understanding once or understanding?

I think anyone that’s ever truly felt the meaning of being suicidal, i don’t mean having a bad day at work, or the ‘oh kill me’ remarks made by people embarrassed by the night before, i mean someone who’s come to their tether, burnt at both ends, and wants it to end, eventually at some point wonder who actually understands us? Everyone claims to, Our family members, our friends? Professionals. And how much do they really understand? Recent events in my life have led me to doubts, overthinking late at night. And maybe some of you agree with me?

Now i am in ‘recovery’ i feel the people around me benefit more than i do… is that stupid? Selfish? They don’t have to deal with the constant tears, nor constant actions towards ending my life, constant down days, they don’t have to deal with the thoughts aloud anymore. but i do? they’re still loud, and fresh, for me anyway… but thats allowed to right? thats something that’s always confused me about recovery… once you’ve done the hospital part, you’re on your medication, your smiling again. Do people think it’s stops? The flashbacks, the thoughts, the doubts? The pain, the sleepless nights, the body memories? Oh the body memories. Do people think you never have a bad day again and when you do, what does that mean for them? Thats the problem, so many people claim to understand, but understanding isn’t about understanding once, it’s about understanding over and over and over again, and continuing to understand for as long as that individual needs. Don’t get me wrong, some people attempt their life’s and never ever go back to that dark place again, but take someone with PTSD. That is such a complex diagnosis, it can come whenever. A certain smell, place, look, taste, touch, can trigger off a horrific memory and that person is back in that original place that put them as a suicidal risk in the first place, you can’t shield them from it, so it happens, over and over and over again. That’s not going round in circles, as I’ve heard many people claim it to be. That’s part of recovery. Learning how to deal with it when it does come, and eventually, maybe, it gets easier every time. What is going round in circles is going back to having to hide it because people don’t understand why you’re feeling this way again, and make you feel like a scratched, old, one song record, that’s the repeatative part.

Im just tired of explaining myself, explaining my feelings, when me speaking out in the first place was my attempt of stopping that, stopping being an irritant… why should I constantly have to explain why I feel the way I Do? If they claim they understand? They clearly, very very clearly don’t, and I don’t know if they ever will.

Am I alone? Sure feels that way.

 

 

 

Ill or evil?

People will tell me that I’ll move on, maybe one day I will, but for now… how do I express how I’m hurting without sounding crazy? How do I express how I feel towards my abuser without sounding crazy? Am I crazy? I haven’t felt normal for a very, very long time. I’m not sure how I feel. It’s old news for everyone now, but everything’s so real for me, his voice, his eyes, his stomach turning touch. The hate I feel, resentment, and love, all still jumbled up in my little damaged head. Weird combo of emotions? Your telling me.

How is it possible to love, hate and miss someone so much at the same time? People have said to me, how can you still love someone who nearly killed you, but I say how can’t I? It’s like thinking of him as two different people. One being who I hate, resent, and whom the very thought of can stop me sleeping for days. The other being one I love and miss dearly, and would forgive and forget in an instant to spend one more day with, his laugh, his stories and his kind loving heart. The sober and the drunk. The one I wanted to save and the one who ruined me in the process of me trying. Does that make me ill? Or does that make him ill for being able to have 2 completely polar opposite personas? Is he ill or evil? Someone please make sense of this all for me.

I have so many questions that most of the time I struggle to think of anything else. I have so many emotions towards this one person and one part of my life I can’t express it to anyone because my time for that has come and gone, what do I do, keep it all in again? I’m sick of hearing it, I’m sick of feeling it too. Just like the rest of them. ‘We can’t keep doing this m’ is what I hear, ‘we’re going around in circles’ and it dawns on me suddenly, were not going in circles at all, I am, alone, with no one else who understands the outsider feeling now he’s gone, and I’m not circling, I’m at a dead end, and right now, I don’t think I’ll ever turn back.

You say Self-destructing? I say I’m not the one who keeps pressing that button.

Its finally up to me.

Hey guys… so I actually wrote this piece when I was in hospital about 2 months into my admission, completely forgot about it until I read through my old scrap books! I was always happy with this one, I felt I could say it out loud quietly and I’d still feel the weight lifted of my chest remembering the power I felt writing it. Hope you enjoy it 😌

Lost, broken and yet to be found. Simply sat, patient and waiting for the sun to go down. No one to turn to, no one to call, when life gets tough I take it all, on the shoulders, I shall bite my tongue, no bating an eye lid, not saying a word, no not one.

But when it all gets too much, and I turn to tears by your touch, please know I fought all I could but waiting for the end is just no good. To bring the end before it’s due is never a path that should be taken, but to avoid the painful, destroying, degrading, between now and then, it’s just not worth it, the thought has me shaken.

I have no idea how to save myself from the reflection in the mirror, looking back at me with nothing, emotionless. Becoming more of a threat to myself than he who put me here, this is a mess: I’m a mess.

My poor 9 year old self, ripped from my childhood at such a Young age, 17 now and still only living for a pen and a page. Making sense of the world by writing away, the writing running and cutting deeper day by day. But nothing will ever run deeper than the pain of the past that never shows, hidden so go ahead, smile and pose.

I feel so empty, my innocence stolen as soon as it showed. Keep quiet, hold on and maybe he’ll go. Maybe he’ll realise, maybe he’ll know, but I can’t hold onto this forever, I have to let go, what to do, what to say. I’m the only one who can take the pain away, so why is it so hard to admit to the past, To take it all away, to break off his mask?

I hate him, I hate it all, but to put him away, what or how do I find the words to say? Someone help me make the call. The cutting, The hurting has to stop, but how can I get him to if I can’t stop myself, my dignity is up on a shelf.

Sighing, whining, either way this has to end, I can’t cope, I’m so dirty, I barely blend. Cry me a river, cry up a storm, scare me all you can but whatever you do I’ll always be torn, torn between the truth and the cover. I couldn’t do it, to tell, why? What about my mother?

To scream from the roof tops or not to scream, someone help me, mend me, I’m split at all seems. I can’t control this feeling for he who holds all my power and pain keeps on dealing, I want to end it all, I want him to end it all, it needs to stop now, before I fall, before I fall over the line of ever returning, by once again the power is in this mans hands, my soul is burning, yearning to be free, but when, when will that ever be?

For this man who can set me free is one I love dearly and the pain in which he smothers, this man is also known as my brother.

Brother by blood, once by bond, NEVER again, that chance is gone. With my mouth being uptaped and saying the words I was once afraid of hearing, the dark, no escape sky’s may finally be clearing, clearing so I can see. It’s now up to me, who I shall be. To stay on the rocky road or to take a left and ask for the code. The code is the help I’ll need along the way, to ask for it, to take it, that’s all my say.

So which is the path I wish to choose, to give up now or go for it? I have too much to lose. I shall always be saddened by the thought of the life I once had, but too much had happened to ever go back. Back to him, back to his ways. But the truths been told and justice will be payed.

Brother by blood not by bond, along with him, my days of torture are gone. Gone with the wind, gone with the pain, gone with my past where it’ll always remain. The brother I once knew, the one I once loved, was taken over by demons that hide in his blood, he died the first time he touched me, his soul is gone, The shell it left, will know I have won.

Now the war with him has ended I must begin battling the one within me to be truly mended, mended from the pain, that once took my life. For the new me I will sacrifice, sacrifice the good memories amoungst the bad, I will grieve, I will no longer be sad, for it’s the lack of acceptance that has saddened me, and I can change that, I can make it stop! I have the power to chose who I’ll be, and that’s completely and utterly up to ME.

The 4am flashbacks

you know the nights, well mornings, or days where you’ve been fine, completely fine. Laughing, joking, maybe even confident that you are better, or atleast you feel better. And then it hits you like a ton of bricks that you still remember what happened to you, in details you wish you didn’t, and you begin to cry and you physically cannot stop. And you can’t explain to anyone the reason for your sudden change in mood, because you don’t even understand it yourself, for a second you have amnesia. (And for a second you’d wish it’d stay) You forget the pain, the constant stabbing at your heart. The prickling of tears in your eyes, because you are living, and it’s worth it, it’s so worth it. But those wake up calls are what prove that your fight, and your life is still going on, it makes you real and keeps what happened to you, not to the front of your mind and not to let it take over, but keeps it as a part of your life that you need to work on, not just put behind you thinking you’ll get over it that way because then it will, one day sneak up on you and it won’t leave or fade. Because you haven’t worked on it, or even tried.

It might break you for a few minutes, hours, days, some cases weeks. But you’ll forget and you’ll laugh again, and every time you forget and remember again, it’ll become less triggering aslong as you confront your feelings. Confront yourself. This might not work for some people, but it’s helped me so so much, I’m still learning by all means and I don’t know everything, but I’m blogging not just my positive thoughts and attitudes on my mental health journey and how far I’ve come but my slip ups, and my mistakes. My flaws shall we say, because that’s what recovery is. Slip ups, steps forward, it’s not straight forward. But we are know that it won’t be when we agree to fight. You can’t expect to wake up one day after years of whatever it may be, suicide attempts, self harm, drug abuse, and you’re recovered. Your bad habits have become part of your routine, and it’ll take time to break out of that. Be patient.

The thing I find so hard about it is the people around you, on the other end of the phone call you’ve just ended quickly, or on the end of the text messages you’ve stopped replying to. you’ve got your friends and family now staring at you or questioning you and wondering what the fuck just switched in your head for you to just change so quickly, maybe even wondering what happened yourself. You start to think that they think your just going round in circles, when really your moving forwarding by giving yourself time to grieve and feeling the emotion rather than blocking it out. That’s another thing I had to realise, when your in a good place,or even a better place where you can talk without crying, getting angry or triggered. explain what happens, (if they don’t know why you have flashbacks you don’t have to tell them, just tell them you get them) that you get cold memories, quick flashes of what happened, reminders are EVERYWHERE. So people stop asking you so many questions when it does happen, it’s overwhelming, believe it or not it makes it easier for YOU. Not them, and you have to put yourself first. Take a moment to collect yourself and remember the people around you, and the laughing, the happiness is what you’re fighting for. (And for yourself, of course) you’ve gotta remember a big part of mental health is always paranoia, there’s no denying it. How do you think we make the people around us feel when we all of a sudden go quiet on them? How would we feel if it was the other way around? We’d deserve an explanation right? So do they, even if we don’t quite feel like giving them one, because unfortunately. We all become stubborn when suffering.

An example, I don’t live with my mum as I couldn’t live in that house unfortunately due to flash backs and memories, But Over time And with getting better I go there quite often now because I adore her, and I miss her every second I’m away from her. But there’s one rule, due to the abuse I suffered in that house I cannot stay in my old bedroom (she hasn’t moved yet, she has tried) but she doesn’t know this is my one rule, which is my own fault. Surprise surprise the only room free is the one I don’t and can’t stay in. So I’m now sat here, in tears. at 4am, writing a blog about the cold memories, the brick walls, and those reminders that’ll never go, if my mum had known. Something could have been done to prevent this, she wouldn’t of said this is the room I’m staying in, but I didn’t I kept quiet because old habits die hard. So I need to pull my mum aside tomorrow and explain, she might even feel bad. But I will explain that shouldn’t be the case, because I’m learning and I’m growing with my recovery, I’m still learning to speak out and believe it or not  I’m STILL learning how to cope with triggers, memories and flash backs even 2 years on. And I’m learning that although I don’t owe an explaination for my actions to anyone, out of respect, and for the simple fact of helping them understand me because they LOVE me. They do deserve one, don’t be stubborn guys! That’s the worse thing we can be when all anyone around us wants to do is help us want to live and to go on living.

Now I’m gunna go climb into bed with my mum, she won’t mind, 18 or not, cuddles from her are personally my favourite kind of anxiety and sleeping pill. (Along side some quetapine and promethazine of course haha)

Night ✌🏻

 

A letter for the old, fragile me.

You are going to get through this. In 2 years time you’ll be sat on your bed writing a blog post on how you conquered inpatient, are in a home of your own, and can finally close your eyes at night without seeing the devil in the darkness of your eyelids. Your going to be get through this, You won’t have to worry about those ‘how are you feeling? Don’t answer that. I will tell you how you are feeling because you can’t tell me.’  you won’t have to think about the constant darkness surrounding you everyday of your life, tell someone, tell them now, sooner rather than later because they will believe you M, they really believe you. They support you, they’ve held you up, they’ve got you help, they love YOU. Not him. HEs lying, everything he says is a lie. You need to ignore who he was and acknowledge who he is. WAKE UP NOW M. He’s not who you knew, he’s not who you loved. WAKE UP. They believe you, your going to get through this. dont cut yourself, put down the blade, don’t take that pill or sniff that last line, put the needle down, flush it down the toilet, walk out of his house and go and tell someone,  Put it all down, put it away, YOURE GOING TO GET THROUGH THIS. You stop blacking out, you don’t get stomach pain anymore, you have periods again M, you’ve been told you can still conceive, your scaring is nearly gone, you stop hurting yourself, you’ve been self harm free for 6 months and haven’t attempted your life in over a year, you want to live M, you’re going to get through this. You WANT to live, you’re really living m, mum is happy and healthy, it didn’t destroy her M, it’s made you all stronger, they believe you, you’re all going to get through this. Everything you feared, everything you worried about, everything you thought would go wrong has gone right, he hasn’t touched you in 2 years M, you’re clean now, you’re going to get through this. Stop scrubbing your skin, put down the soap, put down the scaler. PUT DOWN THE BLEACH M, he’s gone, its over, we’re happy. Everyone’s happy M, he isn’t m, he doesn’t deserve to be. you miss him, you love him, the old him, you’re coping m, you’re on medication, you’ve got a diagnosis, you’re going to get through this. your hairs grown back, you’ve lost the extra weight he forced you to gain, you’ve met someone, you’ve fallen in love, and out of love, you’ve been called beautiful and believe it or not you’ve been LOVED by someone in a way you thought no one would or could ever love you, lust you or attract to you, real love, a real relationship m. Your going to get through this. You wake up in the morning with a feeling of life not a feeling of regret just from opening your eyes, you can have a meal without feeling sick and unworthy, you feel like you’re worth something m, you’re worth something. You take your medication without thinking of taking enough to end it, you take the right amount everyday and you enjoy it, it’s become part of your life that helps you live m. You’re going to get through this. You can be touched now without crying, mum can hold you again without you flinching, your brothers, the good brothers can hug you without you screaming at them to stop, you can look at them without seeing him now, the resembalance in looks doesn’t bother you m, you stop wearing coloured contacts, you can bare your eye colour being the same as his because it’s not his, it’s your dad’s, it’s what makes you your daddy’s daughter, rather than having the same eyes as your monster brother, it’s a positive now m, you did it, you can bare it m, you did it, you’re laughing again, real laughing, you’ve got real friends, you cry a lot but you laugh just as damn much. You’re going to get through this, Tell someone, tell someone now M because you’ve done it, it’s over, you’re alive and you’re living. I’m so proud of you m, you’re going to get through this.

Im so proud of me, I’m getting through this.

RED.

I remember when it first happened, I couldn’t stop it, I couldn’t fight it, scrap that.

when I say remember, I vaguely recall, a body over me, shadows on the wall,

they say when its said and done, its done and said, but no news paper nor horror told me about this feeling of regret.

regret for not fighting, regret for being to blame, no, no one told me about the pain nor the shame.

but am I to the blame? or is this simply a myth, a myth carefully and cunningly made up by a man I see coloured in red. .

a man so evil, a man so cruel, he’ll make your own reflection drown into the walls.

but when all is said and done, and all is done and said, he begins to get redressed, he extraordinarily begins to cover all shades of red.

before stepping out from under, he must prepare, cause if no one knows, no one can stop him, save him, no one can care

he disguises himself like a man on a captivating mission, our very own prince charming, our very own Mr Britain

his sins are his addiction, and the thrill of what hides beneath, horns and a tail, all hiding behind his friendly white teeth.

he leaves her there, to get redressed, to hide herself, to hide his mess.

she paints on her smile, his had rubbed off on her so its a new costly shade of red, because to hide his sins, differs her from the rest.

She won’t talk, she will smile, maybe laugh a little louder than the rest of the souls, its a good cover, so good that not even her own mother knows that the devil is inside her brother.

She wont cry, she’ll simple step out from under, and the world will forever be filled with red, fire and thunder.

 

 

 

 

A day in the life of an inpatient

So today I didn’t wake up until 12, which was nice as I didn’t sleep until half past 6 because sometimes I find it difficult to settle in the hospital and night time is usually when my urges and bad thoughts start to take over, but I distracted myself as usual and did manage to get some sleep 😊
Lunch Is at half 12 but with only just waking up I’m not usually hungry at the beginning of my day, so I lounge for a while and take my unescorted (where I can go off for a walk on my own) and have a cigerette and make my daily call to my mum.

Many people think that as an inpatient everything is always crazy and unsettled. Truth is its just like being at home but without your family.
Although the people around me have become more like a family than strangers which is lovely but when you get easily attached like me you know it’s harder to let go.
I had a lovely chat with S today about all the things happening and going on, for some reason everytime we talk we end up in tears. Hes a male HCA and he has been through things some people can only imagine in their nightmares and he is such an inspiration to my recovery. We spoke about his past and how it links with my present, and about how we can avoid situations but learn from them at the same time, he never fails to amaze me with his strength and words of wisdom.
The chats left me feeling very positive yet blue in a good way… left me to wonder on all the things that could happen in life if I let them, and how I am the main person in control. Control is the best thing someone can have, but what we have to learn is its not the control around us but the control of ourselves; self control is the only things that keeps the world from forming a disfunction like the purge.
I feel as if I can start to plan my days without the fear of what tomorrow could have to offer, but more the excitement of what it could offer.
If you start the day with a positive mindset anything is possible and I mean anything!
So now I’m sat on my second unescorted of the day with a cup of tea and a cigerette writing this blog and thinking of all the things I could do today for tomorrow and so on. The mind is crazy, but there’s always a side that can control it all.
Might not make a lot of sense but if the right person reads it, it’ll make everything slowly fall into place in their minds.
Don’t start the day with a negative because you’re sure to have a rubbish day, wake up and feel how everyday is a blessing and an opportunity waiting.
Stay safe!
UPDATE – for everyone out there who thinks inpatient will be the worst thing for you, if your anything like me, it won’t be. It’ll be hard, you’ll have to fight every minute, you’ll be triggered, pushed to your limits but what you’ve gotta understand is whether your in a hospital or the real world there will be triggers at every turn and it’s you who has the power to control how much those triggers affect you. You have to believe in yourself like I believe in myself. So many people have this idea of a psychiatric hospital being a scary fucked up place because of films and stereotypes. I can promise you now I laughed and so did my inpatient family just as much as we cried. We danced, we bonded, we fell into a routine of being there for each other. But you can’t get distracted by everyone else’s problems, to hide the underlining fact you are in there because you are the one who needs help. I remember days me and the girls who put music on and sing for hours, colour, laugh, joke, tell stories, relate to each other. No creepy music at bed times and no screaming (not as bad as you think) the staff are kind, loving and understanding (some, give and take) and you’ll form a bond. You have to give in order to take, give yourself a chance to get better, give the hospital a chance to help you get better, follow the rules because I can guarantee you it’ll fill your life with order, and routine and without a doubt having a routine in a messy life is very important. I’m babbling on but this is important guys and girls, so many teens look to the internet for help on what to do before inpatient, how to get into inpatient, how to stay out of inpatient. It’s crazy how much crap social media has on it. I for one am so grateful to have spent 10 months at the priory, to have met the girls, guys and staff I did and to have known what it was like to feel apart of something, a dysfunctional family. I will always love them, I hated hospital, I hated having to go, but the people inside the building, that’s what got me through and to where I am now. They know who they are. Unless inpatient is an option for you, don’t force it. Because although it was a nice tonne when I NEEDED IT. It can also be very eye opening, and unless you’ve been told you need it or have to go, then really, the stuff you see when the ward is unsettled, isn’t worth it for the good times I experienced! I needed hospital to get where I am, but so many people seem to think mental health is a community they want to be apart of. Mental health chose us, and now we have to ally with it to survive. Please don’t mock us by trying to claim a mental illness that isn’t there, that’s when people like me, decide to stay quite because we get stereotyped as attention seekers. Anyone that’s ever been inpatient will understand what I’m trying to say in that last part, unless you need it, are being forced or it’s been offered, don’t force inpatient. Mental health isn’t a trend nor a craze, and it’ll continue to affect people’s lives for years and years to come… don’t mock it.

On April 1st, 2014 my hair began to fall out due to the stress of the Weight of the secret I had been carrying around for so long. It was around about half past 7 in the evening and my mum had popped out to see her friend.. that’s when I took my shoulder length, fully thick hair down and began to brush it, my sister then began pulling clumps of hair of my shoulder and around me to avoid me seeing it all falling out. Within 4 hours I had nothing left.. I decided to go for a bath to calm down, but it was then like a sea of Brown hair, I was completely bald and that wasn’t the end.. my eyebrows, every part of my body began to shread and I was well and truly deflated and absolutely gutted.
It was 3 months before my prom and i think that hit me a lot, knowing I’d either have to go to prom bald or in a wig and I wasn’t happy, and that began to show me how everything he who shall not be named (w*nker) was doing was wrong, and that was really the beginning of the end of the abuse I was enduring and had been half my life.
But anyway I went to the doctors, and was diagnosed with alopecia arearta, and stress induced hair loss that’s very quick and usually only happens for a short while.
By prom, 27th of June 2014, my hair was about a grade 3 and was slowly and gradually starting to grow back..
Luckily a charity called the Princess trust donate money for high class human hair wigs for young girls with alopecia and cancer, so I was fortunate enough to receive a £1200 blonde highlighted wig to wear for 12 months and I managed to wear it for my prom too!
It gave me so much of my confidence back and made me feel as if I could conquer anything…
Everyone would comment on how it looked, and how real it looked, my friends wanted one for themselves!
(Unfortunately I lose my friends through the battle with myself over the past 3 years, I have my bestfriend of 13 years and she’s all I need, but we’ll go more into that in another post)
So yeah, at first it seemed like the end of the world, but really, it was the start of something new, no matter what happens in life positivity is just around the corner, don’t commit to a permanent and unchangeable solution over a temporary problem.. that’s the greatest lesson anyone with depression or a mental illness in general can learn, because it makes complete sense.
Short blog today but just a little more of an example of the motivation that pushed me to get were I am 😊