. I know it will cause so much pain and that’s the only, and I mean only reason I didn’t do this years ago. But now I’m so so tired and I can’t pretend any longer. This means I haven’t been hiding it from you like I used to and I can’t bear hurting you day in, day out any more. You deserve to find life again. I’ve sucked it out of you for too long. Hate me with everything you have, then move on, grow again, be everything I know you can be that you couldn’t be with me around.”

I’m sharing in the hope that if just one person reading this resonates with this, they can see that the fight is not futile. I certainly believed it was when I wrote the above – I was wrong. I was deep in the dirt and I have a long fight yet, but I’m already not quite where I was then.

Keep going. Not just for those around you, but for YOU!

YOU deserve another chance.