We matter

I feel numb, as though someone scooped my nerve endings out, and yet everything is heightened. I feel like a zombie on steroids, dead inside but somehow living; somehow aware. I’m exhausted, but can’t sleep. I’m trapped, just existing, and honestly at times I just want out.

When I really struggle, I try to think about what I would do if I were a stranger. I ask myself 'what would I say to someone who was telling me these exact same things?'

I'd try and tell them that emotions aren't permanent. I'd remind them that they've survived 100% of the things they've encountered so far and therefore there's no reason to suggest they won't survive this. I'd remind them that they matter, that they're loved. I would never, for a moment try to say something like ‘I couldn’t cope without you,’ or ‘think of the pain you’ll leave behind.’ I don't think anyone should be guilt-tripped when opening up. I'd try and help them find a way to cope, help them through their pain. They need help, not more to worry about.

I also try to remember that, even if I can't always feel it, I'm loved by many, many people. I try to remind myself that I'm ill not a burden and that I'm worth loving even if I'm a bit low and erratic some days, manic and self-destructive others, and difficult mostly.

Things get hard sometimes, and mental illness especially can really take you to some deep, dark places. I've been on the edge a few times. Perhaps I'm realising that I'm teetering a little closer than I thought; but I know I've got a great support system and I'm determined not to bottle it all up inside. I plan to be open and honest and to utilise my self-care techniques. Stay distracted, stay away from destructive people and behaviours, and most importantly- stay safe.

For anyone who feels alone with these feelings; you're not. You matter, you deserve love and support through both the good times and the bad.

If you're trying to be there for someone feeling this way, then you're already doing the hardest part by simply being there. You don't need all the answers, you don't need to be a therapist. All you can do is be a consistent friend or support, and encourage them to reach out if necessary to professionals. 

There are plenty of helplines like Mental Health Matters or the Samaritans or you could search for places in your area. If you feel you or someone needs immediate care then there's always the nearest a&e or you can call an ambulance/101 depending on the severity.

Like I have to remind myself every now and again, there is absolutely no shame in asking for help. We all need some from time to time..yes, even the "normal" people. 

Resilience

I found you can cope with someone repeatedly letting you down. You see, they break you down day after day until one day you're nothing but rubble. And as hard and unbearably painful that is, after that point there's literally nothing further they can do. They broke you and yet you are still here, still breathing. Suddenly it doesn't shock you, or hurt you the next time. You find instead of doing structural damage, it just rebounds. So you rebuild, and you take solace in the fact that if a person is that destructive, they can't be happy. You no longer look internally for reasons why they caused you pain and you realise you actually pity them. You know you can always rebuild, that you've already survived the worst things imaginable and you didn't die. That's why damaged people are dangerous.. They know they can survive.

Late night thoughts

Sometimes I have loads on my mind, other times it's literally empty. Like; I know there are things I actually should be worrying about or thinking about but there's just nothing.

Today is not the latter, I have a thousand thoughts racing through my head and apparently being exhausted beyond words both physically and mentally isn't making one iota of difference.

I've had so many busy days, trying to keep myself from falling off the edge, and I'm a little worried now I've got a few 'nothing days' it will all catch up with me; but I'm too exhausted to force something else. Even God (if you believe such things) took the 7th day off and, whilst I'm not moulding the building blocks of life, I'm also not an almighty magical being; and keeping myself alive is bloody exhausting, thank you very much.

It's taken me two hours to write such a tiny amount of what amounts to nonsense, because the words are floating about and it's hard to connect anything that makes much sense. But I'm persevering. I needed to write this more than I needed sleep, because it keeps me grounded sometimes. It's as important to write about nothing as it is about masterpieces, because it keeps the story from being too one-sided. My life isn't just tapping away about inspirational thoughts or asking the kind of questions that have you debating the answer, sometimes my brain's a-blank and I sit here staring at a screen thinking 'there must be something' but I just come up with nada. 

Every day is a lesson, every failure leads to success; sometimes the best art isn't the most beautiful; it's the piece that you glean something from. I might not be telling you anything of note, but I'm pouring real, raw, thoughts and they're pretty unfiltered because I'm trying to maintain a flow of consciousness.

I've reached out to everyone I possibly can. I've complained, I've petitioned, I've given myself migraines from the stress of asking for help. I've handed the situation over to my mother's capable hands because nobody fights injustice better than her without a law degree; though arguably even those with them would perhaps find her a fair opponent.

For now I sign off, and hope a restful, undisturbed sleep is on the cards. I'll even settle for just undisturbed; I think asking for both is probably aiming too high.

I don't want to talk

No, I don’t want to talk right now. I don’t even want to think. I don’t even want to breathe, it’s too loud.
The thing about silence is it isn’t accessible. There’ll always be a breeze, or birdsong, or a car passing by. A slammed door, someone coughing. And even if you could eradicate all that, even if you didn’t hear your breathing; you can’t silence thoughts. I can't silence the voices in my head anymore than I can control the tide. 
I don’t want to hear anything anymore. Not the soft whirring of my laptop fan, or the muffled tick-tocking of the clock across the room, or the hum of the respective motors keeping both the fridge and freezer cool. Not the steady rhythm of my lungs, nor the thud of my heart pumping blood around my body. 
So no, I don’t want to talk. It’s far too loud already.

Reaching Out

Sometimes it's not something you can explain, it's more something you can feel: a weight on your chest, a chill in your bones that doesn't disperse no matter how warm you get, a sensation of pressure in your head like it's trapped in a vice, or distorted vision and sound as though you're experiencing the world through a veil. 

I don't feel depressed, I still have goals and things I view as positive. I'm not manic, I haven't the energy. I'm not feeling reflective or stable; I just feel on edge, and I don't know how to explain it. 
I'm not paranoid, because I'm not envisioning that this is some conspiracy or that someone's out to get me. However, I'd be dumb to not be a little wary of what this all means for me going forwards.
It's more than a little anxiety, it's like I've got a thousand Sneakoscopes (Harry Potter reference for anyone wondering) whistling and spinning in my head but I'm constantly hitting the override button because I can't find any known threat.

PTSD is hard to manage because you're battling a threat that's long gone. You're wired for a war that remains only in your memory, but still just as afraid as you were at the time. Flashbacks aren't cute things you post on Instagram on a Friday, they're not as simple as recalling a memory; your brain transports you there and not only can you see the event unfolding but you can taste, smell, hear and feel everything as though it is actually reoccurring at that moment in time. It's the closest thing you'll ever get to time travel I'd imagine; except you have no control of the destination or how it affects you.

BPD is hard to manage because one of the most unpleasant traits is how deeply you feel emotions. It's said to be like getting third degree burns due to the intensity. I've said this before in other posts I'm certain, but I just want to hammer this point home. Feelings HURT us. And they're confusing and overwhelming and many times you find yourself questioning if what you are feeling is rational or just amplified way out of proportion. 'Should I feel this way?' Is something I think about numerous times a day.

I have both PTSD and BPD; so when my flashbacks surface not only am I having to face the trauma again, but it's like having lava poured onto my flesh at the same time. 

I've never really explained this to anybody, but I don't want to be touched when I'm emotional because I can't handle a single other sensation. It's not comforting to me in that moment, it's just another thing to try and process. I know it's probably hard for my family to have me reject their comfort, after all nobody wants to see somebody suffer, but it's torture for me to be cuddled when I feel like my insides are being liquefied. I have to self-soothe; maybe this also stems from my childhood and self-reliance but it really is just too much for me. Once the pain has reduced to a more manageable level then I can settle a little and may be willing to be comforted with more than words.

I do feel subsequently that, as when these traits are traumatising me hand-in-hand with one another my psychosis is at it's most controlling, when I ask for help from services designed for these difficulties I am not wrong for expecting at least a returned phone call. I am a huge believer and advocate of the 'reach out' campaign but recently have been left feeling abandoned and incredibly alone in all of this. 

Of course I employ the coping techniques I've learned over the years, and I implement ways to keep myself safe but when you're told to ask for help (which goes against my very nature) and then get none for your effort, it's very damaging. There's still an unspoken issue in the system where you're either too well or too ill and it appears if you're somewhere dead centre to those points you can get some help and if not; better luck next time? 

Why does it seem to take reaching crisis point for someone to take you seriously? Why is it when you're sat there crying about how frightened you are and how damn hard you're trying to stay sane and alive that you're seemingly left to fight it out alone?

I thought long and hard about posting this, because I'm not in any way suggesting people don't reach out, it's always the right thing to do. I'm going to keep doing so, no matter how devastating the outcome seems, because I know I deserve it.


For tonight at least, I'm going to get an early night after dinner and a bath and try not to think about the million things I'll end up thinking about anyway 😪

Conflict

How do you know when some kinds of help are actually a hindrance and you're worse off taking it?

For example, when the time comes to step back from that extra support are you then going to regress? 

Can you get too much help to the point it starts to be conflicting, confusing, and detrimental to your healing process?

How do you know which direction to go in when looking for therapy in the interim whilst you are on a waiting list for specialist therapeutic treatment? 

I know I can't go about my business for a whole year with no emotional support from a professional, I've opened all these boxes of pain and been left to sit amongst the mayhem. 

However, would this therapy derail all I've worked hard for? 

Could it potentially do damage to meddle outside of my care plan?

My care-coordinator suggested I try, but cannot advise on who or where which leaves me more confused than ever. I understand why she can't, she can only recommend what she knows within the system.. but it would help if the private counsellors and NHS had a little overlap so as to not be such a stab in the dark.

Would I be asking too much of myself by adding another version of therapy just to bounce straight into another when I am at the top of the list?

I remember after Ash Eton feeling that a break from therapy wasn't just welcomed, but necessary. Could I then ruin my experience at my specialist therapy by being too exhausted from the stand-in one? I mean it's all well and good saying 'I just won't talk about certain things' but is it healthy to segregate thoughts and feelings based purely on convenience? Is it even possible? 

What if I start it, start to feel worse to the point of needing to stop and then have absolutely nothing again and feel even more alone with things yhan I already do? 

Or what if I really need lots of sessions and it's just too unaffordable? £40 a session is craaaazy, imagine paying that once a week or more 😭 it just wouldn't be feasible. 

So many things to think about, but it all keeps coming back to one thing, the only thing that I solidly know; I have to find something, because I just can't do it alone anymore.

Recovery

What is recovery?

Can you ever 'recover' from some things? Will I be in recovery forever? If not, then what exactly is the line between illness, recovery, and being in remission?

I'm not at crisis point but I fluctuate between coping and near-crisis, each time I learn from it but it's been explained to me over and over again that there's no cure; only management. So if there is no cure, if I have this for life, how can I be in recovery? If you cannot be cured can you be said to have recovered?

I'm questioning if there should be a different word for this journey I'm undertaking. But I'll admit I am struggling with which word to use.

Repossession? In the sense of me regaining control of my life after my illness takes the wheel and drives me off the road. Is this not just me taking back my mind and not recovery?

Rehabilitation? Having to re-learn who I am and understand what has brought me to this point in life, having to walk away from the path I wanted to be on and find a new future for myself, having to start from scratch; is this not rehabilitation and not recovery?

I'm not sure you can recover from some traumas. Move on, yes, definitely in time. I just think some things change you forever and while you can still live life, if you are permanently altered by something you experienced- especially whilst you are still developing; then you can't recover because that person you were beforehand has been lost forever. Of course this is just my opinion and not necessarily one others will agree with, and I can only speak of my own experiences and feelings in regards to this.

I just feel the word recovery has a lot of pressure to it. Like at some point I should be recovered already and that each time I slip backwards I am letting someone down, even if it's just myself in my own head. It feels like I'm climbing this recovery mountain except as I reach half-way I realise that there is no peak and therefore I can never reach it; but going back down isn't an option either because that's to give up on life. So I'm not only going over life's hill but also lost in the unrelenting, never-ending and sometimes disorientating ranges of the unobtainable recovered status.


Too cynical for a Monday evening perhaps, maybe I should have kept it lighter as most people are generally tired of Mondays and it's soul sucking ways, but I promised myself I'd keep this blog honest and it's what I've been pondering the past few days and I'm finally feeling well enough to develop those thoughts into words. I am, ironically, almost recovered from the flu. I have some clarity to my mind again after a while drowning in pain and fog. It's good to be me again.. even if being me is something that I don't always like.

Proud

I've been struggling for a while mentally, so I haven't posted in a while. I won't apologise, because it was the right thing for me to do; my health is more important than my blog. Sometimes you have to just accept that things are harder than you are capable of handling for the time being, and if you don't take a step back then things will spiral out of control.

And they did spiral a little. I went on a manic high and my spending got really out of control, my drinking led to bad decisions, and I inevitably crashed. 

Thankfully, I reached out; unfortunately a little too late, but still a lot sooner than I would have done a year ago. It's a major progress in my recovery. Today marks a year since I last self-harmed, and that's why I am posting.

I'm still ill, I'm still depressed and struggling with voices whilst also battling some awful cold virus of sorts, still exhausted; but today I am also incredibly proud.

My demons are still there, my journey is far from over, but self-harm was my go-to every time things got out of control. I've got other unhealthy coping mechanisms I still need to kick, but I never thought I'd overcome this so one day I could be writing about the next anniversary.

I'm going to leave this post short and sweet because I'm still poorly and its taken a lot out of me, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to mark this monumental point in my recovery. I also wanted to thank each and every one of my friends and family who have helped me get here. I love you all.

Connected?

It's funny; we're so connected as a society. It's the age of social media, and there's little we can't access from our screens.

What happened in 1690? Google search. Who's that girl hanging around your boyfriend? Facebook search. What's the latest song? Youtube search. 

There are Youtube tutorials for almost anything you could want to know how to do, there are people streaming live on Twitch. We can video chat with our friends wherever we are, we can send photos to one another and get responses in seconds. 

You know what there doesn't seem to be a tutorial on? How to be human. 

We barely look up from our phones to notice what's going on around us, and we'd rather group chat online than hang out in person. Memes and silly Gifs have replaced actual conversation. Our anxiety is sky-high when we have to be around other humans because it's becoming so unnatural for us to socialise. We order online, we use apps in restaurants to order or utilise self-service checkouts because we don't want to talk to a person, we isolate ourselves further and judge our interactions based on likes. We barely laugh anymore, we sharply exhale through our nose at a message and continue to blithely scroll through meaningless articles about celebrities and adverts designed to make us hate ourselves and our fellow humans more each day. We compare ourselves to other cyber zombies whose profiles state 'active' and yet haven't moved all day because they're busy thinking they're being social.

Is it a surprise to anyone that depression is on the rise? The human race is, at it's core, a highly sociable species and as such we need a steady stream of human interaction in order to survive. 
We like a friend's status but probably haven't seen them in months. We don't really ask if anyone is doing okay, or if they need a hug. We are so brainwashed by the cyber versions of ourselves we have created that we forget an actual human being is typing this. A real, live, person with thoughts and feelings and problems that most won't put on social media. A person in need of a face to face conversation rather than a few 'it will be fine' messages. 

I'm not saying social media can't be a good thing. I'm just saying sometimes it would be better if we could all switch off from the cyber world and tune back in to real life. Make more plans to see your friends and family in person; make real memories that you can look back on. I don't want to look back in 20 years and wish I had spend my youth doing something other than sat in my room pretending to have friends while they all sat in their rooms doing the same. 

There's so much to life beyond the screen. I think if we all took a little hiatus from it all, our mental health would be very grateful.

WRITE A LETTER TO YOUR MENTAL HEALTH

Dear brain, and subsequent disorders;

I am writing to apologise for blaming you for everything that went wrong in my life. I'm also writing to thank you for, in your messed up and totally unhealthy and unconventional way, trying to protect me from harm.
It may seem strange me saying this, when at times having these mental illnesses have actually made me feel like self-harm or suicide were the only options, but I understand better now. It was always deeper than that. I've been through traumatic things which you've both tried to protect me from and also tried to make me face; because denial simply wasn't working.
For the years I struggled to feel or comprehend emotions, I now understand was because I wasn't ready to unleash such pain at such a young age. You were helping me survive the best way you could. You'd never learned how to do this in a healthy way because I was so young when I needed protecting, and that's okay. 
For the time when you relinquished that barrier, because I was finally away from danger and you decided to open the floodgates in the form of psychosis; I forgive you. It was way too much to hold in forever, and as much as I wish I didn't have to; I did have to come to terms with it. The timing definitely sucked, and I do wish I'd managed to finish uni first, but I'm now starting to heal and that's more important than a degree.
I'm sorry I didn't think of my mental health as I forced myself to drink and stay out all night and refuse to accept the consequences of those actions. I'm sorry I put myself in vulnerable situations because I stopped caring about myself for a while and ultimately gave up believing I was worth anything.
I'm sorry I didn't reach out for help sooner, I'm sorry I left you to drown in all the things I just wasn't prepared to feel or acknowledge. 
Thank you for fighting for us even as I simultaneously asked for and rejected help, and for reminding me what I had to fight for as I wanted to dwell in my depression and give up. For forcing me to reach out even when I was in utter despair and terrified, and allowing me to be here typing this today.
I can't promise to never neglect you as I think we are all guilty of that sometimes; but I can promise to make a conscious effort to check in with you every now and again and listen carefully to the signs of struggle you present me with, instead of shutting you out again.
I do request that going forward you allow me to make my own choices with regards to how I cope, instead of jamming the 'factory override' button on and prompting me to engage in unhealthy techniques that I've worked extremely hard to overcome; such as, but not limited to, self-reliance and self-harm. It's not a weakness to ask for help so please don't fight me every time I try to tell people that I'm not feeling too good. It's also okay to take medication, it does not mean I've failed, and it feels really good to not be so depressed all the time, so please help me remember to take them and to make regular appointments with my doctor so I don't run out. I feel okay because I take them, not because I don't need them. We know this because whenever I don't take them, I spiral out of control and it's not fun picking up the pieces. 
We're not done with this fight, we've got many more wars to face together, and perhaps we will be fighting for our entire lives; but you've been the only constant in this. Only you truly know just how dark and painful things have been, how close we've been to giving up, and how much each day costs us. We've been to very depths of our own hell together and we've come out the other side. So we picked up PTSD and a few scars both visible and emotional along the way. So we're perhaps not the same as we were intended to be when our life began. What's the use of playing what ifs? 
Here's to the next 50+ years or so of being a formidable, resilient, awesome team. Here's to us and all we've achieved against the odds.
Love always,
                       Zoe
                               xxx