It's Worth Sharing

A year ago today I posted a note on facebook sharing the link to this blog and letting the world see inside my head for the first time ever. It wasn't my first time writing - it was just my first time sharing that writing. I began a journey that terrified me, with no intention of keeping it up, no expectations of where it would go, just strongly feeling that I needed to share where I was at and some of the experiences I've had - starting with my attempted suicide in November 2014.

It has been an amazing journey that has been a far more powerful experience than I ever thought it could be.

February 2016

Though I haven't posted on a schedule and I haven't kept track or even known a lot of the time if anyone (or who they are) is reading it, I know that my words have made a difference. In my own life, I feel free. I have put aside so many of my own fears and insecurities to open myself up like this - to share the darkest and scariest parts of my mind with anyone who is interested. I have used it as a tool, a coping strategy when I'm not doing well, and a place where I can share my accomplishments when I do succeed in mastering a strategy or simply getting through a difficult emotion. I also know I'm making a difference somewhere else. I'm being vocal and I'm speaking up. I'm not letting the stigma that is still so attached to mental health shut me down. I am saying that I have a mental illness and that is okay... I'm different, unique, and wired a little funky but that's alright because, well, who isn't?

So on this, my First Anniversary of Sharing, I would like to post a little update. Because this year has been tough; it has gone up, and down with stretches of level in between. I have had joy and laughter and excitement, and I have also experienced pain and panic and fear and sadness and desperation and loss of hope.

I have survived panic attacks, hypo-manic, and depressive episodes, and I let myself get help. I have adjusted medications and attended multiple types of counselling and therapy groups. I ha
ve spoken to doctors and pychiatrists, crisis workers and nurses, and friends and family. I have developed a tool box and I use it regularly - incorporating new skills almost every day. I have continued on and accepted this journey that I've been given, sometimes with determination and hope, and sometimes with a great deal of struggling and self pity. I have not just survived... I have lived while in recovery.

Today, right now, I am alive and well. I'm still struggling with sleeping regularly and getting the meds just right... but I've got hope and love and support. I'm developing a new routine and eating healthy to get me back to a level place and I work hard daily to stay grounded. I'm different than I was a year ago, two years ago, or more.

This is where I'm at right now. So on my First Anniversary of Sharing I want to encourage anyone else who struggles with Mental Health. You are not alone. It isn't always easy, but it is worth it. I have learned and grown so much within the last year and I know I will only continue to do so. Reach out. Find support. Love yourself no matter where you are at, and give your recovery journey a chance. It is worth it. Your life is worth it.

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The Guilty Battle

Niagara Falls, Ontario - there are indoor water-parks, wax museums, gift shops, the waterfalls and tons of other tourist-y things to do with the family. It's kid friendly and I know from past visits that my husband and children would have enjoyed the weekend that I just spent there... alone, with my cousin; and yet, I didn't take them with me.

It wasn't that I couldn't... but then again... it was. You see, the trip itself was a joint idea between my cousin and myself. I contacted her last week about getting down to see her for a few days because I needed some recovery time. She suggested we do Niagara Falls for a night away and I readily agreed because I needed to get out of town for a couple of days alone. 

Alone. With my thoughts. With a friend. With time to let myself get to a better place. It was exactly what I needed; it's just that my dear old friend guilt also wanted to tag along. 

Guilt. It's a natural part of life and with all of the other emotions that I deal with, I find it can often times sneak right in undetected until it rears its ugly head, letting you know that yes, you should feel bad about abandoning your children and husband for an alone/girls weekend, after only just coming out of the hospital. It is the force behind the thoughts that say that what you are doing isn't enough, your efforts to put yourself in a good place are taking up too much of your time and energy, that says you should just be better by now. It's the voice that tells you to suck it up because there are millions of people in the world who have things worse than you. It's the whisper that speaks and says that if you were a true Christian, you would never feel alone, and you would beat this mental illness once and for all.

Guilt. It's an incredibly strong and loud voice that can take hold of your emotions and send them spinning again without warning, refusing to listen to the logic that you know is buried inside your mind.

I'm refusing to let guilt in though... I won't let it win. 

I went away this past weekend and I enjoyed myself. I talked and listened, I laughed and walked, I thought and I prayed, I slept and I swam.... and every time guilt reared it's ugly head I told it to take a hike because I was doing exactly what I needed to do at the moment. I refused to let guilt in and make itself comfortable. I refused to play it's game and allow it to entertain my mind with all of the shoulds and coulds and maybes that it likes to throw around and taunt me with, that tell me that I could be better than what I am.

And now, now I'm at home. I'm exactly where I am in my recovery journey and I don't feel guilty about taking time to myself. I'm refreshed and recharged and ready for the next battle, the next steps that I am going to take, and the next things I'm going to learn. I'm ready to fight again, to show guilt and anger and depression and mania who I am inside... I'm ready to show them hope, and love, and steadiness, and perseverance because I refused to let guilt in; because I took care of myself. It wasn't easy, but the battle was won this time - one day at a time. 

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Different, Isolated, Unique

Glancing around the room I felt a little lost. My house hasn’t changed – my things are all pretty much where I’ve left them, but it feels different. I feel different.

I was in the hospital for a week this time. Unfortunately as much as I tried to avoid it, and as much as I used every method and every skill I knew to keep myself level, depression still managed to sneak in. I wasn’t in a good place and while I didn’t want to go (and even fought it); in the end I forced myself to give in and let myself be taken in as I began to reach the crisis point.

Coloring I Did While in the Psych Ward

Two days in lockdown (Psychiatric Intensive Care Unit) for assessment and then 5 days in the open unit for medication adjustment, sleep patterns, and re-stabilising. It wasn’t the longest stay I’ve ever had. There was nothing spectacular about my stay. I’ve come out and while I’m still not to one-hundred percent, I’m still much better than I was when I went in. However it doesn’t mean that things feel the same as they did before. I feel different and isolated. It’s a kind of feeling I can’t explain very well to someone who hasn’t been there and experienced it.  It’s the feeling of going from the isolation of a psychiatric unit to regaining your freedom and independence.  It’s the feeling that for you, while you were recovering from an invisible but terrifying illness, the world stopped – and yet it didn’t. It’s the feeling that you are different from the rest of the world, that you can understand once again what makes you act oddly… sometimes not making sense to yourself. It’s knowing that you have this thing, this unseen illness that you will always carry with you, that people may know about but assume is better simply because now you’re out of that uncomfortable unit in the hospital. It’s feeling like you aren’t a part of the same world as everyone else because you feel, react to, and experience life uniquely.

The thing about all of that above though, is that it isn’t necessary. I don’t have to feel that way. I am unique… but so are you. Everyone has a story and just because mine involves the way that my brain works, it doesn’t make me abnormal. It doesn’t make me any less important or worthy or strong than anyone else. I can let it feel different. I can choose to isolate myself because of what I go through on a daily basis, the exhaustion that it causes to deal with my illness at times, and the fact that the stigma surrounding it all is still so huge; or I can be brave. I can embrace my differences and while I am learning to deal with it and recover, I can talk about it. I can write about it and stop hiding it. I can live without shame, or guilt, or embarrassment and I can be who I am without feeling the need to be accepted.

So right now I’m home. But last week I wasn’t. I was in the hospital. And this week, I’m taking care of myself – I’m still adjusting to the change in medications and I’m getting my routine back in check, making sure that I maintain my diet and exercise patterns and overall just take care of myself. I will not be ashamed and I will not hide what has happened or the fact that I sometimes need a little help. I will help end the stigma against mental illness. I will maintain my hope, I will be honest – with my supporters and with myself, and I will continue my recovery journey with the support and encouragement of my friends and my family. I will maintain my hope.

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Thoughts From the Psych Ward

Humiliation. Shame. Failure. Fear. Anger. Self-loathing...

Stop.

I know how I want to feel right now... I know how I think I should feel. My mind says I'm a fraud and that I have taken 10 steps backwards after only a single shaky step forward.

How else do you explain the backslide into depression, the disturbed sleep cycles and routine turned to chaos, and the suicidal threats that landed me back in the Psych ward 3 days ago? It's the  same thoughts and the same stigma that tell me I'm a loser, I'll never  be normal, and I'm nobody... Just simply mentally ill.

But those thoughts only see what they want to see. They don't take into account the fact that I'm here because being here and alive is better than risking my safety and my heartbeat doing something stupid. It doesn't take into account the co-operation and the will to re-stabilise that I have had to find. It doesn't take into account the sheer exhaustion and the simple need to rest (with a little help to make it happen). It doesn't take into account the lifelong battle I've been involved in and the fact that even though I wanted to quit... I haven't. Part of me wanted to die... But I let help get to me, fighting an inner war the entire time.

So even though I'm currently sitting in a hospital room, waiting on doctors and sleep and new meds to level me out; I will not feel ashamed or embarrassed or unworthy. I will feel strength from those who love me, determination to win this battle, and hope for a better tomorrow... One day - one moment - at a time.

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Recovery Journey? What Does That Look Like?

My recovery journey.

I’ve talked a lot about my journey through recovering from Mental Illness, my growth and change as I have learned how to accept and live with the duel diagnosis (Bipolar Disorder (BD) and Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)), as well as living emotionally sensitive and suffering bouts of severe anxiety. It's something that I think about and mention regularly and that I have seen dozens of meme's floating around and talking about as well. But what does it mean to recover from mental illness? Does it mean that I will eventually live medication free, without the worry of setbacks and failure, with a normal range emotions that never go too haywire and the ability to handle anything that life throws at me gracefully and with an abundance of peace, joy and patience?

No. Definitely not. I mean, I guess it could happen... but I can't afford to look at it that way, to place all of my expectations on one immoveable goal. 

You see, when I started this journey, I really didn’t know what I was after myself… I didn’t know what it would mean or if recovery was even truly possible – the doctors that I spoke to sure didn’t believe it was a realistic goal.

However, the doctors and the other counselors and peers that I spoke to didn’t look at it in the same way that I do, they didn’t always see the same things that I did.

Because the way I see it, recovery isn’t always a cure, a fix or an immediate resolution.

Recovery for me has been about redefining who I always thought I was and who I really am. It’s about taking a hard look at myself and figuring out what parts of my life have been ruled by my illness, what parts were lousy situations, and what parts were truly just me. It was about seeing the parts of me that I didn’t want to see… seeing them and accepting them – the things I have done or said or believed in the past – and realising that I was at times, a mess… an oftentimes out-of-control crazy whirlwind of ups, downs and absolute chaos. It was a series of bitter pills that I had to swallow to realise that I had not always been the nicest person, the most level thinker, and sometimes just nasty. I destroyed friendships and family bonds. I was unpredictable and unable to find control. I was quite simply a storm that could hit at any time and move in any direction.

But the good news is; once I realised all of the horrible stuff about myself and accepted that I had made mistakes and that I had an illness that did control a lot of areas of my life for many years – I was also able to move forward. I was able to make the first positive decisions of my life, move myself in the direction that I wanted to head and embrace the rest of who I was. Because you see… all that bad stuff, it wasn’t the whole of me. There was so much good that always seemed hidden because of the unpredictability. I began to make lists in my journal when I found something positive about myself – I realised that I’m passionate… about life, about relationships and about hobbies. I give myself fully to any project I’m involved in and know that I will go above and beyond to do my very best. I love with all of my heart; my family, my friends… even those I have alienated in the past with my behavior, and some of those relationships have even been repairable even though I thought I had destroyed them. I’m creative. The times I am most at peace are when I’m crafting something or taking photographs, baking in the kitchen or writing a book. Most of all I realised (and eventually came to accept) that I am a good person. It was something that I believed for the longest time that wasn’t true… I thought I was a horrible person, flawed at the deepest level and unable to fit in and function normally within society. But as I peeled back the layers I realised that there is good in me, it just sometimes gets mixed up in the chaos that used to surround me.

Of course there are so many aspects to my recovery journey – self-discovery is the biggest aspect, but for me another huge aspect was learning to live a healthier life in general. I’ve read and researched and googled all different “health tips” and spoken to friends and family who have tried this or tried that to live healthier in one way or another. I’m still discovering my ideal healthy lifestyle, but I do know that the drastic changes I have been able to make (eating, exercising, routine (sleep), meditation, medication and therapy, and personal environmental awareness) have been amazing factors that have helped me both feel and look better, physically and mentally.

But again, as I said in my last post – while I am much better than a year ago, I know I will still struggle for some time. And that’s okay too. Right now I’m going through a particularly challenging time. There have been setbacks and I have spent time crying and experiencing a wide range of emotions, trying to assess myself to make sure that I’m still in a good place, making sure I can hold it all together. But while I know it’s a struggle and I know that there might be even tougher times in the near future… I also know that because of my journey and the things I have learned and changed within myself, I can handle it. Whether it’s through picking up extra counselling sessions or adding in another group, changing or adding new medications; whether it’s a few extra coffee dates with friends, taking a weekend away or simply spending time revisiting my old “cheat notes” every once in a while, I know that I am in a much better place to handle anything that might come my way. And really, that’s what recovery is to me. Being able to handle whatever comes up next (whether it’s alone, or with support) in a healthier way, and being able to understand and recognise what is happening and why.

This hasn't always been the easiest thing to recover from... and I haven't done it alone - sometimes it was too much for me to handle and I needed encouragement from all around, people to help me sort out the different areas of my life - to dig through and pull out the good, the bad, and the weird. I needed to talk things through and learn to be open and honest. I needed to learn entirely new ways to experience the emotions that I felt, and how to properly act (or stop myself from acting!) on them. I had to relearn self-control and self-soothing like a small child, and I often felt like everyone was trying to change the core of who I was. But it wasn't the core of me that I needed to change... I just needed a way to accept and process who I was, to figure out what my brain was acting on and trying to say when it was going haywire. It was therapy and guidance, communication and support, trial and error, journalling and writing, facing stigma and fighting with doctors, it has been love and experience that has helped me get to this place in my journey. 

It isn’t an easy process. It isn’t a cure. But it is one step towards my goal, one day at a time, one trigger or incident at a time. It is hopeful. That is what my journey is... finding my future, finding out what I need to become the best me possible and learning how to achieve that with the way that my brain and emotions function. Find out what your journey involves and take the first step. Reach out and ask for help. It is worth it!

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