It is that time of year when we begin to talk about our mental health, today is mental health awareness day and it seems like everyone either acknowledges it or they are aware of it. Some people do a bit of both but to be honest today is just not the only day that this should be talked about. We shouldn’t just have one day when we talk about mental health and then basically ignore it for the rest of the year. As much as it is hard to talk about we must and we need to, not just for ourselves but for others out there and for the next generation to come too. Having mental health is not something that we should be ashamed of but we should talk about it more and to be more accepting of it. Mental health is not something that we should hide, it is not something that we should talk about but instead we should be open and accepting of those people who struggle with it.
It wasn’t until I was about 20 years old in 2015 and when I came back from 6 months being abroad that I realised something was ‘wrong’ with me. I knew that I was different, I knew that I didn’t act the same as everyone else, I knew that I was ‘special’ and I didn’t understand why and I didn’t understand myself. When I was a child I knew I was different but I thought that was because of my childhood and things that I don’t want to do into but it wasn’t until I was older that I realised it was actually my mental health. I knew there was something that wasn’t quite right but I didn’t know what it was and I kept trying to fix it. I was put on some tablets to help but I wouldn’t take them because I thought I could ‘fix’ myself, It was suggested that I go to counselling but I didn’t feel that I needed it. I thought that it would get better over time when actually my body and my mental health was getting worse and worse. Without realising it I was becoming miserable, I stopped eating healthy, I stopped going out with friends, I stopped wanting to be around family, I didn’t want to go out and I thought it was everyone else that had something wrong with them.
It wasn’t until three years later in 2018 that I had had enough of everyone and everything around me. I tried to end my life, I tried to cut my wrist, it didn’t work; I tried to hang myself, it didn’t work; I tried to overdose multiple times, it didn’t work; I tried to throw myself in front of a bus, it didn’t work. I couldn’t understand that all the things that I had looked up to end my life with minimal pain wouldn’t work. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t able to end my life, I couldn’t understand why people wouldn’t help me to do so, I couldn’t understand why people were telling me to get help when all I wanted to do was to end my life. I didn’t understand that if I was such a problem that they wanted to help me and not to loose me, I didn’t know why I couldn’t just do into a deep hole and die. I was in a very dark place and didn’t really understand or know why, I was still being my bubbly outgoing self when I needed to be, I would attend church regularly and no one would think anything was wrong, I would head to work everyday and again no one would know anything was wrong. I thought that over time it would get better but it didn’t and in order for others to help me I needed to help myself.
It was towards the end of 2018 that I needed to take action otherwise I would not be able to live another day and I knew that it was not fair on other people to see me like this. It had got to the point in my life that I was no longer able to keep my mental health a secret. I needed help and I needed to do something about it. I went to the doctors and they prescribed me drugs and they didn’t really help so they sent me to a group counselling which helped but not fully. It was not until I got diagnosed with EUPD and PTSD that I fully began to understand myself and that I could finally tell people what was wrong with me and to give them a ‘label’ if they needed it. I remember at this time I really truly understood who my friends where, those people who walked away from me and wanted nothing to do with me to those people who would sit through the night and talk with me. I remember those people who would text me to make sure I was ok on a random day of the week. I remember those people who would step up and take me to appointments. I remember those people who never gave up on me even when I wanted to give up on myself. Thank you to all those people because if it wasn’t for you then I truly would not be alive today. Thank you God for keeping me safe and loved.
Keep a look out for Part 2 coming soon!
My Life in Blogs 