Mental Health, Mental Wealth

Hey. you.

I feel it's important to issue a trigger warning here. We're about to get pretty down 'n dirty about the journey I've had with my mental health and I'll be honest, it's not always been pretty. In all seriousness though, if, you feel that reading about the negative impacts of Mental Health struggles could bring you distress, maybe sit this one out. It's real and it's raw, but absolutely not intended to cause upset to my readers. With that said, lets get to it - shall we? You ever felt the weight of the world on your shoulders, but numb at the same time? Felt as though you weren't ever quite able to draw a full breath of air when you needed to and that life was constantly out of reach? Well, I have. I could write forever about every single time my mind has picked a fight but there's a particular period of my life that I think I'll focus on for the duration of this blog. Fasten your belts - we're about to journey back. If we start at March last year, I had absolutely no idea how much I was going to change over the upcoming 6 months. Like, drastic. In April time, I had gone through a bit of a rough ride with someone very close to me and it absolutely knocked me for six. I tried really hard to move on from it but I found this a nearly impossible task. Such ride - in that very moment, left me feeling somewhat worthless. Jesus wept though, I had absolutely no idea how much these feelings had planned to stick around, intensify and COMPLETELY outstay their welcome - you know? I'd say that in April I started slipping and by June I'd completely fallen off the wagon of well mental health and well being. Everything, and I mean everything, was becoming such a hard task. I was aware that my mental state was deteriorating but it took all of my strength to try my hardest to mask it, as opposed to facing my fears and dealing with them head on. (I can acknowledge this now, but in the moment I was entirely blind sighted by the bastards that are Anxiety and Depression). At its worst, I was experiencing mental, emotional and physical effects of the mental war I was having, except I too was the enemy. The chronic exhaustion, dizzy spells, fainting and development of an anxious stutter became what gave the game away to those around me. I didn't want anyone to know at first. It was me, I was the protector. I was the guider. I was the source of advice and it was always my job to make it better for others. I needed to be 'strong'. (Honestly in hindsight I get so angry at myself for thinking this way)

One of the strangest things I found, while I was suffering, I was at times detached from myself. It's as though I was able to see everything I was going through but from behind the glass. I couldn't stop it, I couldn't change it, and I certainly couldn't get back inside my own mind to bring myself back around. I was so aware I was falling and yet somehow the ground never seemed to get any closer. I would constantly wish for some sort of end to the 25 hour / 8 days a week mental torment about how I was absolutely the worst person in the world.

That was probably the worst part. My mind made me feel as though I was so unworthy of even being in the same room as the people I loved and cared for, I was totally convinced I didn't deserve the time of day from anyone important to me and the term burden soon became an understatement. I couldn't understand why I would be wanted in any kind of situation and honestly felt as though an environment was undoubtedly better without me in it. I remember meeting a friend for coffee at Costa. This particular friend is one of the very few people in my life who I'm convinced know me better than I know myself. To be frank - I was a hot mess. I couldn't string a sentence together without stuttering, apologising for the stuttering, the stuttering worsening because I was very aware and then giving up on what I was trying to say. I remember the way I felt that day. I felt a longing to have my pain taken away but I too felt a burning desire to remove myself from the situation whereby I was to become exposed for being vulnerable. It was as if I wanted to be seen but I also wanted to hide. I wanted to be heard but I didn't have the words to speak. - How was this possible? I had/have some incredible people in my life. I didn't need the worst 6 months of my life to learn who was good for me, but I definitely learnt who was not. During this period, I had people who gave everything to being my pillars of strength and no blog, no letter, no speech - nothing will ever have the words for me to thank those people for enabling me to be where I am today. I also had people in my life, who, contributed to every ounce of sadness, darkness and worthlessness I felt. Admittedly, I overthink situations. I do. However, I'm also VERY good at reading a room and I will always know when someone's tone has changed and when an environment has altered. Someone's energy speaks before their words, remember that.

Sadly, I do believe that some people in my life took advantage of the fact I was an over-thinker and used this as a mechanism to mask nasty behaviour. So imagine where I was now - I'm already feeling like a worthless piece of shite ('scuse the French, but if you've been here before you'll know my blogs) and now I've got people telling me I'm an over thinker and I need to stop worrying. Who invited Dr Phil to the party with sound advice like that eh?? Can you believe I'd by this time spent 3 months trying to convince myself every single day that I deserved a spot on this earth as much as the next person when ALL it would've taken was for me to 'just stop worrying' - Come on Dem mate? Honestly, give me a fucking break.

Days, weeks, months went by. My friends began very sternly suggesting that I took a visit to the Doctors. As you can imagine I was reluctant to do this at first because in my eyes, the longer I can hold myself up - the better it will be. I needed, in my mind, to save the Dr's as a last resort for support, for when I couldn't do it on my own, little did I know that that's exactly where I was at. I couldn't cope on my own. A visit to the Dr saw a diagnosis of Chronic Anxiety and Depression. Depression. What? Anxiety I wasn't shocked by because I'd experienced anxiety for some time before this. But, depression? I honestly felt as though Dr Ward had donkey kicked me in the stomach and proceeded to twist her kitten heel in as she made a very slow attempt to remove said heel. Cheers hun, love ya. But seriously - depression? How? How had I allowed myself to become depressed? I thought. I'm not a depressive person - this isn't my nature. That label fucked with me for a bit, I won't lie. I didn't find any sense of reassurance or clarity from the Dr telling me this and in actual fact I felt some shame. (Again, mortified at my own thought process but equally, your girl wasn't mentally peak at this point so some slack please) There were people in my life I was terrified to share this with because I felt as though they wouldn't understand. And I was correct. Equally, some people in my life were absolutely amazing at trying to support me to see how this could be the start of my drive down the road of recovery and promised to always ride shotgun with me.

But, nothing was working (so I thought). For some reason this darkness that lingered over me from the minute I woke up in the morning was seemingly here to stay, and the more it outstayed it's welcome, the more I struggled to carry it. Eventually, I completely lost myself. I honestly spent every single second of everyday just trying to let the next hour, afternoon, the next day, roll by in the hope that tomorrow would be a better one. I used to sleep a lot. Sleep was my escape - sleep was the ONLY time ever that I didn't feel as though I was suffering.

I needed reassurance. I craved some form of reassurance and closure that actually, I was enough. This turmoil would soon end and I could go back to laughing again. Do you know, at one point I actually forgot what a belly laugh felt like? So much so, 6 months later when I began to get better, I sent my Mum a text saying "Mum! Mum!!! I've just felt happiness in my stomach - it went again as quickly as it came but I felt it!" - sorry, what? I hit my lowest point when I began allowing incredibly intrusive thoughts to enter my brain and probably stick around for way longer than they should. I was allowing them to niggle away at the microscopic strands of sensible and rational thinking I had left before it was too late. I'll be honest, this terrified me. I shared my thoughts with MINIMAL people in a cry for help - I'm so thankful though that I can sit here, writing this blog and say that on reflection: I never wanted to end my life, I wanted to end that period of my life and didn't know how I could. BUT. And this is a very big but, despite every single metaphorical drop of rain, despite every single breath that I couldn't properly take, despite every single morning of darkness that allowed me to feel as though I'd never escape, after 6 months of hell, a glimmer of light surfaced. Honestly, I took that glimmer and held onto it with a white knuckles like you wouldn't believe. For a more humorous reference - imagine Mechanical Bull and dear life - you've got me. Ha! My situation changed so much over those 6 months. In fact my life completely changed. I lost so much of my heart last year but I regained so much of my SELF. I went from thinking my life was over to having an hour of everyday where actually I felt like maybe, just maybe - I could feel okay. Again, a couple months went by and I had by this point found the strength to change certain areas of toxicity in my life. The difference this made to my whole well-being was honestly phenomenal. I'm not the toughest of the ol cookies, in fact I'm normally the one eating them (LOL) but I'd never understood how others were so fast to rid what they considered toxic from their life, but it's honestly one of the greatest lessons I ever learnt. I took my last Anti-Depressant in September. I felt that it was no longer the anti-depressants that were reducing the way I felt and more about me ensuring I was always in the right, and healthy environments and situations. So, 15 months later. Here I am. Firstly, I'm here - and that in itself for me is a huge achievement. Secondly, I'm close to being the best version of myself that I have been for as long as I can remember. I am stronger in my mind and the clarity I have on situations that were once hazy is indescribable. Thirdly, I'm chunkier. Disclaimer - this girl is a comfort eater. But would I rather a coupla extra inches round the ol' hips over feeling depressed? You BETCHA! (Ps - I'm really not justifying a bad diet as a way to control your mental health by the way, what I'm saying is I'm not punishing myself for a couple of extra pounds when I found comfort in an extra bag of crisps, you know what I mean) (P.p.s - I will work on it - Monday soon isn't it?) You know what I've learnt though? Healing is messy. It's a beautifully messed up concoction of emotions that sometimes I didn't even know I had. Some days, or weeks, I'll feel on top of the world. Some days, I'll feel half way up the mountain. For a long time, I began treating being half-way up the mountain in the same way I treated myself for being kicked to the floor, I considered it a bit of a failure, but I was SO wrong. I was guilty of scrutinising my own progress because at times it didn't feel quick enough, it didn't feel I was having enough impact for me to believe I was making a change. WRONG. I read this quote which said: 'You would not plant a seed, just to dig it up everyday in order to check the growth. So why do we question ourselves?'

I'm still learning to be patient with myself. I'm still learning to give myself the benefit of the doubt, but instead of standing outside the car refusing to get in, I'm now a thousand miles further down that road of recovery and honestly, there's so much sunshine. Here's to trusting our own process.

Celebrate your successes, boo - I bet there's plenty of them. If you take anything from reading this blog today I sincerely hope that it's a glimmer of hope, a sprinkle of reassurance and confidence that if you are struggling right now, your sunshine will come. If you're currently on your road of recovery, that you keep that petrol tank topped up and allow yourself no reason to stop, and if you know someone who is suffering in a similar way, that maybe you'll now be able to relate from a perspective you didn't have before. It takes conscious courage to soften our defences enough to let happiness overcome us. But I found my fire of fearlessness, and I hope you have too. My mental health, is absolutely my wealth. And after 15 months of suffering. I feel the richest I've ever felt. Thanks for joining me again this week. A rough topic to write about with so much more to say - but for an intro into me and my mental health it's a: Ciao for now, See you on the flipside angels x