Mental Health Awareness Week
Itās coming to the end of Mental Health Awareness week, and I feel like now is the right time to talk about my mental health, and my struggles with it. Talking about it is really tricky, but I know that itās important.
Iāve always beenĀ āa worrierā and as a child, I worried constantly. I donāt remember when it started, but I cried a lot, I was the kid that cried all the time. I was a Brownie, and all I remember of being a Brownie was crying or worrying. We went on Brownie pack holiday, I cried all week, we went to the zoo, I cried because I lost my mumās special pen, we went on an adventure day out, and I fell over and cried. One of our leaders was having a baby, and I remember being so worried that the baby would be born at our meeting. It felt relentless, I worried that my parents would break up, I worried that someone would snatch my brother, it was just permanent.
My family were and still are great about it. MumāsĀ āa worrierā too, but she never made a big deal out of it, or told me to shut up, she just accepted that it was part of me and that was ok.
The summer I left primary school it all got so much worse. Weād gone out for the day, to the seaside, and we came home and the main road in our village, the main road to my house, was closed, there were police everywhere. I remember being so scared of what was happening, my mum was trying to tell me that it was ok, we were all together, we were all safe.
When we finally got back to our house, it became evident that something had happened in our tiny cul-de-sac, everyone was out of their houses, talking, and my mumās hairdresser came across the road, and told us that our next door neighbour had been hit by a car a few hours previously.
I remember sitting in the garden, and hearing his 7 year old brother scream as he was told that he had died. That noise will stay with me forever.
I then became terrified of sirens, I couldnāt cope with that noise, and my heart would pound and Iād be convinced that someone else would die. Another child would die. It felt like my childhood had gone, my future was so uncertain, anyone could die at any time and I didnāt want it to be my brother. I didnāt want to be the one that screamed.
I used to follow him around when he went out to play, Iād be on my bike and watch over him and his friends and it took a long time to beĀ ānormalā and calm that anxious voice down.
Even now, I am so protective, I canāt sleep until everyone is in, I canāt.
My anxiety as an adult comes in waves. I can be fine for months, I can be happy and carefree and everything can be fine. And then it hits.
Last year was probably the worst itās ever been. I woke up on January 1st, and I just couldnāt cope. I had a huge panic attack in my then boyfriendās bathroom, and sobbed and sobbed and I just could not explain myself.
Two of my friends had suffered an awful bereavement in the December, and I desperately wanted to be there for them, but I couldnāt. I was a horrifically shit friend, I hate that, and I canāt talk about it even now because of how terribly guilty I feel.
That spell of anxiety lasted 6 months, which is probably the longest time as well. I completely and utterly retreated into myself. I used to sit in silence and not talk or do anything. I just sat there. It was like my body was there, but no-one was in. I couldnāt deal with noise, especially background noise, and every day I woke up feeling terrified of nothing in particular. I had that horrible dread feeling, just all the time.
Ultimately, things all came to a head, and I went to counselling, and talked through everything about my childhood and my adulthood, and got it all out. And she explained that my self esteem was so low that Iād stopped caring about myself, and she gave me some techniques to help with that. She also explained that she thought I had a condition called Hyperacusis, which means that I had a collapsed tolerance to noise. I am still working on that one, but it has got better.
I went to a few sessions, and talked it through, and then I was effectivelyĀ ādischargedā.
The next week, my mum fell ill and was diagnosed with cancer. And the bottom fell out of my world. Iām still not quite ready to talk about it, my mumās doing great, she had an operation and sheās in remission, and it was very early stages etc etc.
My mental health didnāt suffer as much as my physical health, I think because I had learnt new techniques with the counsellor, and also because it wasnāt about me, it was happening to my mum, my mental health was ok. I was the strong one when everyone else crumbled. I just got really sick. I had a cold/flu like thing for 6 weeks, it took so long to shake off.
The start of this year was so different. I am in a good place finally, good job, good friends, and my health is so much better. Iām eating better, Iāve lost nearly 2 1/2 stone, so my confidence is better, everything is going ok. I still wake up some days and feel like someone has shifted the rug under my feet, but I know that there are good days and bad days, and thatās ok.
Everyone has mental health, just like everyone has physical health. Some peopleās are better than others, and thatās ok.Ā
