“Cause I don’t feel like I’m getting through to you
Let me paint this clear, life is short, my dear”
Jenny – Nothing More
Welcome back my loves.
You might have noticed that of recent the personal blogs have been on a bit of a down low and it’s all been a very heavy focus on music. That’s because my mental health has been some what… borked.
I didn’t feel like I could write anything personal because I simply couldn’t feel. How can you write about something that means anything of importance to you, when you simply can’t even bring yourself to talk to the people you love.
I went for days not responding to people. I’d still post on Facebook and Insta to prove I was still alive but I didn’t feel capable of holding actual conversations with anyone. As I’m going to be truly honest here, there were points I was locked in my bathroom alone; debating if taking my own life / self harming was the only way to go. I’m happy to say I did neither. I battled with my own brain hard to win on that one.
I’m sure at this point, you’re all sick of my mental health updates. However, this is something I will continue to post about because it’s not a problem that disappears over a weekend. It’s something I have been battling for 14 years. It’s something I know others battle. I write about where I am now and what’s going on in the mine field that is my head because apparently my writing helps others to know they are not alone. I don’t do this for your sympathy, I do this because honestly, sometimes I find writing these things easier than actually talking to anyone.
There are some people who can draw the truth out of me, cornering me into honesty – but even then I hide away from them. I can never truly let someone in when I am at my worst. I make them think I’m in a better place than I actually am because I can’t let anyone know how weak and broken I actually feel.
I don’t know if you ever felt if everything about you have been dampened. Your light removed and thrown away like a piece of wrapping paper from a gift. It’s a hell of a feeling, being a shell of who you are. Disconnected and disjointed. As if nothing makes sense anymore. Nothing makes you want to get up and do.
It honestly feels like your soul has been sucked from you. Zombified, I walk around painting a fake smile on my face making it look like I fit. Like this is how I always am. Drop some sass, a selfie or three and no-one will know you’re crying every time you crawl into your bed. No-one will know that you spend your free time, curled up on your sofa watching some mind numbing show because that’s all your strong enough to do. No-one will know you haven’t brushed your hair in 6 days because you simply lack the energy to do so.
I guess weak is the word that best describes where I have been. I have been weak. Tired. Over it. Nothing was bringing any kind of sparkle or joy to me. I was beginning to become a little self destructive.
This is the point I knew I had to go back to the doctor. I have my appointment on the 11th May. I, for the first time in a long time, have realised I need help. I need some intervention before the pit becomes one I cannot crawl out of again. This episode has lasted a lot longer than others.
I’m sure you’re wondering why I am writing this piece now. Well, I feel strong today. I am in a much better place. I started my new job, which honestly I couldn’t be more in love with. I have a set of people in my life who support me daily and know my warning signs. They understand when I don’t respond because I am not in the place to do so; but they still reach out. They still check in. They send me messages of courage, of love and dog photos. They sit in silence with me, they hold my hand and they let me know I am going to be ok. They invite me round just to hang out because for some reason even when I’m feeling broken; they want me there.
To be quite honest, I will never understand why these people bother with me. This is not an oh my god, tell me why I am wonderful and great moment this is an, honestly, I don’t understand it moment. Of recent all I see when I look in a mirror is mess. Someone who puts the mask on every day. How someone else looks at me and seeing someone worth saving is a foreign concept to me. I don’t see someone worth saving.
These people have also come to understand that I will cancel plans, I’ll back away and shut down. Remove myself for days, even weeks at a time. However they still make an effort. I will always be grateful for these people. They know who they are. The people who give me 100% when I can offer nothing.
I guess the real reason I’m writing this piece is because I think I am finally done being in hiding. I’m done with hiding away and trying to conceal how bad it actually got. I’m seeking help. I’m talking to people. I’m also going to be doing more personal pieces here again, because who doesn’t miss me being opinionated on subjects I likely have no right being opinionated on.
I guess I’m going to end this piece here by saying if you’re struggling please talk to someone. I know it’s hard. I know at times it seems impossible. However when you feel strong enough, even for a second, talk to someone. There are people out there who care. I care; send me a message if you feel like you can. Hell, come round for a cuppa if you like. Just remember that you are loved. You are wonderful. You belong to be here.