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Some memories are not better left untold

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This is probably one of the hardest posts I could write because it deals with memories I've kept hidden for a long time. However, I feel it is important that I address these memories because there are many women in the same position who may find solace in my story. The #metoo movement saw many women come out and tell their stories, and I was both saddened and proud. Saddened that these stories are still being told in our time, but proud that so many women could discuss them so openly with the world. I never shared my story because I was too afraid. Afraid of being judged. I now realise that keeping them hidden only supports the perpetrator, so I'm breaking the silence today. I have unfortunately been the victim of sexual assault and rape numerous times. When I asked my psychologist about this he told me that it wasn't my fault, rather it was due to a set of circumstances that dictate why people are re-traumatised. One of these circumstances is they may turn to alco...
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The power of gratitude

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While in hospital I was reintroduced to the idea of gratitude. It was a term I had heard before, but I'd never really adopted. I don't know why because I have so much to be grateful for; we all do, and when you have anxiety or depression, it is especially important to remember what you are grateful for, otherwise, we get lost in the endless negativity that is our minds. Lisa Firestone from Psychology Today  argues that gratitude is possibly the most important element to finding success and happiness in the modern day. As she says "Knowing what we appreciate in life means knowing who we are, what matters to us and what makes each day worthwhile. Paying attention to what we feel grateful for puts us in a positive frame of mind. It connects us to the world around us and to ourselves".  In fact, research shows that being grateful is a universally rewarding method to feel more content and fulfilled. Scientific studies have shown that gratitude can create increased...
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Big girls cry when their hearts are breaking

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The last month or so has seen me have the worst relapse I've had since I was a teenager (and some of those years were bad!). I hesitated to write this post because I am so ashamed and embarrassed at what has happened the past few weeks, I wasn't sure sharing it was the best idea. However, I think it's important to share my experiences to show other people who are going through similar things that they need to speak out to get the best help possible. Two weeks ago now following a month of major depression, I had a massive psychotic break. I was drinking at home with Will and I decided after two bottles of wine that I needed more, so I started having tequila shots. I knew I'd had enough and should stop, but I was on such a high I felt like I needed to continue it. Will tried to stop me and I got angry. My daughter Ivy overheard and came into our bedroom. By all accounts, I put her back to bed before I bolted out the door on a -3 degree night in nothing but my negligee. ...
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Back to the beginning

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So after 12 months of wellness, I've ended up back where I was at the beginning, in hospital. It's not where I wanted to be, but I realise it is where I need to be. Two days ago I stepped onto the road. My emotional pain became so great that I was willing to risk my life to end it. If it wasn't for my mum grabbing the neck of my cardigan to pull me back onto the curb I could be dead now, and I certainly don't want to die. People might read this and think 'why would you step into traffic if you don't want to die?'. The thing is when your emotional pain is so great, the idea that you can replace it with physical pain is sometimes too enticing. In that moment of intense emotional anguish, physical pain, even death, doesn't seem so scary. When reflecting later on what I had done, it seemed as if someone else had taken over my body. It wasn't me at that moment. The girl who stepped onto the road had forgotten how important she was. That she was ...
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From inside the cuckoos' nest

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The blog below was written while I was in the hospital. I was admitted to a psychiatric ward following a severe relapse, where I had convinced myself  that the best thing for everyone was for me to take my own life. I entertained the fantasy of ending the pain and not surprisingly it ended in a hospital stay. Thankfully, I am now in a much better place and I hope that this is a distant memory. Before hospital, I felt exactly as my little Ava did ... trapped!  I never thought I would have to spend time in a psychiatric institution. That's actually a lie. I knew that the likelihood of me ending up in a psych ward was fairly high, given my diagnosis. So here I am and I have to say, that my time here has proven to me that we should never judge a book by its cover.  When you think of psychiatric wards you think of women wailing, people running down the halls naked, and men who talk to themselves. So far, I can tick two out of three things off that list. Thankfully...
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When you ignore the alarm bells

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An actual photo of me in hospital These past two weeks I haven't been coping. In fact, I write this post from a hospital bed. I've been pumped full of drugs and have only just woken up after a 12 hour sleep. Thankfully I'm not seeing purple elephants or recieving directions from the devil (I promise this has never happened before), but I feel like I'm back to square one and it's a horrible feeling. The unpredictable nature of mental illness makes it so difficult to live with. For me, it's always under the surface, but I can cope, with meditation, mindfullness, yoga, and healthy eating. I'm sure many of you know the self-care drill. These things help immensely, until they don't anymore, and the fake face you had painted on peels off for the world to see. Putting on a face for the world has become all too familiar for me When my old foe comes to haunt me again, things go south fairly quickly. Life continues at its usual crazy pace, b...
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Born a worrier

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So, in my last post I spoke about my recent diagnosis and the difficulties having an invisible illness can cause in someone's life. Today, I want to talk about another type of invisible suffering. That is anxiety and mental illness.   To me, anxiety has been the basis for much suffering in my life. Like chronic fatigue and fibromyalgia, I don't remember a time when I wasn't anxious. Sometimes, I feel as if I was born hyperventilating ... The most ridiculous thing about this? I'm one of the most bubbly, outgoing and sociable people you'll meet. In my 29 years, I've tried and achieved many things that I don't think most people would even consider.  Some of these things are experiences I couldn't put on my resume but are still as equally important in my life. Working as an exotic dancer at a gentleman's bar was one of these experiences. While not my proudest moment, it was during my time there that I learned so much about myself and human natu...
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