Being so strong for too long....

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.