As I sit here in a baggy t-shirt, having been at my computer for two hours following my partner arriving from work (and having had a busy day with my son – at home, of course), I look back and think about how two years ago, life was so much different.
I was in a bad place. A place where I felt like I was merely existing, floating above a chaotic world, numb to it. I would sit on the sofa and glaze over the television, the conversation going on next to me blocked out as I felt nothing but emptiness.
I’d spend a lot of time on the sofa – and in my bed. I’d also spend a lot of time crying myself to sleep – and crying myself awake. My days were spent taking sick leave from work (thank you to my old editor, who allowed me to do this last minute), not showering, my hair matted from having not brushed it in days.
Everything was a task; from walking to the shops and doing the dishes, to making my bed and opening the curtains.
Life hadn’t always been like that. Just months before, I’d been on holidays, out having fun with friends and working hard. But I turned into a completely different person. A person who was lost into the void, shut off from the world. I always have trouble explaining it, but I was in a state of: I don’t want to be here any more, but I don’t want to die.
I’d experience suicidal ideation; sitting in the bath daydreaming of my life coming to an end.
I withdrew from my friends and family and didn’t leave the house. I became a hermit. One that was anxious and on edge and shaky and mentally obsessive and depressed.
I would ruminate over everything and experience distressing thoughts. Awful images swirling around my head. Other times I would obsess over things I had done in the past and whether they made me an awful person. In the end, I was just a shell of myself. Everything was silent. Sure, life was still going on around me, but I felt dissociated and disconnected and like I was in white space, unconscious in a world that was not.
During this time, I became heavily suicidal and had three admissions under the Crisis team. But nothing helped. Nobody could change the way I was feeling. And nobody could stop my thoughts. A lot of things happened during this time, many bad and distant and distressing memories that I’d rather not write about. But what I can tell you, is that I was in the worst, and most mentally dangerous point in my life.
And if you’ve found yourself in a similar position recently, I want you to know that it will get better.
I want you to know that it won’t always be like this. This isn’t a forever feeling, even though it might seem like it right now. However, it also likely won’t be a feeling that will disappear forever. Mental illness often comes in waves. We can have both good and bad times. The important thing is to look at the good and really enjoy it in the moment.
I’ve said it before, but I see mental illness as a constant state of recovery. It’s a chronic illness and one that’s okay to not be ‘cured’ from.
I guess I’m just writing this because I want you to hold on. I want you to try to focus on the fact that you will once again experience a good conversation without being unable to focus because of the dark thoughts circling your mind.
And I also want you to know that it’s okay.
It’s okay if right now, you need to sleep more. There is no shame in needing rest. Mental illness can cause awful fatigue, and you need to look after your body.
It’s okay if you, right now, can’t face going out to events or into work.
I don’t particularly like the broken leg analogy – because a broken leg is something that generally heals quickly – but if you did have one, you wouldn’t feel bad for resting or taking sick leave or being unable to walk down the stairs.
Please stop feeling guilty for doing what your body needs you to do. Try to do one thing at a time. It’s all about little steps.
One day, make your bed. Another day, do the dishes. Another day, shower, and so on.
Even if all you do is open your curtains, it’s a step in the right direction.
I don’t want to be patronising or pretend that I know exactly what you’re going through. Because I don’t. And I never will.
But if you’ve found this post because you’re looking for something to relate to, I guess these might be feelings that we share together.
If you take one thing from this letter – even if it’s nothing from the above – let it be this: There is someone out there (right here) who wants you to stick around. Me.
So don’t stop holding on.
