Writing prompt -Scars
One scar I have is huge – it almost wraps all the way around my upper wrist -it is 2-3 cm wide. Indented, It reminds me of a dried upriver.
Before I continue…
Domestic abuse & Toxic relationships
Rape -NO means NO.
I’m going to state the obvious here.
Domestic violence is a relationship fucks about with your mental health, whether you love the person or not.
Toxic relationships have usually tipped me over into using shitty coping mechanisms like drinking too much, taking drugs, overdosing and not managing my medication or my eating disorder and Bipolar.
So back to the blood river scar.
One night- no
Another night of heavy drinking and arguing, I found me in a house -not mine- that looked like a slaughterhouse. all dirty browns. There was a rusty scent of blood impossible to ignore.
Every time I inhaled, the scent would drip down the back of my throat like a tap -I could taste it too.
I had mixed copious amounts of alcohol with my medication and all I remember is trying to push my ex away with my left hand ( I am left-handed), he grabbed my arm and I struggled back.
a massive shard of re-enforced window glass- barbered- poking out of my right arm.
the back of my exes legs and back running up the stairs.
WHERE IS THE ORANGE JUICE?
WHERE IS THE GLASS?
WHERE IS MY EX?
An arm coated thick with blood. I wear it like an accessory
Blood makes noise.
I hear screaming.
Ex reappears and tries to grab me.
I try to run away.
I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE.
Why is my ex naked?
In the middle of the street?
Rolling on the floor with me- trying to muffle my screams with his hand. Trying to stop me from running away...
MIND FUCKERY at its best.
“Look what you have done…” ex says.
6 hours later – location: hospital.
The doctor asks to speak with me in private. My ex doesn’t want to leave my side.
I don’t say anything. quack quack! quack quack! quack quack! the word on a loop…
“What happened?” he wants to know.
“We don’t know. We were drinking. I can’t remember. It was an accident.” my ex speaks for us.
My head bows down,it almost appears as if I am nodding. I can’t quite remember.
What I do remember feels like I have made it up, it is so detached from my mind and emotions. It is about as close to me as Pluto or Saturn.
3 days in hospital my ex never left my side.
Not even to go home to wash or brush his teeth.
I wasn’t alone- my mother was with us too.
I was high on morphine for the pain.
Why didn’t they operate sooner?
Did they want to monitor me?
three days later… I’m being wheeled on the hospital bed- away from the stale, coughing ward…
“countback with me from 10,” says the anaesthetist.
“ 10 , 9 ,8 ……“
“1”. my eyes burst open. I gasp a breath. It is like I’ve been living in a homemade sac filled with half shallow water and half air.
I look down at the artwork the surgeon has done.
No more blood.
re-stuffed re-patched, recovered,
by a micro surgical hand.
Back to the carnival freak show.
I enter his home – a massacre.
Dry blood everywhere.
If only it could serve as a reminder of what actually happened that night.
“I don’t remember” the ex says.
How can he and I not know?
Every time I look at my scar I am reminded of the chaos that was my life for 4 years.
This scar says –
This scar reminds me to NEVER be silent in the name of so-called love or a sense of loyalty to one who claimed to love me so much he would do anything to keep me.
When I left him, I did not take his threats seriously.
What he did next gave serious competition with the scar I see.
That everyone can see.
Toxic relationships result in a severe loss – sometimes that means your life.
Think carefully about what and who your life may include.
I was reborn again on the 06/05/2015.
The day the court ordered social services out of my life.
The day that my ex turned his back on me, is the day I realised I had been holding my breath for years.
I had forgotten how to breathe. I might have been dead- a wanderer.
06/05/2015 -I remembered not only how to breathe again but why.
Life -not just my own but that who is of me.
Life is precious
Life is my responsibility
*REPOSTED THIS-I had only been blogging for a couple of months when I published this. (19/09/2015)
WOAH! Okay. So not only am I co-facilitating an Anti-stigma mental health workshop in October but I have agreed to stand up-publicly-not behind the comfy boundary of my room and blog. I have been asked to speak about my own issues related to mental health and any discrimination I may have felt. I expected to have thousands of examples on this topic.
I couldn’t stop asking myself the question throughout my day to day activities today. I actually had to lie down (so dramatic) for an hour. I decided I have felt it happen to me. When I have thoughts fired at me by myself and I can’t get anything constructive done in my day to day life, I usually exercise, do some cleaning, get out, spend time with my daughter, read or sleep. Sleep helps the thoughts to give me a break and some mindful silence.
Here we go. I am using this post as a soundboard.
I don’t have a presentation to give, all organised and ready at a click of a button. That is not my style. So, on that note, I’m just gonna talk and talk and see what comes out.
Okay so, I was born in South Africa. I had a colourful upbringing. Lots of drama. I have done a lot of talking therapy and going to psychologists to not go too deep into my past. I have dealt with a lot of my issues from my upbringing. What I would like to point out is: I was always insecure. I had a lot of tantrums as a toddler and crazy dreams. Arguments and conflict are themes that stand out. The smell of Mandrax, weed and alcohol is always part of every experience. My Mom and Dad divorced when I was 2 years old.
My mom got remarried to an ex-boyfriend who had just come out of doing his conscription. My Dad got remarried to his current wife — my step Mom. I don’t recall seeing my dad and stepmom until I was about 8-10 years old. I’m not sure why and I don’t hold a grudge.
My Mom struggled with her mental health for years and years. I don’t think her being in violent abusive situations helped ease the stress. When I was about 5 years old my mother found blood on my underwear. I think my ex step father sexually used me. We left him and our cat Muffet, in the middle of the night to go and live with my Aunt. My Mom was desperate to give me a secure home and we finally found a two bedroom apartment to live in.
Things and people I remember from that time
I remember coming home from school one day and not being allowed in the apartment.
I remember a letter I had written to the caretaker of the flats. Something along the lines of ‘please don’t make us homeless’ . I’m a pretty shitty persuader haha…
Me always walking home on my own because my nanny was late
Eating SMASH and loads of ketchup
My annoying cousin/brother who was exactly the adjective I described. He was a total pain in the arse!
I remember Mom suntanning in the complex swimming pool.
We went to live in my Gran’s home and I was intolerable. I wouldn’t go to school. I was always throwing tantrums. I lived outside my own boundaries. I connected with no-one but my Mom. My Mom’s mental health was getting worse and my Gran had her own issues to deal with. There was a phone call and a few words exchanged. A car drive. Headlights, me half asleep under a duvet. Destination: Nan’s house.
Woohoo! Nan = party time.
Mom was crying the entire weekend. What on earth was going on? On a Sunday Mom came into Nan’s room. She said some words. ‘I love you’ was threaded and sewn into the sentence many times. I looked into her eyes and saw my own fear. My Nan was designated distracter of the day. I put two and two together and I ran to the window and saw my Mom’s car bonnet driving down the cobblestones.
I spoke regularly with my Mom. There are a lot of gaps in my memory of this time.
Travelling and living in Miami back and forth-back and forth. I went back and forth to andfrom Mom’s home to my Nan’s home. Two people who love me making the best out of a shitty situation.
I made a close set of friends and a family who adopted me as one of their own and they provided me with all the normal childhood milestones and experiences. Skateboarding, inventing stuff to do, getting money to get soft serve ice cream with a flake, body boarding at the beach , movies, music, lots of laughter and lots of love.I never knew how destructive I was until I took a major overdose (12 years old),after a disagreement with my Nan. I ended up overdosing on all her vitamins, so my wee was super colourful for a bit.
I ask myself over and over why did I turn to drugs and starving myself? Who wants that kind of label hanging over them? I turned to drugs and it was social and a laugh to begin with until I craved more and more. My Mom was diagnosed with “Manic depression” and tried to maintain a full-time job. My Nan was working full time.
My Dad and my step mom and my half sister moved next door to us and worked full time. Why didn’t I move in with him? We did — once. My Dad with me and my step mom with my step sister and then my half sister. It didn’t work out. I was getting more and more out of control.
The rave scene wasn’t enough. I went through most of my life from 9 years old to 16 years old as blind as a bat. I needed heavy prescription glasses or contacts. I couldn’t see shit. I don’t know what people thought. I thought about that a lot. The fact I couldn’t see properly. I decided to make decisions from a different source and those sources were my thoughts and misplaced emotions..
I found myself driven to go down the whole rebellion route. I didn’t stop. My Mom came to live with me in Durban when I was 15 years old.
I had been to 4 rehabs for my eating disorder and drug taking thus far. I had been ordered by the court to‘ the land of the forgotten and damned‘ in ,Magalies Oord.
There is a story how that came to be but not in this post. It was in the middle of nowhere. I ended up running away several times.
One night we waited until ‘lights out’ and we took our mattresses and threw them over the sides of the barbed wire fence and ran to freedom. We nearly boarded a plane to go to Port Saint Johns but we got caught as we were about to board the plane. I was sent back to Magalies Oord for an indefinite time. I got out in three months with a crack habit because the ‘ counsellor’ looking after me( along with three other under 18-year-olds) had got sacked. She in retaliation decided to release us from hell and the fucking daily wars with the peacocks.
They were like Odysseus’ sirens, except you knew from the start you did not want to listen to them because they did drive a person mad. There must be hundreds of Peacock graves n Magalies Oord. That I am sure of.
The recreational drug taker became a 30 pill per day Mandrax addict who only left the house to go and score other drugs. I got myself into a lot of shit. It would take too long to explain. By this stage, I seemed to be following a path with bright blinking arrows pointing the other way in which I was heading. My friends left. They couldn’t help me.
I met a medley of characters: Dirty cops.
“Privileged” crack users.
Cocaine may be seen as the acceptable drug to take but for them and for me it wasn’t enough. I would go many weeks missing with bizarre people(the road travelled is indeed a fucken trippy one-drug addict or not). Diamond Smugglers. Mercenaries. I had a few longer stays in rehabs and hospitals. I became not only an illegal drug taker but I had been diagnosed with Anorexia-a bad heart and a Unhealthy mind.
I experienced stigma from my friends and family members.
There were 4 people who still saw some kind of hope in me. My Gran, My Mom, My Grandpa and my Nan. I moved and entered England as disgracefully as possible. I went cold turkey and had a major seizure. I carried on with the eating disorder – My entire English family had never come across someone like me. They did not and still do not understand me. No loss to me but one to my Nan. I only would make an effort for my Nan.
My grandad was diagnosed with Cancer round about the same time- and My Mom and Gran and then me all moved to France. I was drinking at least one bottle of champagne a day. I got so drunk I stole some of my Grandads morphine tablets. I lived gutter low morals with a mismatched luxurious lifestyle. I eventually came back to England and started full-time work.
I had boyfriends and friends but I didn’t let people get too close. The more my mental health deteriorated the more reclusive I became. I ended up resigning from a travel career I loved because I allowed Anorexia to get into my head.
Multiple lengthy stays in Eating Disorder clinics. I tried to be ‘normal’. In 2007 I decided to enrol in a local college and get some kind of stability and life back. I had been out (of an 11-month stint in an ED clinic in York) for less than a week and signed up to a foundation degree in Acting. I didn’t know how to communicate with any of my peers.
I would tremble when I spoke because I hadn’t spoken to people — normally: for so long. I withdrew. I managed one term. I got a distinction for my classical acting and then ended back in hospital again for another 7-month stint in Cheadle.
A few of us girls went for a day out as a privilege to Blackpool for good behaviour and consistent weight gain. I was still too ill but one of the nurses said to me ‘ Ignore them-they are ignorant.’
I asked her what she meant. Apparently, a group of people passed us on the street and were taking the piss out of me and how I looked and being human, I guess. I didn’t let it bother me.
I left Cheadle and went back to college to carry on with my studies and then CRASH BOOM BANG I got involved with ‘he who shall not be named‘-I’m not going into to it too much at this point in time. Long story short. Shitty relationship. Bruises. Overdoses. Alcohol. Concerned people at college and then indifference. I didn’t see what they saw. Hindsight’s a bitch. I suppose I felt discriminated then.I do feel that every time I have felt judged or side carted it has been for a justified reason.
Then I was put through another challenging test of giving birth to a child and having that child taken from me and then having three years of lengthy legal proceedings to get her back.
THIS WAS WHERE I FELT THE MOST STIGMA.
Professionals need to be aware of mental health. What I saw happening in the courts and in the social service meetings shocks me even to this day. I’m not perfect but I was asking people to help me and my daughter. I did everything possible to get my baby girl back. She was taken from me on the 13/12/2011 at 12 weeks old due to a horrific accusation fuelled by hate and jealousy.
I finally got her back 16 months later under a care order. Social services and I shared parental responsibility. I’ve never felt more helpless and discriminated in a system that professes to help people with troubles. I cut ties in the relationship with the ex for good.
My anxiety levels came down naturally from being in my own home and feeling safe and I naturally didn’t need to misuse drink anymore. I didn’t need to overdose. I did need to get my baby back. She should have come back to my care much earlier than she did.
They threw Domestic violence at me.
Alcohol misuse. ( I did a hair strand test that came out negative to alcoholism).
Drug use. Clean.
My past- my family.
One psychiatrist came out with this gem ‘ the past is a great indicator for future behaviour’ .. Doctor, Let me prove you wrong.
I did. They moved the obstacle when and as many times as possible. They did not want to lose this case and take responsibility for where they had gone wrong.
We were one day away from going to a 12-day court hearing and I told my legal team to annihilate them. As it already was they were charged by the court to pay money from their penny fund for their ineptitude in our case.
6/7 social workers and many arguments with the independent reviewing officer and having a black storm cloud over my head we went back to court and the care order was revoked on 6/05/2015.
They sung my praises in court. I was advised by my legal team to address the judge myself. I was more than capable and I didn’t need anyone to speak for me.
This is why I started to use all my extra time into mental health charities and working with them on issues like a stigma. This issue within the government and institutions need to change. I want to show parents and carers how they can find a voice and what they can do to gain them some leverage against social services. How to work with them as a team. I know where to signpost troubled parents. It doesn’t stop there.
I have so many people I am in touch with to work on projects for people with mental health issues in the pipeline. I get to use my creativity and my writing. I’m excited and kind of shitting myself at the same time. I don’t know what I am going to say at this workshop.
I do know one thing if I said no to talking I would have strengthened the stigma barrier for people with mental health issues.
I am not perfect. I still have days when I get it wrong. I do use different coping mechanisms to help me more than the older safer and not so helpful ones. I can finally truly feel what it means to be control of my destiny.
“I fuck up all the time. I also make sure I get my shit together and fight for what I want and who I want in my life. I can’t fight for the ones who give up on me but I can only wish them the very best “
Apologies for not reading as many Blogs as usual. I have read as many as my mind can take in. It’s been pretty rough for me lately.
All very “woe is me” and it has got boring!
but it is a new -ish day!
I needed too get something optimistic out into the Blogo sphere
My tuition loan for my MA in Creative writing has come through- waiting on one more loan to come through.
I don’t take no for an answer!
Then 2 years from now I will do a mini PHD top up and go and rule my world!
Oh and in other great News,
I’ve been officially approved on the WRAP training facilitator course in September. If you don’t know about it yet. You will do. I will merge my own personal WRAP PLAN and journey with my new role of holding the space for others to have courage and believe in themselves and feel safe to go on their own journey .
I’m not a teacher, merely a person who has a chance to offer support.
Volunteering with charities in Mental Health is the best thing I started doing with my life.
They know I have been ill , may even get ill again. The point is, if I don’t put myself out there I will not have a chance to seize any opportunities.
Volunteering gives me drive, Keeps me focused, empowers me to do my best in life and if I manage to help a few people out on the way then what more can I ask for?
Oh and here is how I was able to get on this course. Scroll down to check out my PLEA to get on this training.
Just hit scroll if you don’t want to hear me go on for oh 5 minutes on my video cam… 😀
This is my career. I take it seriously.
If you want to listen to me waffle about how I felt about WRAP way back in December 2015 – feel free. 5 minutes of me talking!
Oh the excitement! 😉
Oh and if you don’t want to know about WRAP.
Ha ha! I’m not.
My WRAP page needs updating but if you want to know what Daisy get’s like when she is passionate and determined CLICK HERE.
Never thought that me filming myself nearly a year ago would lead me to this.
I, Daisy Willows,agree to abide by the WRAP ethics and values.
*PLEASE ANSWER THESE FOUR QUESTIONS TO CONFIRM YOUR PLACE ON THE TRAINING*
ABOUT MY WRAP EXPERIENCES AND HOW I USE WRAP IN MY LIFE
When I was given the opportunity to be a part of WRAP, I didn’t know how much it was going to impact on my life and the lives of others.
I was and am by nature sceptical. I have relied on medication and psychotherapy and in patient treatment as a way of managing my mental health for most of my life.
WRAP was a three-month period where I began to realise that I could have more of a say in how I want to be treated and how I could cope differently.
I learnt so much. I now have so many different ways of coping and I find that when my mental health does dips, I do get back to being in a better mind state more quickly because of some of the techniques I have learned and adopted.
I believe WRAP is personal and unique to everyone who participates. I don’t think I took away the same thing as any one of my peers.
It was an opportunity to discover more about myself. How I can help myself.
I learned to work as a team. I felt safe and I didn’t feel judged.
3.MY REASONS FOR WANTING TO BECOME A WRAP FACILLATOR
WRAP has given me the confidence and skills to live a life I want to live. I want to be able to share that with others
I am able to take every aspect of what is covered in WRAP and either use it myself or pass on what I have learnt to others who may need advice.
I believe WRAP is the way forward with the CPA. I have given a plan over to my professionals who support me about my wants and what I don’t want to happen if I go into a crisis again.
I have alternative ways of coping with my wellness toolbox. I also have a post crisis plan to let people know when I am getting better and I can start taking more responsibility for what I can’t when I have been unwell.
WRAP is truly the best gift I ever received.
Is there anything bad to say about WRAP?
Well I suppose an open mind helps.
It requires commitment to wanting to improve my life and consistency.
4.WHAT I WISH TO DO WITH MY WRAP QUALIFICATION
Spread the word. Let people know there is another way to manage Life in many different ways. I want be a Wrapper. Use my qualification to just offer support. I am no teacher but I can give my time and my energy and my listening skills. I am enthusiastic and passionate about WRAP. I believe I will be a great asset to getting this programme and alternative way of living out into our community. I use WRAP every day, even when I am not even aware it.
We all have to start somewhere to get to somewhere else right?
A year of volunteering and training done so far and all of the effort has been 100% worth it.
So, today I am very proud to say I successfully helped to put together a Mental health awareness workshop and co -facilitate it.
I felt so at home. I felt the most comfortable I have ever been. I’ve helped out with a few workshops before but this was like my mini baby step to doing something I didn’t think I could do.
‘Be your greatest cheerleader – nobody else is likely too.’
Upon reflection I realised we still have a long way to go to reduce and breakdown Stigma against Mental health issues in our community and society.
I stick by my rule of always being authentic. I have nothing to hide. The more I shared, the more I felt I connected with other people.
People opened up and it was awesome to observe this.
We all have mental health and I discovered a lot of people have similar issues. We deal with them in different ways and some can have more extreme ways of coping than others or vice versa.
I’m on a roll here . ha ha
I know what you are thinking. Just let me have this moment? Please!
United, we can break down the stigma attached to mental health and address the issue properly.
We all have a mind and a body -so no one- unless a person defines themselves as an actual (not metaphorical) robot- is susceptible to having Positive mental health and Negative mental health over the course of a life time.
Why do we feel ashamed to be labelled? We quite happily wear labels like Prada , Gucci, Matalan , doctor , chef , cleaner, politician ?
I don’t have any shame in what I have done or what I have been through. I have so much respect for the people I meet here and in the real world.
I am truly on a mission.
Perfection is unattainable!
We need to leave that with the Romans.
Look to the future .
Even better pause and take time to enjoy the moment. Look around you and be happy with what you have.
Don’t read beauty magazines or buy into the celeb media market.
Pick up a book and expand your mind. Take pictures. Paint, draw, act. Get creative.
I have recently found out that a lot of people Photoshop ( I mean really Photoshop) their social media images.
No wonder I don’t recognise people when I am out and about in the big wide world.
I am kind of joking . 😀
I do day dream when I am out and about.
I always have a million things going on in my head.
Not everyone does this Photoshop thing but to know that people do, just made my jaw drop.
So I am going to stick with being real. It seems to be working.
I can smile at strangers in the street and they smile back.
We are all human.
We need food, exercise ,sleep, a toilet……. Can you see where I am going with this?
That’s it for now.
I did it.
We did it.
Totally motivated and ready to break down stigma.
My mantra is:
‘I am successful at whatever I do.’
no matter if that means getting out of bed or getting my degree.
What must I do with the tug that pulls at my rubber heart like a current working against the frequency waves of my mind?
You’ve won a trip to wonderland!
Can I take my bed with me? I’m finding it hard to stand.
Look at your dress! You are going to make a beautiful bride.
Everyone you love is coming.
Heart and mind can’t you connect and just be normal and run with this ride?
There must be something I can do to make me tick-tock without the need to be wound up every hour.
You have been Given 50 grand to buy whatever catches that mag pie eye of yours!
Can I take my bed with me ? I find it easier to shop if I am in a position where I am flat and can lie.
Look at the state of your current wardrobe. You have the chance to come home with bags of vintage finds!
Everyone will want to mimic your own inimitable fashion style.
Heart and Mind cant you connect and just be normal and and fall within the right lines?
How am I going to get out of this mind- full, conundrum soup when I’ m not even given the correct utensils?
Look you have the key to happiness, it is my gift to you .All you have to do is unlock it!
Can I take my bed with me so I can laugh at your attempts to tell me what I crave is within me? Let me have a snack and scoff for a bit.
Look within you. All you desire is hidden in that quagmire.
Every one who loves you wants you to break free from this Sisyphus like dream state .
Heart and Mind I need too show you how to connect again. I want to feel what my life reflects -allow me one last attempt to become everyone’s favourite sunbeam, mate .
I need one last line ,
to make this life mine.
I’m sick of living in a sand bed ,low tide -in a place where chances of survival is hidden in an oasis-mirage like den .
So, I have been pretty quiet on how I have been dealing with my Anorexia lately. It has been hell. I went on a detox in July 2015 and put on weight! Yes! I don’t know how I managed it.
I have been struggling to get rid of the weight although it could have been a combo of muscle too. I am a bit of an exercise bunny. Anyway At Christmas I “forgot” how to eat again. I’ve dropped nearly 8 kilos in less than four weeks.
I don’t need this shit. My mental health and weight have been stable for nearly 5 years. I’m getting married in 5 months, I’m planning on having a brother/sister for my precious child at the end of the year and I’m succeeding in the volunteering/working world.
I tried loads of different non-medication alternatives and other medication tweaks over the last few months. My C.P.N. and psychiatrist finally put me back on Diazepam again at my request. I’m on a whack of meds already ( for my Bipolar too) but the lorazepam wasn’t working any more. I started getting panic attacks around eating again and have survived mainly on water and sweets for a month.
I’ve had hardly any energy to have a proper good work out. I have lost a lot of muscle tone and I don’t want to lose the body I have worked so hard to achieve in four years. I don’t want to be skinny. I want to stay lean. Keep my glossy hair and glowing skin. The remainder of my teeth…
Let’s hope this med change works. Tonight, I’m about to have my first proper sit-down meal with my family in a month. I am terrified. I don’t want to put on too much weight. I’ve chucked all the sweets out and got some good quality veg and seafood. Fruit. Normal food!
I am going to do this and move forward. It’s okay to stumble. I have caught it in time. I want my glow back and my energy. I’ve so much work to do this year. The eating disorder recovery group is happening. I’m still here. I say a big fuck you to Anorexia and I’m fighting back. No more hospitals. I am not a victim.
I am back! Not perfect. Always flawed. I am a fighter.
When it comes to looking after my own mental health; the one thing I have found hard to control is self-medicating.
- You know -a few drinks mixed with some hardcore benzodiazepine and possibly a smoke of weed -all night and into the morning: is probably not going to do me and my mind and body any good.
I used to self medicate for years. I’ve been mostly stable these past 5 years. Taken my meds as prescribed and trying more holistic ways of coping.
So mindfulness- staying in the moment is a good discipline to practice. CBT -distraction. Finding out what my interests are.
These days I work with mental health charities. I’m trying to make a full-time career from it. It’s amazing what experience and a better state of mental health have done for me.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not magically cured. On New Years Eve, I met up with a guy I knew would be up for a mad session of partying. Something in me needed to connect. I needed to plug into that buzz I used to get.
Lesson learned for me
Going back to old coping mechanisms to ease my mental health issues is mostly going to end up in tears.
With me walking home after ‘my friend’ kicked me out of his house saying I was psycho. I can’t remember a lot of the night but I do know that is one heavy accusation coming from someone with his back ground and record.
I don’t usually mind casual use of words like ‘psycho’ and ‘loony’ in certain contexts, although I am mindful when and who I use them with. What did hurt more than anything was him telling me I am a psycho.
These acts of rebellion as I like to call them are few and far between these days. When they do occur I learn the lesson quicker. Go on a downer and then build myself back up within a day or two. I exercise. I do a lot of positive self-talk and I cut ties with the negativity.
I’m pretty chilled and easy to talk to in real life. I am getting married in 6 months to an incredibly supportive man who gets my turbulent acts of rebellion. Of course, they can’t happen too often otherwise the disrespect in our relationship would kind of snip in two.
It is hard not to self medicate and get on the right medication. My illness requires tweaking here and there.
The main message I want anyone to take away from this post if any is, that I don’t feel ashamed for having an illness..
I am ashamed of how reckless and out of control I get when I take my mental health for advantage.
It’s 2016. A brand new page. Well, we are four pages into it 🙂
No more parties and highly overrated expectations to waste my money. and act like a woman with no responsibilities.
As long as do what I can to keep myself on the upper end of the mental health scale,then I know I am doing the best I can.
I could have used other ways to deal with New Year’s Eve but I chose to get ‘crazy’ and relinquish myself and power to my illness.
Mental health issues are hard to gain control of. Sometimes I just live as best as I can. Keep things simple. Keep my life simple. Be a Mum and a sort of responsible person. I have learnt quite a few tools to cope over the past 5 years.
I am more than happy to pass on some tools and ways to cope other than medication. I use a combination. This is my first post so I will go easy.
Get rid of the negative shit in your life. It is so empowering! Once that negative bubble has been popped and you take the first step to the other dark side- lots of cookies, hot chocolate, movies. Simple pleasures. If you take that small step you will start to attract positive people and have positive experiences in your life.
I’ve been bummed out for three days. I keep going onto my WordPress site and wondering what the hell to write about. This conjures up negative and totally unhelpful thoughts about my ability to be creative. What is that quote ‘Your thoughts manifest your reality’ or something like that? I guess I can see a whole lot of truth in that. So what has been going on with moi?
I spent a bittersweet day with my three uncles who swept in from France and Miami, my cuz, my Nan to celebrate my Gran’s 81st birthday. I was blown away by how on the form she was. She toasted my mind when she looked at my Nan’s (Dad’s side) handbag and uttered these words ‘tres jolie’
Hello! She hasn’t said a proper word in over a year. Then she came out with ‘J’taime’. Amazing shit. She even laughed when my uncles joked about. She was soaking up the family vibes like a paper saturated LSD sheet, that after a couple of hours non stop twittering, she couldn’t keep up with everything that was going on and so we left her to chill and repose.
We all went to the place I am getting married on 22/06/2016
to have English tea and other fancies. I felt a slight tinkle of pity for the waiter then thought to fuck it, he is getting paid for this.. We all just rocked up demanding High tea. Not just any cup of chaar know. He had other demanding tables to wait on and he had to get out all the fine china out and set a table for nine. The two non- tea drinkers of the day demanding a drink. Waiter becomes barman. Should he maybe get a superhero hashtag? It took so long far too long to receive my drink so I thought I might as well order two. Seriously over half an hour to shake up a cocktail and pull a fine draught of ale? The thought did cross my mind to ask if we had decided to downgrade and have ‘low tea’ as opposed to high tea, would that hurry the waiter/barman up/china crackpot to point us to our table.
We had a flip flapping time. Crumbs of Easy conversation and catching up. Lashings of Laughter, the clinking of inhouse family jokes peppered along with scones, clotted cream, creme brulee. tarts, crust free sandwiches and watches. Sounds like I’m straying into Lewis Carroll’s mad hatter party territory. Let me enlighten thee, My twin uncles decided to buy everyone a watch. I’m no-name brand dropper but it’s a good one. It tick-tocks. Hahaha. They left on Saturday and I didn’t want to see them go. I didn’t want to say goodbye. I left our Rendez -Vous on a high.
Other news from the languished fields of Grasse. Imagine a delicate fleur’s petals being pressed into an uncompromising position and so decides to use its fragrance like a weapon. I too have been put into many -ahem… positions this afternoon. Ha, don’t be so dirty-minded. Or is that moi?
THE BEASTER has
totally beasted me. I do genuinely feel like puking every time I finish her workouts.
Aaaaaaw I’ve been so spoilt. Earlier today my Ma and my other uncle stopped by for a natter-he bought a beautiful gift for all of us. A gold cross for my daughter, an Italian dog tag for the hubby to be and a gorgeous Senegalese necklace for me. It is meant to bring good luck.
I have been so touched by the love and gestures of my uncles. My aunt was missed but ultimately we have to move on. Reminds me of another saying
‘If you are depressed you are living in the past and if you are anxious you are living in the future and if you are at peace you are living in the now’
I’ve been so low and anxious lately. I’ve had supercharged extremities in mood changes- rapid cycling – is the term most in the know use. I think I would rather do a 3-day spinning class than go through these mood changes. I am the proverbial ‘ mood ring’. Is the mood ring a proverbial phrase? Whatever it’s been done. I always get through it but it is iffy dogs bollocks. Yesterday, I thought- shall I get tanked up on alcohol? and then I thought I can’t be bothered. I can see no benefit to it other than a little merriment. When did I get so sensible, so not L’Enfant terrible’?
Perhaps, my now not-so-new coping skills have changed the dynamics of my crisscrossed, disjointed and colourful patterns in my brain of some my old behaviours. The grooves may or may not have got ‘groovier’ Depends on who you talk to on the subject of grooviness. This leads me to the ‘WRAP’ (up)course I’m doing. I’m so new to blogging and WordPress. I am trying to add a WRAP page with subcategories for all the different topics I will cover in the group so I can share it. So far so not succeeding on the website works.
I did it. Got a blog posted. FUCK that was hard. It might not win me an ‘awesome blog post’ award but I did it. mmmmmmmmmmmmh that reminds me of a wedding cake update I need to do…………
This is most probably going to sound manic. THE AIM: is to work through the going -on’s in my mind by bleeding it out.
This is what it feels like. THIS THING. IT. I haven’t eaten all day and I am buzzing. I’ve had 100 things reeling around my mind like an old fashioned movie projector.
- Paint for the house
- Look after Isabella
- Book Isabella birthday
- Hair appointment
- Ballet and tap
- Sort out photos on the laptop
- Book restaurant for my graduation and my birthday in Manchester.
- Do family scrapbook dating back to great great great grandparents -not because I’ve been asked by Bella Bees school to do this but because she needs to know her roots.
- Go and see my Gran at her care home
- Juggle the bills
- Act normal even when I’m fizzing and popping like candy on the inside
- Make sure Tatiana has not pissed on the floor
- Wedding. All thing wedding-y
- Must do exercise every day or else something bad will happen
- clean house every day and night or I will have failed to accomplish all the goals I set myself
- Play and chat with family and friends who are going through hard times
- Avoid Haribos and cocktails
- Don’t forget how to write
- Am I frigid?
- Am I fat/chubby/healthy
- My teeth make me want to cry
So many things to do think about. All at once. When I am doing things I am not eating. This sets off the Bipolar and I get impulsive. Okay, today I forgot the password on my Mobile and all of a sudden I started thinking about getting a new phone. I can pay £300 for the phone. How? I don’t fucken know. I will go into my overdraft -take out the wedding money. My partner and Mom calmed me down. I need to wait. Be patient. Use those tools.
AAAAAAAARGH ! I’m in a boo. Finally, I get the phone unlocked. My insides are like ribbons being wound around by a bunch of kids on a maypole – round and round and square and then, feathers lightly tickle my insides. The anxiety. My Amygdala is firing up the dopamine minions. I feel invincible.
I don’t need to eat because I can do so much more in this state. For once I’m going to beast this demon. A live show- get your tickets now. I’m gonna show him I can beat him. (I’m sound like such a fucking old school feminist) how will I defeat my nemesis? I will use a scale and numbers to prove who is winning.
101 things to do
- invite friends to Isabella’s party plus all the other things I need to do.
- I need to understand blogging – I need to know all of it now.
- I need to be the best volunteer. I want to change the community.
when I am high like this I can achieve these results because I am on working on a higher frequency. I get results. People feel the glow. The charisma. Confidence. They too want a bit.
What’s that teeny tiny voice of thought trying to say? shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…. oh fuck. you again.
Introducing tweedle Reasonable and twaddle rational. I actually do have the tools to stop this getting way out of hand. I’ve been known to disappear and take a walk on the wild side – do doo de doo
I miss my highs so much……
but are they worth it.? I’m gonna take my PRN and wait for it to bring me down and then I’m gonna go back to doing things at a pace of a(scream it) dead woman walking.
Oh, shit the wedding. Practice mindfulness. How can I focus with so much going on. Everything has to be done today and it has to be perfect. Am I a bad Mom? Really? I do not need these kinds of thought’s right now. Do you know that I have a bunch of courses I have started on-line? I haven’t done them for over a week. I have a DBT course to yet to start. Papers everywhere, the printer is jammed, I can’t remember which file goes where. I’ve got people who need me. I can’t let the people I know and have yet to know down. Shit, I bumped into my god-daughter today. I missed her birthday. I missed it. I see her walking towards me in town and she tries to dodge me -she is shy that way or maybe she sees the freaky deeky inside me. I stop her and reach into my purse. Force her to take the money. I feel good. I feel hungry. I can override that hunger by doing good. Be a good person.
Glug Glug .. washing down my PRN (prescription as needed) meds with Evian water. I know I need to eat and balance out my mind. One part of my brain says I haven’t done enough exercise. The other part says that I have been on the go all day and I’ve worked out really hard. I can’t afford to get obsessed about it because the tower deck of cards will tipple. Floored and flawed again and again.
I want to write better than average. This is an insane post. I am not insane. I know how to take back control. I will write a list of the things in my head that I need to do, hit print and pin it up. mmmmmmmmmmmh What song should we have for our first dance? I love Billie holiday.
mindful blogging. I’m onto something here. Copy righted it already. ( haha) Okay, let’s work on it. Tap tap tap. Stop tapping the keyboard. I look around. I can vape. I need to vape. 5 clicks and I’m sucking and puffing.. la la la la la the hilly mounds in my head reverberate music round my mind. Remember this one?
My aunt used to sing ‘ puff the magic dragon’ to me when I was little. She ( wherever she is) used to say no wonder I became a drug addict. She also let my teeth on her Marlboro lights cig packet When she told the story it sounded funnier. My phone is unlocked. YAY! I have hardly acknowledged my partner. Did I even thank him for dashing into town to get my phone? I need to check that one over with him.
Why can’t I write about the care home? Gran’s care home. Nothing tonight/ this morning will I ever be able to describe in words what it is like to be in a care home and look around at all the people lost in the past and not untouched. No stimulation. I decided to jazz it up today put on a bit of ‘el divo’ today. Music stirs the soul indeed. These wonderful people came back to life for a few moments.
I have so many other posts I want to post at the same time as this one. I can’t. I can’t. I must eat. I have to eat. I have to come down a bit. My heart rate is coming down This is what goes on in my mind when I feel high. At least I bought my mommy some sunflowers. I’m not a bad person. My heart is in the right place. I am a good person I’m just a bit peculiar.
WOW, what a long post. I shall sign off with a quote ‘If it is not then it shall be’ Janet Lorraine a friend and resident in Long Grange care home.