Giving up. We all do it now and again, it’s almost second nature when things get tough. However, can this occasionally be the flight instead of fight? Are we stunting our development and growth every time we give up? Admittedly, you can’t always achieve your goal, some things unfortunately just don’t work, BUT you cannot conclude this until every option has been exhausted and an open-minded approach has been taken. That’s the problem with mental illness, your mind can be shut off from possibilities. In the depths of my illnesses, I would be very black and white: I kill myself or suffer and never succeed, I don’t eat or everyone will hate me and I stay fat, I self harm or shut myself away and never leave the house; the list goes on. However, I could kill myself, running away from the opportunity of things getting better, leaving everyone behind in excruciating pain and die still suffering and hating myself. Alternatively, I could fight, ride through the shit but hold on to hope, utilise the help around me, attempt every option I have for things to get better, attend therapy with an open mind, not a mind-set of “I’m going to kill myself and you’re not going to change that”. Now I know that it’s not that simple, it’s like depression or whatever your illness is blinds you from those ideas and you lose hope, but having someone near you constantly reminding you of these possibilities, someone almost forcing you to acknowledge that there are other options, you may not take it on board at first but perseverance is your friend.
Now, I’m a very stubborn person, anyone that knows me will agree. When the idea of not eating, purging, killing myself, self harming etc came into my mind it was like it was embedded there. I’m hoping the rest of this post gives you hope that no matter how hopeless you feel, how shit things are, you can go on, it will get better.
Life is filled with surprises and let-downs. I remember being about 8/9 years old and watching ‘Dana, The 8-Year-Old Anorexic’. I remember watching about these girls that didn’t eat, that had this constant conflict with themselves and were so ritualised, were so, controlling of their lives and were locked away in Rhodes Farm, an eating disorders unit. I saw how much they struggled at the table, how they cried when their calories were changed or they were weighed, just how much of a struggle it was in their minds and I remember saying to my mum “I don’t get how people live like that”. 2 or 3 years later I found myself in that very unit. I wasn’t triggered by that documentary, it was pure coincidence. I never thought I would develop an eating disorder, it’s like you never think that you’ll discover that you have cancer, however I did. I was in complete denial that I was ill, it was just a diet, I didn’t notice how much weight I had lost, how little I was eating, I didn’t recognise any of my rituals or restrictions, it felt normal. People were looking at me like ‘how can she live like that’, exactly what I asked 2/3 years ago. I remember my first week; I had never been away from home, I was 11 and I was terrified. I was doing things against my will, like eating and not allowed to exercise. I remember my first visit, I was only allowed 4 hours and I was crying to my mum begging her to take me home, and I got so distressed that the visit got cut short. I had to be sedated I got in such a state. However, I got through that admission. I held on to the hope that I would some day get discharged, I started to get to know the staff and the other patients and made some long-term friendships. Between this admission in 2010 and 2013 I struggled a lot but was living. Unfortunately I got very ill again with my anorexia and then developed bulimia. This has made things complicated because there is even more of a conflict between my illnesses not only with me and my illnesses but between illnesses. My depression worsened more and more until I attempted my first overdose. I was also in a very unhealthy cycle of exercise, restriction and over working myself in every aspect. My anxiety was so bad I didn’t attend high school apart from for exams and I was spiralling. Paramedics would visit my house frequently because I was getting so distressed and I was very scared. I wanted to be dead on the spot and I had completely lost hope. This is when I got admitted to the Phoenix centre. Another thing I never thought I would experience was hearing voices and seeing things. These began to develop not long before my admission and they scared me a large amount. I was scared of myself, scared of my illnesses, of the voices and I didn’t want to go in. I didn’t have leave for about 5/6 months and my self harm escalated drastically and an admission to a general ward was considered. I’m not going to lie, my 7/8 month admission here was the most unhelpful admission of my life. I would hysterically cry the majority of the time and I was very lost, even staff didn’t know how to help, but then again I’m not really sure they knew how to approach recovery the right way for anyone. I would say this was the lowest point of my life, it was at that time. I got discharged after a new consultant started and ended up in a general psychiatric unit 2 weeks after, after not eating and becoming very ill. I hated it, it was the hardest week I’d experienced, another admission away from home after a 7 month one, I didn’t want to go through it again. It gave me hope, things got so bad I wanted to get better and I discharged myself with the promise that it would work at home. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t advise self discharge, but for me, this was the right move. I had hope after a very dark time. That’s something I want to get across, it can be the hardest of times that eventually spark your recovery; “rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life”.
I cooperated with my CAMHS team and tried to utilise my help. I got a job, I was functioning in the community for the first time in over a year.
Relapses happen. That’s okay. They don’t always happen but they can, and the worst thing you can do is beat yourself up about it. My self harm was the worst it had been in my whole life, I was often receiving treatment for overdoses and wounds and I was soon admitted to 5 Airey. This is where I hit rock bottom. I was in my room hitting my head and attempting to end my life in every possible way. I landed myself on a section 2 and was about to be put on a section 3 and transferred to another unit because they couldn’t handle my eating disorder. I had lost all hope….nearly. When the reality set in after I was sent to General hospital for treatment, I realised that this wasn’t the life I wanted. I saw the concern on everyone’s faces, my mum even said she genuinely thought she’d lost me, and I was scared. I was seeing shadows and faces threatening to hurt those around me, I had voices screaming at me and a dark cloud over my head constantly and it was like I was being pushed into the ground. I wanted to change that. I think this is where the ‘fight’ instead of flight settled in. I didn’t want a further 6 months locked away, I want to be a doctor, I want to go to college, I want to function. I was sure that I wasn’t going to see 18 and because of my stubborn personality that was almost definite. I can’t emphasise how much of a change this was to me. To some of you this might just seem like a light bulb moment. I spent the past 6 years hating myself for not having the light bulb moment in recovery. It doesn’t happen like that. I still feel like I want to die, I still hate my body, I still struggle every time I see a packet of paracetamol lying around. The thing is, is that I realised. I had everyone around me unable to see me without getting upset or lecturing me to change my ways. I felt my emotions, I was terrified and I didn’t want to be terrified any more. I realised I had to work for things to get easier, it wasn’t as black and white as your life either being shit or smooth running. Things can change. People always complain when they’re criticized for changing their opinion and that’s because you have a right to change your opinion. In my opinion I was going to be dead by now, that changed. It wasn’t easy, waking up on my 18th my first reaction was to cry, but also to be filled with pride. I didn’t give up, if I gave up, I’d be in a unit halfway across the country still on a section and I wouldn’t be receiving the education I have now, meeting amazing people, having an amazing job and actually smiling. I wouldn’t be working towards the future I want. Giving up isn’t an option until every one has been exhausted. Don’t give up.
izzy806
prguitarman
dailybridgerton
jacobvanloon
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