Guest Blogger | Yasmin | A person’s progression through a highly misunderstood illness

I am going to do a series called ‘Guest Blogger’, and yes, as the name suggests I am welcoming anyone to feature on my blog; whether you are one of my best friends, an acquaintance, or just  an interested reader of my blog. Today I have a wonderful and honest blog by one of my best friends in the world. We shared the best and worst 3 years of my life: university. We were even neighbours in my 3rd year. She certainly helped keep me on the straight and narrow and always provided a shoulder to cry on. I’m very proud of her, especially with how far she has come with her mental illness. She is going to be an f’ing doctor – how amazing is that? Please get in contact with me on rosiebrown.contact@gmail.com if you want your blog featured on this website. 

 

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Disclaimer:

You must excuse me but I’m finding it hard to find the words to write this blog. Do I try and be funny? Nah, I’m not that good at that. Do I try and be serious and thought provoking? Well that’s not me either. The thing is, I’ve been writing this blog post inside my head for a long time. Over and over I will think of how witty I might be, how charming this story could turn out. But then I bottle it. No one wants to hear what I say I’ll tell myself. Well I’m so over that self-loathing bullshit (for today anyway), I’m going to hammer on these keys until magic happens, or I give into the temptation of a Muller corner and run downstairs to the kitchen. So hold onto your knickers ladies (and fellas, if you’re so inclined)…

I first realised I didn’t feel quite right when I was 12. I tell my mum in the car on the way to Merry Hill that sometimes I felt sad and I didn’t know why. She correctly points out that I’m going through the shitfest that is puberty and it’s only natural. She is right; I’m 12 for gods sake. I can’t even work out which member of Blue I fancy the most (just kidding- yours forever Duncan).

Puberty rages on, but I begin to notice I really don’t feel ok. I fly off the handle at the most bizarre things, I cry for no reason. I start cutting myself. It’s the only way I can turn this pain into a tangible, comprehendible thing. By this point mum’s clocked on, as all good mothers would, that I’m not coping. She thinks it’s academic stress. I always put myself under the most ridiculous pressure for no reason. A classic example of this would be when I gave myself psychosomatic stomach problems in year 3. Eight year old me couldn’t cope with the stress of mental maths and studying the Tudors, and got myself a free pass to the loo for every wave of sickness. Vomming in the junior school loos on a daily basis was not a highlight of my career it must be said.

I find myself on the waiting list for my local Children and Adolescent Mental Health Services. I lie my way through the interview with the kindly therapist: “Do you ever hurt yourself?” “No”. “Do you ever have suicidal thoughts?” “No.” Lie lie lie. By this point I’m wanting out of this strange world that only seems to want to bring confusing sadness. My attendance at school drops to a dangerous low, which is kindly highlighted on every school report with a big fat “!”from the headmaster. The battle to leave my bed is too much. When I make it to school I end up leaving my classes, accompanied by one of many concerned friends to the sickroom. That little cupboard under the stairs is my private Idaho. I nestle amongst the emergency tampons and antiseptic wipes a blubbing mess waiting for the nurse and my form tutor to arrive and sympathetically stand there, clueless as to how to proceed.

After several ruined family events (I really am sorry about that BBQ mum) and threats by an exhausted mother to have me sectioned, I eventually get to see my CAMHS therapist and psychiatrist. My life begins to change. Simon, my therapist, sees me at school and home and helps me use CBT. Monthly trips to Dr Win keep me in good supply of both fluoxetine and a shoulder to cry my secrets into. It’s still tough; I’m still not in control how I’d like to be. However by age 16 I’m leaving school with more GCSEs than I really need and new focus- I’m going to be a doctor.

I’m not cured, I’m no survivor. Partly because it’s a wank cliché, but also because depression is a spectrum you never leave but merely move around on a day to day basis. I have regrets. I regret the pain I put my parents through, the shit example I set my little sister. I regret having a body covered by scars that leave me embarrassed getting naked in front of anyone new (although I do worry more about the size of my thighs). However, the experiences I’ve had leave me with a unique perspective that I really hope will lead me to be a good doctor.

I guess I’m writing this for several reasons. Firstly, I’m well jealous of Rosie being so awesome and right on and setting up such a successful blog, something I’ve never had the balls to do. I thank her for giving me a platform and the confidence to write this post. Secondly, I’d like to think I’m an example of someone that went from the lows of suicides notes and daily self-harm to achieving their goals. Fourteen year old me would never believe I could be sat on a Cambridge degree, battling through the final years of a medicine course. But here I am, battling on. I have bad days, bad weeks. But a friendly citalopram every day doesn’t hurt, and I’m learning to talk to those around me more about the way I’m feeling (although this is arguably the hardest part of my illness). I’m hoping that this has been more than self-satisfied drivel, and maybe an insight into a person’s progression through what I still see as a highly misunderstood illness. I’m not the first and won’t be the last (especially if Cambridge exam term has anything to do with it), but hopefully I’m one a growing number of people that have learned to accept their depression and not let it hold them back.

Yasmin.

An Inner Monologue in response to ‘Put things into Perspective’

At college (currently studying for an MA) I had a breakdown. I cried for over 3 hours, and then again for another 2/3 in the evening. It was not a good day. A teacher who I get  along with very well came up to me to offer me comfort (or at least she usually does). However this time she was stern (perhaps just a tactic). She told me to ‘pull myself together’ and ‘put things into perspective’. This is an example of my inner monologue following such a comment. I hope it illuminates how the mind of a distressed person with depression may work. 

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What does she mean? Why isn’t she saying anything more helpful? What a stupid comment to make. I know I am being irrational. Why am I being irrational. I can’t snap out of it. Why couldn’t I put things into perspective? Oh it’s because I am a weak person. What even is perspective? What needs to be put into perspective? Oh yes, the reason that I am crying over nothing during a lesson in front of my peers. Why am I crying over nothing? This is what perspective means. I am crying over nothing, whilst there are others suffering hugely around the world who aren’t crying. Why am I so weak? Why do I have to cry? I hate myself. I don’t even know why I am crying. I’m furious. God, why am I so angry? Why has this comment wound me up so much. It’s just one comment. Breathe. But why doesn’t this person understand me? I thought she did understand me. Nobody understands me. I am alone. My doctors don’t even understand me. I hate my GP. Oh God I’m crying even more. Why did I think of my GP? It was obviously going to make me more angry. I’m so stupid. Why is my GP so incompetent. I wish I lived in Cambridge still. I’ve made the wrong choices. Why am I even here? I hate this course. I hate everything about it. Or maybe I don’t. Maybe I’d like it if I was well. But I am never well. Am I ever going to be well? Why can’t I help myself? Nobody wants to help me. But I know my friends and family do. I’m letting them down though. It’s the medical people that aren’t helping me. Why should I help myself if nobody else is helping me? Oh God I am crying even more. Now people are going to think I am crying over something really stupid. Why do I keep thinking sad and angry thoughts. I am making myself worse. I can’t stop. Why don’t I have any control over what I am thinking. STOP brain. STOP. You have to stop making me sad. I can’t stop. Oh No, more tears. Crying as usual. Miss Dramatic. Miss attention-seeker. I need to get outside. I can’t breathe. I hate myself. Shit, don’t have a panic attack. Don’t panic, don’t panic. Why can’t I be normal? I feel so bad. Now people are wasting their time seeing if I am ok. I feel so guilty. I’ve just disrupted that class. Just like I disrupted classes at school. Why am I so annoying? If someone helped me maybe I wouldn’t be so annoying. Why hasn’t anyone helped me? I have been looking for help for as long as I can remember. Was I 12 or 13? That’s so young. I have wasted my life trying to find someone to help me. If someone had helped me then maybe I would have been able to live my life more fully. I wouldn’t have been suicidally depressed at school. I feel so bad for my friends. I miss my friends. I wish I was at home. Why can’t I be a child again. I need someone to look after me. Why do I have to keep trying. I am tired. So tired. Shut-up Brain I know you’re tired. Why are you so negative all the time. I hate you. Shut-up. Why me? People say they understand but do they? How can anyone understand what’s going on in my head when I don’t even understand. I don’t know who I am. Is that just part of having borderline personality disorder? I know a trait is being unsure about who you are. What even is borderline? I don’t even know whether I really have it. Is it even a real thing? Or is it a name they just give people that don’t fit into any other bracket? Why can’t they diagnose me properly. Why am I on a fucking waiting list. Give me MEDS. Give me more MEDS. I am not ok. I don’t want to be here. This has escalated too quickly. I was only crying about something stupid. Why won’t my brain let me be. Why won’t it just STOP. Please brain, please stop thinking. Maybe the only way to stop the thinking is to stop being. Don’t think about suicide. Suicide is a stupid option. But I don’t want to be here. But it’s not that bad. But it’s so bad. I can’t bear it. It will pass. I’ll be fine in a few hours. But then I’ll just be waiting for the next break-down, the next panic attack, the next bout of depression. I can’t keep living my life like this. Oh for fucks sake just SHUT UP.

Women and Mental Health: Inspired by International Women’s Day

“The silence depressed me. It wasn’t the silence of silence. It was my own silence.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Rather than a blog about my own personal experiences, this is more of an information blog. I have provided some thoughts about women and mental health and included some illuminating facts and statistics. I was inspired to create this blog post by International Women’s Day this weekend.

Mental health problems affect women and men equally.  It seems however that women are more likely to talk about their problems, leading to the assumption that more women suffer mental health problems. However some mental illnesses are more common in women, for example eating disorders. Although gender often doesn’t matter, treatments often have to be sensitive to and reflect gender differences.

Why are the statistics higher for women in some areas? There are various social factors which may go some of the way to answering this question. Women are particularly exposed to some of the factors that increase the risk of poor mental health because of the role and status that they typically have in society.  Some of these social factors are discussed on the Mental Health Foundation Website. They cite the following examples:

• Women are the guardians of family health – traditionally women have the responsibility of looking after family health.
• Women as carers- most carers are women, whether they care for their children, partner, parents or other relatives and friends.
• Women and mid-life – the combination of facing physical health changes, and caring for a family, maintaining  a job etc. increase the risk of middle-aged women experiencing a mental health problem.
• Women and social support – women are more likely to talk about their problems because of strong friendship support networks.

As I said at the beginning of this blog some problems are more common in women than in men, although generally statistics are even. Despite even statistics women are more likely to be treated for a mental health problem. This reflects women’s greater willingness to acknowledge that they are troubled and get support. It may also reflect doctors’ expectations of the kinds of health problems that women and men are likely to encounter.

I have listed some of the illnesses more prevalent in women:

• Depression. 1 in 4 women will require treatment at some time, compared with 1 in 10 men.  
• Self Harm.
• Anxiety. Women are twice as likely to experience anxiety disorders as men.
• Dementia. 2/3s of people with Dementia are women.
• Eating Disorders. 1.9% of women and 0.2% of men experience anorexia in any year.

On the other hand – Men are more likely than women to have an alcohol or drug probelm.

• 67% of British people who consume alcohol at ‘hazardous’ levels, and 80% of those dependent on alcohol are male.
• Almost three quarters of people dependent on cannabis and 69% of those dependent on other illegal drugs are male. 

A lot of these sats were taking from the Mental Health Foundation website, but there is also information on the NHS webpages and WHO (World Health Organisation) and www.womenshealth.gov. So go and have a read if you want to find out more. This blog was more of a taster, a quick look at a very complex and ever-changing subject.

I hope this blog post has been interesting and taught you something about women’s mental health. I am in no way undermining mental health cases in men. I am simply presenting some information about women to honour and celebrate Women’s Day.

PS: My favourite female writers at the moment are Sylvia Plath (always my fave), Ruby Wax (a new addiction), Susanna Kaysen (Author of ‘Girl Interrupted’) and Jeanette Winterson. Check them out. They all write about mental health in one form or another.

VIDEO | Self-Harm Awareness Day

(the video is clearer if you click the link and watch it on Youtube)

Hello everybody.

Yesterday/ this morning I have made a video on Self-Harm in honour of Self-Harm Awareness Day/ Month.

I deal with:
– What is Self-Harm.
– Why People Self-Harm.
– How Common is Self-Harm.
– What to do if you Self-Harm.

And I have interspersed some of my own personal experiences.

I hope you enjoy the video. It was difficult for me to make as I am still getting used to talking about it. If you have a youtube account then please subscribe. I am new to YouTube so would really appreciate the support. Also if you don’t already I tweet here : @fighiting_stigma.

Thanks for reading/ Watching. x

Vlog 2: More introducing and books

Adding another string to my bow by making videos as well as just written blogs. It just spices things up a little and makes hearing about mental health a little more exciting/ accessible.

 

Just made a little video this evening. I’ve added it to this blog so y’all can have a look at it. Like my previous (and first vlog) this one was not scripted, slightly rambly and quickly edited! In this vlog I’m just giving some updates about where I am in terms of blogging and social media (I’ve had some of my blogs published on the SANE website etc) and I have made some mental health book recommendations (especially Ruby Wax’s books!).

I am having a bit of a hard time at the moment but am focusing my excess (hypo) energy on making videos and blogging (which can only be a good thing I guess). I am also ploughing away at my adaptation of ‘Girl Interrupted’ – It is almost finished – preparing for first read through at the moment.

NB: It is Self-Harm awareness this weekend, so I’ll be blogging some more about Self-Harm in next few days.

Thanks for watching / reading and remember to subscribe and follow me on twitter for updates – @fighting_stigma.

x

Sympathy and Mental Illness: An amended Blog

I have decided to blog an amended version of my pervious post dealing with sympathy and mental illness.

A very good friend of mine suggested that it is futile to try and compare different types of suffering. I agree. Therefore, it is pointless to try and do so. I am not purporting that someone with cancer/ diabetes / a broken bone / any other illness/ desease / medical problem should recieve more or less sympathy than someone with a mental illness.  Someone with a broken leg and someone with a broken brain are each experiencing something unique to them, and thus how can a fair comparrison be made? But I want to suggests that people’s reactions are often very different.

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I want to plainly state that  someone with  a mental illness should be taken seriously and sympathised with where appropriate. It isn’t about saying, ‘Oh pity me because I have a mental illness’. It is about challenging opinions such as, ‘Depression is self-infliced’, and ‘Surely you can just pull yourself together’. Telling someone with depression to ‘snap out of it’ is a big no no.

Some in today’s media would go as far as to say that depression is ‘trendy’. See for example Janet Street Porter’s Article ‘Depression? It’s just the new trendy illness!’ written for the Daily Mail and the ‘Depression’ T-shirt by Urban Outfitters. 

A widely held opinion is that people with depression can just ‘pull themselves together’, or that they just aren’t trying hard enough to get better, or that they think they are cool/ edgy or current by having depression.

I recently expressed my worries about going into a hospital to my old English teacher from school, who is now a very good friend of mine. She said:

“Don’t worry about going into hospital if that’s what they think is best. You wouldn’t worry about going in for a severe sprain or broken limb, so why for a poorly brain? Same same. “

I think this is a fantastic piece of advice, advice which a lot more people should follow. Unfortunately depression comes with a package. It comes with a sense of shame and embarrassment. You can’t show your friends your lump, or your scar or your leg in a cast. All they have is your word and this is terrifying. Thoughts such as ‘will they believe me?’ and ‘will they understand me?’ run round your brain like little mice. The shame of having something invisible is huge. Whenever I tell somebody I have a mental illness negative voices pop into my head straight away. Would this be the same if I was telling them I was going into hospital for a knee operation? Probably not (I know I said I wouldn’t make comparrisons, but I am not comparing someone’s pain, I am comparing people’s reactions). If you had diabetes,or a broken arm or heart problem you wouldn’t be embarrassed about telling your friends, would you? (Unless of course said heart problem was caused by an over-consumption of pizza and chocolate, in which case a small amount of embarrassment might be understandable.) Why is it that every other organ in the body can get sick and you get sympathy, but when it comes to the brain you are often met with unhelpful comments such as ‘pull yourself together’ and are usually  filled with a sense of dread and shame.

Mental Illness is REAL. It isn’t made up. I think the best way to get this message across is talking about it. When you realise somebody else has gone through exactly the same thing as you, you are less inclined to think you made it all up. Thinking that your mental illness is all in your head and not real is hugely damaging and can hinder recovery. It is certainly a thought that has passed through my head many times. ‘Am I just making this up?’, ‘If I tried really hard will it just go away?’ etc. However the more I read about mental illness and the more I have been talking to fellow sufferers the more I am appreciating that this is a real illness. An illness which deserves people’s time and consideration.

Thanks for reading.

Remember to follow me on twitter @fighitng_stigma

A thought: Why do you get sympathy when you break your leg or have a physical disease but not when you have depression?

[I have written an amended version of this blogpost. This one was written in a hurry and I realise I may have been slightly insensitive to those who have been touched by cancer. Feel free to read this one – I won’t remove it – but please read my amended blog on sympathy too.]

 

The list of examples is endless. Should someone who has cancer recieve more sympathy than someone with depression? Is it ok to go to the doctors with a stomach ache but not ok to go if you’re feeling low?

I think I have to be careful here. This is a very controversial subject and this blog is really just a way for me to flesh out some of my ideas and opinions on the matter. I don’t want to tell anyone what they should or shouldn’t do. I just want to explore the issue from my perspective. Many people will find it hard to empathise/sympathise with the opinion that depression is just as bad as cancer. Many will be of the opinion that cancer is involuntary and can tragically affect anybody at any moment. Depression on the other hand is more of a choice/ influenced by social factors  – it is something people can just ‘snap-out of’. Some would go as far as to say that depression is ‘trendy’, a view only emphasised by society (I am thinking in particular of the ‘Depression’ T-shirt by Urban Outfitters). Someone with cancer can’t just ‘snap out of it’. I believe the same is true for mental illness. 

A widely held opinion is that people with depression can just ‘pull themselves together’, or that they just aren’t trying hard enough to get better, or that they think they are cool/ edgy or current by having depression.

I recently expressed my worries about going into a hospital to my old English teacher from school, who is now a very good friend of mine. She said:

“Don’t worry about going into hospital if that’s what they think is best. You wouldn’t worry about going in for a severe sprain or broken limb, so why for a poorly brain? Same same. “

I think this is a fantastic piece of advice, advice which a lot more people should follow. Unfortunately depression comes with a package. It comes with a sense of shame and embarrassment. You can’t show your friends your lump, or your scar or your leg in a cast. All they have is your word and this is terrifying. Thoughts such as ‘will they believe me?’ and ‘will they understand me?’ run round your brain like little mice. The shame of having something invisible is huge. Whenever I tell somebodyI have a mental illness negative voices pop into my head straight away. Would this be the same if I was telling them I was going into hospital for a knee operation? Probably not. If you had a heart problem you wouldn’t be embarrassed about telling your friends, would you? (Unless of course said heart problem was caused by an over-consumption of pizza and chocolate, in which case a small amount of embarrassment might be understandable.) Why is it that every other organ in the body can get sick and you get sympathy, but when it comes to the brain you are filled with dread and sometimes, unfortunately met with borderline hostility.

Mental Illness is REAL. It isn’t made up. I think the best way to get this message across is talking about it. When you realise somebody else has gone through exactly the same thing as you, you are less inclined to think you made it all up. Thinking that your mental illness is all in your head and not real is hugely damaging and can hinder recovery. It is certainly a thought that has passed through my head many times. ‘Am I just making this up?’, ‘If I tried really hard will it just go away?’ etc. However the more I read about mental illness and the more I have been talking to fellow sufferers the more I am appreciating that this is a real illness. An illness which deserves people’s time and consideration.

Thanks for reading.

Remember to follow me on twitter @fighitng_stigma

A blog on Loneliness: “I talk to myself and look at the dark trees, blessedly neutral. So much easier than facing people, than having to look happy, invulnerable, clever.” Sylvia Plath.

It’s no secret that Sylvia Plath is my favourite writer. She always manages to capture how I feel.

 “I talk to myself and look at the dark trees, blessedly neutral. So much easier than facing people, than having to look happy, invulnerable, clever.” Sylvia Plath.

I thought I’d start doing a couple of blogs about particular symptoms/ traits of my illness (don’t really like calling it that, but not sure how else to classify my ‘thing’.) The most prevalent/persistent feeling I am experiencing at the moment is loneliness.

Me + loneliness might be a pretty difficult equation for some of you to understand, particularly if you know me well. This is because I am not physically lonely or isolated. I am studying for an MA on a very intense course, where I have to be in college at least 9am-6pm every day (Mon-Fri). I am thus surrounded by people almost all the time. I then go home, where I live with 3 lovely people from my course. I am therefore, according to logic, anything but lonely. However lonely for me means something different.

I feel isolated and lonely in my struggles with a mental illness. I discussed this today with my therapist and for the first time I am starting to understand why I feel this way. (1) There’s the simple fact that it is very difficult for those who don’t suffer from a mental health condition to understand/ empathise with how  you are feeling. Sympathise they may do. But empathy and true understanding can only come, I believe, with experience, or some very intense/ very good training!

You can help people understand by explaining to them how you feel. This is where I fall short. (2) I find it very difficult to talk face to face with people about how I am feeling. I come across fairly eloquently on my blog. But believe me, having a face to face conversation about my mental health causes me to come across embarrassed, insecure and awkward.This is where loneliness kicks in.

Because I have been let down in the past by people, I think I am scared of letting anyone new in. I push people away. I even push older friends and family away. If someone isn’t close to me emotionally then they can’t let me down. Unfortunately I have ended up pushing almost everybody away. I am lonely because I can’t let anyone get near me. I think  I am scared that they won’t understand. And these fears are somewhat founded in truth. On the whole people haven’t been able to understand my illness. In the past this has led to break-ups, arguments, bullying etc. I suppose I am just scared of similar reactions.

I am driven to believe that if I cannot help myself then obviously nobody else is going to be able to help me. I shut myself off from exterior interference, sure that if I could just have a moments peace with myself that I would be able to sort out what is going on in my head. This hasn’t happened so far. In fact being alone has seemingly only served to worsen my problems.

I think at the moment I am resenting the fact that I have made myself emotionally distant and unavailable to my friends. I have imposed this loneliness on myself in some respects. A lot of the problem is that I don’t believe I can get better and therefore I resent people who try to help me. I’d rather be alone with my problems.

However, this blog is about sharing experiences, so in a way I am already a few steps along the path to opening myself up and accepting that sometimes I am vulnerable. I think a lot of the time, because of embarrassment and fear, I don’t let people in. I need to conquer these fears. But I believe this battle would be made a lot easier if there was a better understanding of Mental Health in the community. So here I am. Blogging. Trying to educate… and providing myself we a form of self-therapy/help!

The thing to take from this blog is that even if someone isn’t physically isolated/ alone they may still be feeling very lonely. Just sending a text to someone may help alleviate these feelings, albeit for a short period of time (see the timetochange/ timetotalk campaign).

Thanks for reading and please do follow me on twitter, where I tweet updates about my blog and other mental health related stuff 🙂 x

“Piglet noticed that even though he had a Very Small Heart, it could hold a rather large amount of Gratitude.”

Lovely quote from ‘Winnie The Pooh’ to kick start this little blog-post.

I just wanted to let it be known that despite the fact that I have been struggling massively this month I am very grateful to everyone for their continued support. I want to say a particular thank-you to those of you who I only know through the online mental health commuity. It is wonderful to hear your stories and your words of compassion and empathy. Knowing that someone I don’t know personally is reading and responding to my blog makes me feel needed and worthy. Some of you will know that I am struggling to find any support from the NHS at the moment, particularly since moving to London, so all of your support is great!

I started this blog for two reasons. The first reason, perhaps selfishly, was for ME. I wanted an outlet and a place where I could store and reflect on my thoughts. But secondly (and definitely more importantly) I wanted to start this blog to raise awareness about mental health issues. Yet it seems that there is now a third reason, and this is to not only raise awareness for those who don’t know a lot about mental health, but also to help those who are suffering. Sometimes is it comforting just to know that someone else is going through the same thing as you.

So, yes, to conclude I am very thankful to everyone who has been supporting me on here and reading/ commenting on my blog (and same goes for my twitter supporters!) I reached 5,000 views a few days ago, which is fantastic, seeing as I have only been blogging a month!

Thanks for reading and being there for me x

(Photo from Jeremy Mast)

Perhaps the biggest taboo of them all: Self-harm

I am going to try and not censor this blog-post, and I certainly don’t want to go back through it and edit out all the things I don’t want people to read. I am going to try to be as honest as possible. I will have to do another post on self-harm as there is simply so much to say, and so many different areas of self-harm to delve into. This post will deal with my struggle to open up about self-harm and why this is the time I am choosing to do it. 

So here goes. I am a self-harmer. And I have been since the age of 13. Not many people know this, and the people that do know know that I never EVER discuss this. I’m still in two minds about whether or not I will be able to publish this blog-post. This is a huge step for me. Even the majority of my family don’t know my dark secret. So to those family members that are reading this now I am sorry you had to find out this way – but for some reason getting my thoughts out in a blog seems the best way for me. I find it utterly unbearable to talk about this to people’s faces. Those who have tried will know this. I become overcome with embarrassment and brush off any talk of self-harm with empty promises and excuses. I can’t look people in the eye. I can’t even say the words ‘self-harm’, I have to use code words, or symbolic language. But not today.

Today I lay my secret bare for the whole internet. 

I have decided to write this blog post as I didn’t want to be a hypocrite. I have been writing in my blog about how important it is to open up about mental illness, as talking about a mental health problem prompts understanding and removes some of the stigma attached to it. Whilst I have happily written about my struggles with depression, anxiety, borderline personality disorder and my constant battle with the NHS, I haven’t opened up about a very secret part of my life. I am embarrassed and ashamed to say that I still, almost ten years after the first scratch, self-harm. I don’t do it regularly. Sometimes months and months can pass before I make another mark on my body. However no matter how long a gap I leave between self-harming behaviour the urge always returns to me. Sometimes I think that I have been cured  (when a long period of time has lapsed), yet my urge to hurt myself always seems to return.

I’m still not 100% sure why I do it. It seems to me that now it is just a habit. I am locked in a habitual cycle that I cannot break out of. Today my therapist asked me why I first started. I thought back to the year/ years when I first started to hurt myself. At first I didn’t know what I was doing. I don’t even think I saw what I was doing as self-harm. I’d scratch myself in maths with a compass or peel away at the skin around my nails. It wasn’t until about a year later that I really discovered what self-harm was, and that a lot of people were doing it (or at least it certainly seems like a lot when you look at the youtube ‘self-harm’ community). It started to become more regular. It was my way of coping with negative emotions. I was never very happy at school and was often bullied by my peers (I want to do a separate blog post about bullying so keep looking.) I think maybe I had depression from that young age (13/14), but my teachers/parents just put it down to hormones and the bullies. In hindsight I am certain that I was experiencing a deep depression around year 10/11 (age 15/16). I felt hopeless and alone. However I passed my GCSEs with flying colours and things looked up as I entered the 6th form. There was even talk of me applying to Cambridge. However a few weeks in things started to take a turn for the worse. Once again I was bullied and the depression like symptoms re-surfaced, this time accompanied by panic and anxiety attacks. Although I went to an excellent school there was very little understanding of mental illness. I was fobbed off to the school counsellor who did very little to help me (all this school crap is to be saved for another blog post). When I was 18 I took the matter into my own hands and drove myself to my GP. She diagnosed me with depression and drugged me up. However nothing was done about my self-harm. Sure, drugs can help deal with the symptoms of depression, but they didn’t remove the urge to hurt myself. A habitual thing like self-harm is deeply engrained into a person. Just like a bulimic cannot suddenly stop making themselves sick, or an anorexic suddenly wake up one morning and deciding they are going to revert to  a ‘normal’ well-balanced diet (I hope those examples work…. ) I required long-term therapy but unfortunately I moved to university at the end of the year and any help I was receiving at home was abruptly stopped.

I blundered through university with several severe bouts of depression and self-harm. However I just blamed it on the stress of the work-load. I was convinced that the self-harm and depression would go away once I had graduated. I was of course in denial. No such miraculous recovery took place. I think I thought the same thing when I left school – I thought ‘yes, once I am at university I will be ok’. I was foolish enough to make the same mistake again – I thought ‘yes, once I am at Mountview pursuing my dream career I will be ok.’ I was of course wrong.

I am self-harming nowhere near as much, and it has become more subtle. However the urges are still there almost every day. It is a thought pattern that often consumes me. The urges boil up inside me and I have to do everything in my power to fight them. Self-harm isn’t something I want to do. I obviously don’t want to scar my body and upset my family and friends in the process. It devastates me that I worry or upset anyone. But I honestly can’t help it (that is the hardest thing for someone who has never done it to understand). It’s an obsessive compulsion, an addiction and a habit.

I hope by briefly sharing my experience I can show people that it isn’t just ’emos’ or distressed, attention seeking teenage girls that self-harm. You don’t have to have been abused or had a terrible life either. My family have given me an amazing life. I went on great holidays and I went to a fantastic school where I gained excellent grades. I went to one of the best universities in the world and now I am training to be an actor at one of the country’s leading drama schools.  However, although my life may look perfect from the outside, unfortunately it isn’t on the inside. Because I have a mental illness. I still don’t know why I have this illness and I don’t know why it just won’t go away. But I know that I want to help other people who are struggling by writing these blogs and opening up about my life with a mental illness.

Thanks for reading and I am sure I will write another blog about self-harm (dealing with things like triggers, and thought process).

Feel free to contact me if anything I have said has resonated with you/ if you have any questions.

(I hope I haven’t disappointed or upset anybody.)

x

 

PS: I wanted to add a little note. I want to say thanks to my special girls (Z10), who essentially saved me. They are my rocks and my best friends. They took me in when I was alone. I completely love them.