This week is mental health awareness
week. A cause that is close to my heart.
I have friends who suffer from
bi-polar disorder, one with disassociation disorder, numerous friends who have
become parents who have struggled with post-natal depression, and then there's
me. I too have struggled with mental health problems.
When it is you going through these
problems, it feels like you are the only one in the world. This feeling isn't
helped by people's perception of mental illness and the taboo nature that
encompasses it. People who suffer from mental illness are "mental",
"crazy", "tapped in the head" and of course they are
"weak-minded".
Some doctor's don't like to diagnose
mental health problems, or even believe they exist. Well for a start, it's
difficult to see, the patient’s head hasn't fallen off, and they can't see
inside their head and see their inner thoughts. So of course people who suffer
from these problems are making it up... attention seeking.
After my second formal diagnosis of
clinical depression I was told at a review by one doctor "we all have bad
days, we get on with it and don't sit about moaning about it". Charming!
This is exactly what you want to hear from a professional, when you are asking
for their help. Luckily, I do not pay any attention to this woman. One friend's
mum had gone to her asking for a breast reduction because her spine was
crumbling due to the weight and was told "I have large breasts, you don't
see me running off for cosmetic surgery". I don't recall said friend's mum
asking if the doctor wanted the surgery....
Research suggests that 1 in 3 of us
will suffer from mental health problems at some point in our lives. This means
that in some way we may all be affected from mental health issues, whether it
is us ourselves going through it or loved one going through it while we sit and
feel helpless.
Research also suggests that those with
above average intelligence are more prone to mental health issues than those of
below average intelligence. I must be a genius then....
From the age of 7 to my early teenage
years I struggled with anorexia. I still have some food issues, like I can’t
deal with some textures, such as egg white, mushrooms and things with mixed
textures such as peas mixed with mashed potatoes; I have to eat food in certain
orders (such as veg first, then carbs then protein); some foods are off my list
on principle, like butter, lard, most meats; and if I’m harassed to eat
something, I won’t eat at all. However, this didn’t prove to be my biggest
problem.
At 19 I was first diagnosed with clinical
depression. I was constantly in tears, which is unusual for me, as I don't cry.
I'm too strong for things like that!! All I really wanted to do was sleep, I
had no energy for anything. I was sleeping for 16 hours solid a day, only awake
long enough to go to uni before I would crash out again. Typical student then,
yeah?
I was put on some lovely
anti-depressants to help level me out. Instead things went quite dark for me. I
was emotionless. I couldn't cry, even at the death of the closest person to me.
I couldn't laugh in my reasonably new relationship. I couldn't feel happy at
romantic gestures, or have an opinion on anything. I felt nothing about
anything. I took myself off the anti-depressants and as the effects wore off
over time, I gained my opinion back and my sense of reasoning. Instead of going
back to the doctors I went for hypnotherapy. This was brilliant for me. I
gained some control over my emotions again, however the blow of miscarrying
bought it all back for me. With the support of my partner, some herbal and
holistic remedies and a close network of friends I learnt to control my
depression better.
In 2009 I started suffering panic
attacks at exactly 2:30am EVERY morning. I would wake up with tightness across
my chest, heart feeling like it was going to explode, breathing so hard trying
to catch my breath that wouldn’t come. These would last around 5 minutes until
I managed to calm myself back down in the spare bedroom as not to wake my
partner. These continued every night for around 8 months. It would take me
hours to drop back off to sleep and I had to be up at 7am to go to work. I was
constantly exhausted. But finally at the end of September 2009 they stopped
after a huge blow and a mental breakdown.
I was at a close friend’s house who
was suffering from physical difficulties and I had gone round to clean her
kitchen for her when I received a text from the partner saying “I’ve left you
Kym, I’ve taken the stuff. All the best.” He then turned off his phone so I
couldn’t contact him. 11 words to end a 4 year relationship. It had come
completely out of the blue. That morning when I left the flat, he kissed me,
told me he loved me and to text when I wanted to be picked up. No arguments, no
degrading of the relationship, everything was normal. Then two hours after
leaving I received that message. I continued scrubbing the oven.
The friend went and picked the kids up
early from school and booked a taxi to take us back to the flat. He had packed
up my life in less than two hours and had left his key in the letter box. He
had taken not only his things, but items that had been left to me by family
members, items from my childhood, the things I had worked hard for. He had taken
a lot of random things like pieces of my clothes, the wooden monopoly board,
dvds, recipe books (despite he had only cooked one meal in the 4 years we had
been together) and even my bubble bath. I didn’t cry, I didn’t scream, I didn’t
get angry… or anything.
That night I stayed at my parent’s
house. I was lying on the floor in the living room and kept looking at my phone,
as on the screen was a score of how strong I was. It was a huge comfort to me
as I wasn’t in my own house, or my own bed or have my little comforts around me.
At 2:14am it hit me like a sledge
hammer to my face. How stupid was I? I was so exhausted from months of lack of
sleep and the stress of the day I had lost my grasp of reality. The numbers on
my phone weren’t a score of how strong I was…. It was the time. That was the
moment my entire life crashed around my feet.
I had lost everything. I started to panic like never before. Tears were
streaming down my face, I could barely breathe and my heart was beat so fast I
thought it would give out. That night, I wanted to die. I couldn’t see how I
was going to come through this panic attack and just wanted it all to stop. I
didn’t want any of this anymore. I didn’t want to have to start my life all
over again.
I crept upstairs into the bathroom and
climbed into the shower, as I find the sensation of being in the shower
soothing. But how selfish was I being? My mum had to be up at 6am to go to work
and I was risking waking her by coming upstairs. She had spent her life working so hard to
support us and this is the gratitude I was showing her. I was being selfish and
inconsiderate. This thought made the anxiety worse.
At around 5:30 am I climbed back out
of the shower, tears still streaming down my face. I got dried and dressed,
then held my breath as I crept back down to the living room. By the time my mum
had got up, ready for work and had entered the living room I was sat on the
sofa, rocking, still trying to breathe, tears pouring silently down my face. My
mum just hugged me, told me everything would be OK and she thought I was trying
to be too strong for my own good. You will never understand how much I needed
this. You see, mental illness doesn’t happen because you are weak, it is caused
by being so strong for too long. That was my last panic attack.
The following day I spoke to a friend
on the phone who had heard my relationship had ended, and wanted to check I was
OK. When I told her what had happened and some of the random things he had
taken (namely the bubble bath), she laughed! I don’t know why I reacted the way
I did that day, as usually if someone laughs at my downfall I would rant and
rave, and quite possibly punch them in the face. But I laughed too. It felt so
good. Like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.
This was the beginning of an amazing
few months. I was finally single for the first time in years, I was surrounded
with great friends and could do what I wanted, and not have anyone to answer
to. I made some mistakes along the way, but they were mine to make. I’m now
coming to the end of a long process of discovering who I am, and not who other
people have moulded me to become. I’m rediscovering all the things that make me
happy, that make me “me”. I finally realise what is important to me, and who is
important to me.
