What Recovery Means to Me

Last month, I wrote a series of blog posts covering some of my experiences with mental illness. They mostly focussed on my experience as a teenager, because that’s when my mental health was at its worst. But that’s not to say that I don’t still struggle.

The struggle is different now, though. Now, I’m trying to fight my mental illnesses, whereas before, I was defeated by them. And while I know that I’ll never completely beat them, there are still little victories, small wins, and that's enough. We're able to co-exist.

A friend of mine who recently blogged about her OCD mentioned how “recovery is a journey, not a destination”. And she’s so right. 

It’s not necessarily about needing a cure; it’s about having the tools you need to be able to cope. It’s about having your illness be a part of you, like your hair or your eye colour – not something that completely defines you. It’s about accepting that there are bad days and bad moments, but recognising that they’re going to pass. 

I have anxiety, but now I see that I’m more than that. It’s a part of my life, but my world is so much more than that.

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My Visit to the Denbigh Asylum

I write a lot about my life on this little blog... the good, the bad and the ugly. But something I’ve never written about is the scary. So, for Halloween, I thought I’d post something a bit different. I’m going to tell you about the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me. 

Whether you choose to believe it or not is up to you. The dialogue might not always be 100% accurate, and little details here and there might be jumbled… but all of these events actually happened. Not too long ago, in fact.

Wedding OOTD

Your early 20s are weird, aren’t they? Some of your friends are settling down and starting families while some can’t even keep a houseplant alive, let alone a relationship or a baby. I admit that I fall into the latter category – but last weekend, I had the pleasure of watching one of my infinitely-more-responsible high school besties getting married, and I may or may not have shed a tear or two. (Or maybe even a few hundred.)

Dress - £31.50 • Jacket - £17.99 • Shoes - sold out • Clutch - sold out • Fascinator - sold out

When You Can't Just Put on a Happy Face

Like pretty much everybody else on planet Earth (a rough estimate), I recently went to see Joker in the cinema, and came away with a million different thoughts and feelings. The film focuses almost entirely on the Joker’s battle with mental illness and, as someone who has also struggled with their mental health, it hit me like a punch to the gut. One of the lines that resonated with me most was something that the Joker wrote in his journal: “The worst part of having a mental illness is people expect you to behave as if you don’t.”

Fall Seven Times, Stand Up Eight

   
The cliché is true. When you’re depressed, all you can see is darkness. My first ever counsellor described this as the “Depression Veil”. The Depression Veil blocks out the sun, and stops you from seeing that all-important "light at the end of the tunnel". 

Slowly but surely though, in 2012, I started to peel the veil back from my face.

First, there was just a little bit of light – but you'd be amazed by what a difference a little bit can make. Just to see the light – to finally know that it was there… it gave me something to live for.

Mental Health & Getting Help

“Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.”
— Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

I look back at my first year of sixth form as the worst year of my (admittedly pretty-short-thus-far) life. However, it’s also the year that marked a turning point for me and my mental health. It was the year that I completely broke down – but this also began the process of putting myself back together again.

At school, I started skipping lessons when my anxiety or depression was particularly bad. Every hour sat in a classroom, feeling alone and broken and miserable, felt like torture – and sometimes, I just couldn’t bear it. But, unsurprisingly, I couldn’t get away with that forever.

In January 2012, a teacher confronted me about it. When asked why I’d been skipping classes, I just couldn’t hide it anymore. I completely broke down. 

The relief that I felt when that teacher told me that she understood, and that she’d been there too, was indescribable. She held my hand as I cried and promised me I was going to get better. 

I couldn’t even bring myself to nod back then, because I still didn’t believe that this was possible... But she was right. Things were going to get better.

Mental Health: Let's Talk About It

When I was 12 years old, I fell and sprained my foot. Immediately after, I told my parents what had happened and went straight to hospital to get it looked at. I was happy to accept help from the doctors, and didn’t hesitate to explain to others what was wrong. But, when it came to my broken mind, I couldn’t bring myself to do any of this.

When we’re physically hurt or ill, we have no issue letting other people know. But when our minds are ill, we feel pressured to cover it up.

Why?

Anxiety & Me

Depression was my toughest battle, but anxiety feels like my cruellest. It’s taken away from who I am as a person, and who I want to be. 

Anxiety makes me feel as if I’m drowning. I’ve been thrown in at the deep end, but I don’t know how to swim. I’m stuck behind a glass wall, watching everyone else enjoy life. I want to join in, but I can’t break through the glass. 

It’s like stage fright, but without the stage. As soon as I leave the house, it feels like the spotlight's on me. Everybody’s watching. Everybody’s judging. My heart starts pounding and my throat gets tighter. I want to run and hide.

Completing the most basic task can feel like running a marathon. One short minute can be filled with a thousand racing thoughts. My own mind has betrayed me – but I’m stuck with it. It feels like I’m in a constant battle between my ‘real’ self and my ‘ill’ self. I enjoy socialising; I like talking to people – that’s the real me. But the sick part of my brain doesn’t want to let that part live. Anxiety takes over me, and it stops me in my tracks. It affects how I think, how I act, and how I feel. 

And, if something takes away from the very person you are… you start to wonder what the hell you have left.

Depression & Me

“I didn’t want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep. And that’s really sad. It was almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare you’re so relieved. I woke up into a nightmare.” 

— Ned Vizzini, It’s Kind Of A Funny Story

  

For the whole week up until World Mental Health Day, I'm going to be blogging about different parts of my experience with mental illness, starting with depression. It’s a lot easier to write about now, because a lot of it feels so far behind me. But, when I first got diagnosed, I truly thought that everything was going to be that awful forever. 

I do think it’s worth covering the darker parts, though, because my past experience is some people’s current experience. And one of the hardest parts of being ill was the fear that nobody would understand and that everyone would judge me. But the more we talk about it, the more people will understand, and the less people will feel alone. 

Mental Illness & Me

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted about mental health (or anything, for that matter), but with World Mental Health Day coming up on the 10th of October, it felt like the perfect time to get stuck back in.

When it comes to my own mental health, I never really know where to start. Even though I’ve had plenty of years to reflect on it (and have been asked countless times by professionals), I still don’t think I can really put my finger on how it all began. It’s like when you find a bruise on your leg and you don’t know where you got it from, or when you get a headache but you don’t know the cause. Maybe you didn’t get enough sleep? Maybe you didn’t drink enough water? Maybe you stared at a computer screen too long? 

These are all just guesses, though. You can’t know for sure. 

It’s the same with my mental illness.