Young, old, middle-aged, man, woman, gay, straight, religious, atheist, agnostic.
The common denominator? We are human.
We breathe the same. Our body works the same.
Therefore, why is there still a stigma when it comes to race, age, sex etc, etc?
And mental health.
For as long as I can remember, I have been the person who cries ALL of the time. The person that is hard to be friends with because they’re ‘too over sensitive’ and ‘reclusive’. As a child I would cry at every family get together, every birthday party, every Christmas. Every time that there were a lot of people around. It didn’t matter if I knew them or not, it would always be the same.
My mum said that she always knew that something wasn’t quite right. She had me in counselling at a really young age, speaking about why I cried, why I got angry. I grew a little older and then I would have to talk about why I had self harmed and why I was such a fucking nightmare to live with.
I come from a ‘broken home’ and my dad left when I was very young. Him leaving, crouching down to us with his bags next to him, hugging us and saying goodbye, always sticks in my mind. It is imprinted. Sometimes I cannot ascertain if it was real or just a terrible nightmare.
I loved my dad very much when I was a young child, regardless if he was drunk to the point that he was eating a kebab out of his own sick.
After my parents split, I became a different child. My mum favoured my brother (which she has now admitted was the case) and I felt alone and isolated. My mum eventually remarried and had other children. Leaving me even further out of the family dynamic.
At 18/19 I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder and tried many different medication, none of which helped because I didn’t take them everyday and I didn’t want to be another person who was mindlessly addicted to medication just to be silenced by the medical professionals.
At 21 ish, I had an undeniably life changing mental breakdown. It was August. I just lost my shit completely. Anxiety plagued my every cell. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop crying. My relationship suffered immensely. My family ties became strained. I let out every inch of myself and finally expressed everything that I had been holding in since I was young. Years and years of suppressed feelings, guilt and shame spilled from my soul. I felt lighter however I felt completely naked. Never have I bared myself so much.
It was after this that I undertook therapy and counselling, found medication which agreed with me and finally summoned some self worth.
The aim of this blog is to share my story, every year of my life, offer tips and propose coping mechanisms to help you in your recovery.
Join me on my journey to happiness.