The strange side effect of talks about Mental Health

Today I went to the TEDxUniversityofKent talks. The topic of the day was Milestones, and I was prepared that there might be part of the talks which I found triggering or which I was sensitive too due to my ongoing problems with Mental Health, specifically Borderline Personality Disorder.  What I didn't expect was a talk about Mental Health. The stage was graced by Becci; a girl in her 20s, well dressed, with a perky demeanor. Her talk was entitled 'Words have superpowers: A map of milestones to healing mental illness', and was about her experiences as a woman who suffers from Anxiety and Depression, who has found solace and healing in poetry, and who is working as a teacher aiming to help younger generations. 

It was a wonderful talk about some really important topics, and I was struck, but not surprised, by my reaction. From the first sentence through to the last, I was crying. Sat on a theatre, tears rolled down my cheeks silently for the entire duration of the talk. I found it hard to keep my breathing under control, and I couldn't stop myself from shaking. I spend a lot of my time wishing mental health was talked about more regularly. Wishing I heard other people talk about it more, and wishing I had more platforms to talk about it myself. Yet the minute it is talked about, I am reduced to a blubbering mess! I was lucky enough to have one of my closest friends next to me, and without her hand to hold, there's a solid chance Id have had a silent panic attack. This isn't because I didn't like the talk, it is closer to the truth to say I liked it too much. I had someone stood in front of me and a theatre of people, verbalising the thing which has caused without a doubt the hardest experiences of my life. It has shaped the last decade, and I know it will continue to shape my life and those of the people closest to me. Yet she stood on stage and held some of my biggest demons in her hands in front of her. Her talk wasn't about me, yet in some senses it was, because when someone talks about mental illness that openly, to someone who suffers, it is like hearing your diagnosis being read on on repeat. It's like the darkest most painful parts of your life being held by someone else. They weren't being hurt by someone else, just held; bringing my attention to all the pain and suffering that they have in the last brought, and continue to bring me.

This makes me think about talking about mental health issues. For me, I'm taking small steps and im writing this blog. It may not be the biggest or the bravest step, but it's a chance for me to say "look, i'm fighting something very hard and very painful every day of my life, let me try and help others learn from me, and let me reach out and remind you that you really aren't alone in this". And for me it's making a difference, because it takes away some of my shame, and it takes away the common problem of Mental Health as something to be hidden away. 

Today made it abundantly clear to me that people really don't vocalise their battles with Mental Health enough. I look for people who speak up, yet I was still affected that strongly because hearing those words was still a shock to my system. Today made me wish that people made me cry like that more often. Speak up, don't be ashamed, because you're brave, and I'm here ready to sob in the back of more theatres, or at more articles, or more videos online. And who knows, perhaps one day I'll have that affect on someone in return. 

Unicorn Socks to save the day (and other Gift Giving love)

I hadn’t had the best week this week. I am not going to go into details, but I feel its important to mention that it’d been a struggle, and it’s only a Thursday.
Today I got two parcels, sandwiching a Dr's appointment (and those are never fun!) which turned my day around. I am a member of an online community of people who like Black Milk Clothing. Its more than a community, and less strange than a cult, but is perhaps somewhere in between! We call ourselves Sharkies. As a part of this I am in a group where we Sharkies send each other random gifts, to try and brighten people’s days randomly. It has always been an incredible page to be a part of, and people’s generosity and thoughtfulness never fails to amaze me. This was exemplified today by a particular Sharkie, the sender of today’s parcels, inside which was the array of wonderful things pictured below.

Now, I am writing this post for two reasons. Firstly as a means of thanks, to this sender but also to anyone who has sent a gift on this page, to me or to anyone else! To take time out of your busy (or not busy, either way) life, and to spend both your money and your thoughts on another person, not because you feel you need too or to repay something, but just because you genuinely want too, is a wonderful thing to do. Thank you on behalf of all of us! I know I am one of many people who is incredibly grateful. One of the people for whom the random gift appeared at a time, so unexpectedly, when we needed a pick-me-up more than we even knew.

I am also writing this post as a reminder of how much your life can change in a short space of time. This week there were times that I really wasn’t sure if I’d get to the end of it; I was told something which made me have to re-evaluate my life, and for me that’s a pretty dangerous thing to do, and I wasn’t sure I could. I am still not sure about the re-evaluation, but I’m definitely working on it. What I am sure of is that I’ll make it far past this week. This gift has shown me that my little world is so much bigger than me and the decisions I am currently trying to make. My little world is actually part of a very big and very wonderful world! And this decision won’t be the end of me, because I am stronger than that, but also because I now have a pair of unicorn socks to help get me through.

Let’s be honest, unicorn socks and a large dose of hope is really what anyone needs to get through a rough patch!

Getting by with a little help from our friends

A key part of living with a mental health disorder is being supported. This can come from a variety of places; mental health professionals, counsellors, therapists, and importantly, friends and family. I am usually on the receiving end of the support from friends, but I have also been in the position of being the friend trying to give the support. This post is to the friends, for those who fight for us and only get repaid by keeping us as a friend. Its not your job, but you care enough to dedicate your time.

Firstly, thank you. Thank you for being selfless enough to help a friend who struggles with something you can’t physically see. Thank you for not giving up on them, thank you for believing in them and knowing that they are worth the help.
I understand that its hard; its tiring sometimes, when you have to give time that perhaps you don’t have. When you are trying everything to help them, and it just isn’t changing anything. When you have to watch the person you love go through a lot of pain and know that all you can do is tell them you’re there for them, and hope that they pull through. I even understand the pain of the times where you think you might be about to lose them, when you’re scared that this time they might not manage to pull through. You are amazing to stay there, taking that risk, and continuing to believe that somehow they will find a way, because you know they’re worth it.

If you’re at a loose end and don’t know how to help, it is important to remember that Mental Illness is often overwhelmingly lonely. This isn’t because friends aren’t doing enough, it’s just because the journey taken to recovery ultimately has to come from us, and when things go wrong, we are the first to know, and at that moment, we are likely to be alone. Asking for help can be lonely, and not being able to find the help is even more lonely. As the friend, you make this so much easier. It can be a random text just to remind them that you care or that you love them, it can be an impromptu meet up, or it can just be a conversation about something unrelated to the illness to help them feel like there is more to life. You have the power to be the ultimate distraction, and to provide a human safety net.

I also think it’s really important that in those times where perhaps you can’t help, or just don’t know how or what to do, that is okay as well. You’re allowed to do the wrong thing, and its okay if sometimes there’s nothing you can do. We know that you’re human and ultimately the responsibility relies in us and in the hands of mental health professionals.

I am lucky enough to have some absolutely incredible friends, and I have no idea how I am lucky enough to have them, but I also know that random texts and care that they give is sometimes the boost I need to keep fighting. Thank you from me, but also thank you to all the friends out there who make it possible for us to fight an illness which you can’t even see. 

Dealing with Fear

Fear is an emotion that different people feel on very different levels. You have phobias, anxiety induced fear, and of course those who think they are fearless. For some people, it would take a gun to their head to feel fear. For others it’s a fear of failure, perhaps at work or at home. For me, its everyday activities; I am very scared of opening doors, and no that isn’t a metaphor, I am genuinely very fearful of a door if I’ve never opened it before. Not knowing what’s on the other side scares me. I can feel it from the top of my head to the bottom of my toes, I shake, I can’t breathe properly. Fear.

Today I have been scared all day, because this Saturday I have a very scary and ominous event coming up. Something where a lot of eyes will be on me, scrutinising my every move, and I just have to do the best I can and hope it’s enough. Something I’ve learnt over the years, is that fear cannot be pushed down. Fear cannot be covered up, and fear will not let go. It demands to be felt, but if felt too much, it will just increase. As someone who has panic attacks very regularly, which terrifies me every time, I have learnt a few ways to handle my fear:

1.       Focus on something static. Find an object; notice all the little details on it. If its pillow; what is the fabric like? What colour/s is it? Does it look rough or smooth? Would you have designed it differently if you could? Do you even like this pillow? etc. The list could go on.

2.       Talk to someone you trust. I have some absolutely incredible friends; they help me keep my little world going round. If I tell one of them about a big fear I have, and they tell me that it’ll be okay, I trust them. I believe them. I give them the control of knowing, and I can feel the pressure dissipate slightly.

3.       Stand up to it. Don’t let fear bully you. You are strong, you are brave, you are here and you are fighting. Don’t let one emotion take that away from you. Take a deep breath, inhale your bravery, and exhale the fear. Because you are not going to be beaten by this, you deserve better.

This particular event is so scary that I need to do these things pretty much all day, and I know that once the event is over, I will be happy. I will also be proud because even though fear keeps coming back, I keep beating it, one day at a time. And I know that you will too. Fear is not something you should be ashamed of, because at the end of the day, it shows that you can still care.

LGBTQIA; sometimes talking about it hurts too much

Tonight I tried to write a post about how suicide and self-harm figures are far higher in LGBTQIA people. It meant me looking at lots of suicide statistics. I wanted to try and explain how it feels to be young and confused about your sexuality, about how it seeps into questioning all parts of your life. But I couldn’t write it; I got through the first line and I felt too sad. I knew that if I went through with writing it, it would put me in a bad place. I found this interesting, because I don’t usually connect my self-harm and suicide attempts to being a Lesbian, to me they were always separate. Looking back, I think perhaps I wasn’t totally right. One day I will write what I meant too, but for now, have a bit about my experience, without the suicide part.

I don’t remember the moment where I realised that I wasn’t straight. But I do remember that that was my thought. I didn’t wake up one day and think ‘Oh, I like girls, cool, I must be gay’. Instead, I tried to join in with conversations about fancying boys, but I had to lie. I presumed that one day I would fall for a boy just like they did, one day it would be my turn. But years went by and I didn’t. I thought perhaps I didn’t understand what it meant to love someone in that way, so I dated boys that I thought were good friends, whose company I enjoyed. But it was never more than that. I thought I was broken, because I didn’t have the right feelings, and I thought this meant I would just spend my life on my own. I was scared of that thought, and I was very alone in it.

When I first considered being bisexual, it wasn’t because I thought I was gay but didn’t accept it, it was because I thought that if the pool of people covered two genders, maybe I could meet someone and feel what my peers did. I continued to date boys because it’s what people did, but deep down I knew I was different. I didn’t know what that difference was, I even considered whether I might be asexual, because at this point I couldn’t recognise the difference between loving a friend, and falling in love with a friend. Now I can recognise this very easily, and lucky my type is so specific that it isn’t a problem, but when I was younger I didn’t understand that difference. It was just painful and felt a bit wrong. I felt like as a human, I was fundamentally broken.

I remember when I first told a friend that I might be bisexual. The minute I’d said it, I felt an extreme release of pressure. It was over MSN messenger, and seeing it in writing, I knew that it was real.  From there my journey was to be expected. I dated some more guys, I dated some girls, I had bad and good experiences, and eventually I found myself in a loving relationship with a female, finally able to fall in love like everyone else did. But sadly for me that journey was littered with self-harm, eating issues, and suicide attempts.

I do not believe my problems are rooted in my sexuality, but for any young person trying to make their way in the world, I can now recognise how lonely this can make us feel. How different I felt. How separate I felt. Mine is the story of a girl who had it easy with my sexuality – my friends and family accepted it – and its still a story of loneliness and a lot of misery. So I can see how the self-harm and suicide figures are higher. I just hope that in the future, it can be an open conversation, so that LGBTQIA young people in the future don’t have to feel like they are broken. We may always be different, but we should never feel like we were made wrong.

Allow yourself good days

The nature of my mental illness is that I get highs and lows. I don’t have control over when they happen. Sometimes they correspond to good and bad things happening in my life, and the reaction is severely magnified, but sometimes they just come out of nowhere. But occasionally, very occasionally, I have a good day, or a good few hours. This isn’t a day where I am manically happy for no reason, this is a day where for a few hours my moods don’t swing. On a good day I get to be myself, in the comfort that for these hours, I seem to have some kind of control.

Good days can scare me because when you end up being the way you want to be, but knowing it won’t last more than a day and could go at any moment, it’s hard. The fear of losing it often takes away some of the joy of finally feeling free, the joy of getting a break.

So today I’m thinking about how important it is to allow yourself those good days. Enjoy them as if it may go on forever, not focusing on the inevitable change in mood. One reason I am scared of these days is that I worry people will see me be that normal and decide I don’t need their help anymore. I am, sadly, very dependent on my friends. I am incredibly lucky to have some amazing friends, and I would be lost without them. Another reason I struggle to accept good days is that I am so desperate for it to stay that way that I manage to push myself into being depressed about how rarely I get to feel that freedom.

My advice, to myself and other people, is that we need to learn to allow ourselves these days. Whether there is a reason for it or not, you do deserve this break, and you deserve to believe that it may last forever. Mental illness is not easy to handle, but if you manage to have a good day, don’t be scared of it. Let it recharge your batteries so that when you next have a bad day, you know what it is that you’re fighting for.