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

Lightbulb Moments

You ever get that moment in life where a sort of light comes on in your head? 

Perhaps there's been a little irritating blinking light in the back of your mind for a while, but you've ignored it because you don't quite understand it's importance or you are in denial about what that means for you so you carry on pretending you don't see it; maybe you even convince yourself it isn't there.

Life carries on, things escalate in one way or another; generally for the worse and you can't put your finger on the reason why. Is it the people involved's fault, was it a cruel twist of fate, did you do this?
It torments you, even as you move on and rebuild. Then one day it's like an eruption of light. 

You realise you've been trying to force something that was never meant to be. A job, a relationship, a friendship; whatever it was, it was either never meant to happen or it wasn't meant to last. You realise that it isn't anybody's fault. You are good enough, you are worthy, you're just trying to stick a round peg in a square hole and the more you try to force it the more fractured the peg becomes, or the hole widens; either way it's making it harder when you finally find the right pieces. 

It feels like you betrayed yourself by ignoring that niggling little warning sign, but it's not a inherently bad thing to have hope or to believe in something good. The worst you can accuse yourself of is naivety. You can brush yourself off and give yourself some credit for trying.

Then you can grieve the loss of whatever you desperately wanted, max out on self-care, and in time move forward.

I'm not sure I'm ready to move on just yet; but I've loosened my grip and I'm letting go starting now.
Things are going to be confusing and maybe lonely for a while, but I'm figuring it out one step at a time.

DO SOMETHING TODAY THAT YOU HAVE BEEN PUTTING OFF FOR A WHILE

A few things would have qualified; but after yesterday the only thing that made sense was me getting back to work on my book. 

I got my chores under control, I allowed myself a little lie-in because I woke up kinda tired, and then I sat down about an hour ago. Just under a thousand words later I'm having a lunch break, boiling up some eggs, and just did a read-through. Few tweaks made, but overall I was so pleased with it. It feels so good to have a flow again. When it's forced, it reads forced. If the author isn't feeling it; how can the reader? How can you expect them to choke on the fumes and feel the heat of the fire if you just go 'it was hot.' 
Words have to be more powerful because you don't have the visual aids a movie or television show have. A reader doesn't know what they see or feel unless you describe it. Is it simply cold, or is it icy, biting cold that catches in your throat and stings your cheekbones and reddens your nose?

It's my first attempt at such a large feat, but I'm awfully glad I pushed myself to get back on the saddle today.

What have you guys been putting off? 
Take a deep breath and, if you can, rip off the proverbial band aid. Today is never too late to start again, and tomorrow you might wish you'd started today.

Inspiration

Today something sparked inside of me I'd forgotten I had; passion.

Talking about potentially doing something that gets my creative side flowing, a chance to share a part of myself with others and have the chance to ignite a passion in others.

It might not occur, absolutely nothing could come from this, but in a way it already did.
It reminded me that not everything is dark and gloomy inside my head. Somewhere I have a tonne of glorious passion and ideas and inspiration. I pitched a course right off the top of my head to someone, and there was no time for overthinking or worrying; it was just me and this glorious feeling that I could actually do this. 

I felt truly alive, I felt like for the first time in such a long time that there was a glimmer of purpose to my life. That I wasn't completely lost and hopeless. More importantly that I made someone, even for a moment, believe in my ability to do it. Not a friend, not family; a professional with experience.

Even though I'm tired, in pain and preparing my soothing music for when I'm a teeny bit on edge when the night comes, I feel inspired. Tonight, I feel like perhaps this is the beginning of a new adventure. I experienced a moment of metanoia; not repentance as the New Testament (perhaps wrongly) translates, and not in a spiritual way; but in the sense that I felt my journey change course. 

It's foggy, and I only have the stars for a guide; but one way or another this ship's heading out of port and preparing for the unknown.

If it fails, at least I'll have something new to write about.. 🙃

Firsts

People talk a lot about 'firsts' in life.

First kiss.

First date.

First love.

First time

First heartbreak.. etc


And I love hearing about them. Honestly. I like hearing cute stories about how nervous they were, or how awkward it was. 

Unfortunately it also makes me feel sad, because some of those were taken from me. Sure, I've fallen in love, got my heart broken, and I've been on good and awful dates. But there are some things that a girl holds sacred. 
When I was in school I had to create a fake ex boyfriend because I couldn't tell my girl pals the truth when we all talked about it and I had to work out how to explain to my first proper boyfriend how he wasn't my first, even though I wanted him to be.
I've come to terms with these facts, and I'm not ashamed of what I've been through.
Part of me will always resent that I lost a rite of passage but the other part of me knows it's made every other first that extra bit special.
I get to have the first time I realised it wasn't my fault. The first day I smiled again. The first day I trusted men again. The first day I looked in a mirror and didn't completely hate the girl looking back at me. The first time I realised I was worthy of love.

And even better; I have a lot of firsts still left for me. 

So to all you out there who had a first taken from you, you're not alone. If talking about your first time is more upsetting than awkward or more sinister than regret; here's to you. I hope you all find someone who takes your breath away and makes you feel new again. Mostly, I hope you heal and love yourselves. I'm certainly learning to.

Mistakes

I'm not perfect, but I do know how to apologise when I'm wrong; even if I don't always see it until it's too late.

So here it is: I'm sorry for not seeing that I've gone from one destructive behaviour to another, and I'm sorry that I can't see how to move forward without losing my connection to the world and not sacrificing half a week to do so. I'm also sorry that it then leads to me depending on everyone else to keep me afloat while I flail hopelessly around in my mind, finding nothing but pain and sadness. It's not my intention, I never think of consequences and I'm too much of a dreamer and a optimist to ever think I will be fine this time, but it is selfish of me and I am sorry for that.

I think everyone who knows me well enough knows by now that for me alcohol isn't only a depressant, but that late nights and alcohol do something to me that goes beyond a hangover and sort of fries my emotions for a few days, strangely about two days after the fact.

Here's the conundrum. The problem I have with just walking away is that I'm afraid of change. Mostly I'm afraid if I stay home that people will move on with their lives without me; and that terrifies me because I'm lonely. I should trust that my friends would make time for me in other ways, and that perhaps I'd find new ones who don't share my destructive habits, but they are all I've got. I have my family, of course; but sometimes you need support and approval from people who aren't genetically programmed to love you. 

However, I'm also afraid that I'm going to end up dead, or setting back my progress one Cuban at a time. The thing about being a super strong person, the thing nobody talks about, is that you also know how weak you can be. You've seen yourself at breaking point and it's terrifying to think you could go back to that. I live in fear that today is going to be the day I lose it and maybe I won't get myself back this time. 

I know that whilst I carry on this live fast, be half dead all week nonsense I'm inviting the demons to come out to play. I'm not a stupid woman, even if my actions sometimes make even me question it. Sometimes I feel like an alien in my own body, sometimes I just want to forget how awful things feel and be surrounded with other people who don't really like themselves and drink themselves into denial. It's awful when you say it as it is; but facts are facts. 
To clarify, I'm not saying all my friends hate themselves- in fact they might all read this and think 'hey, don't apply your issues to my life' but in reality most happy late-20's/early 30-year olds don't tend to live for the weekend so they can feel a bit more sane. They might not do it consciously, I certainly don't sit there like 'right, Saturday night is here, let's drown myself in alcohol and try and act like I don't hate myself or my life' but it doesn't make it any less true. The reasons will differ, but the result is the same.

It doesn't work though. Sure, I might have a good laugh and get some nice photos and make memories. But I also have to endure the hangovers, possible (and highly likely) injuries, and fall outs from whatever inevitable drama that seems to circle everywhere. Something has got to change, I've got to change, and it scares the living hell out of me. But after all, Albert Einstein was a bit of a clever clogs and he apparently left a nugget of wisdom (and a load of stuff about gravity) behind when he passed away:

'Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome.'