Note: This blog post deals with Mental Health Issues, Sexual Assault and Domestic Violence. It may be disturbing for some readers.
I have four beautiful children, a loving husband, I run a fairly successful blog and I recently tried to kill myself.
Yep, while I’ve tried to maintain a very normal and brave front, emotionally I have been at turmoil.
My issues are deeply seeded back from many pasts ago and I’m sure as time goes on, I’ll be able to flesh them out, but right here and right now, I am dealing with the aftermath of an emotional breakdown. One that saw me hospitalised after a failed suicide attempt and now the subsequent consequence (or more like relisation) that it’s time to get help.
Why was it a failed suicide attempt? Did I fail? Is this just another thing in life that I’ve failed at?
Recently I had someone close give me a verbal bashing because of the stress I have put my family through. I was yelled at, abused and made to feel even more broken then what I already am. Newsflash! No one asks to get sick! No one asks to hit rock bottom! Comments such as these are neither constructive nor helpful.
It would be easy for me to put it in the Post Natal Depression basket, after all my youngest is just 18 months old. I have had 3 children in 5 years. My body has done its fair share when it comes to baby making, but, my issues go back long before children came along.
Could it be rooted back to when I would have panic attacks at just 13 years of age? The tendency to deal with emotions via self harm? When my house was broken into and I was sexually assaulted at 16? Could it be the substance abuse that I subsequently turned to after that assault? A teenage pregnancy? The breakup of my first relationship due to domestic violence? Are my moods and emotions hereditary? I’ve seen other family members struggle with physiological issues my whole life. Is it built in that I was always going to be crazy? Do I carry so much self doubt around that it is now becoming impossible to function?
So where have things gone wrong?
The loss of my business was brutal. For three years I invested so much time, energy, money, sweat and tears to build up my company. I won awards, traveled the country, helped people, felt like I had a purpose, a reason. But then the books caught up and I was forced into liquidation. I was devastated. Still am.
I did manage to salvage a little community that I’d built online. My Facebook page was rebranded and these past 12 months have seen me continue to grow my little online hub.
But, have I been selective in what I’ve posted?
Have I been deceiving and not forthcoming by choosing to not share my own personal struggles?
Do not for a second be misled into thinking I have my shit together.
I believe it is impossible to be physically healthy if you are not mentally healthy and the same goes vice versa.
Lately in life it seems I’m lacking in both.
My physical appearance is worrying. By all accounts, I am just 30 years young. I look fit, active, healthy, I have that enviable body but don’t be fooled. I am losing weight at an alarming rate. I am tired, yet I cannot sleep. I am hungry but I cannot eat. I’m trying to be thankful but all I do is cry.
My whole digestive system feels like it’s shutting down. Any food I eat is immediately expelled out the other end. Too much information! I know. Graphic? Yes! But graphic is what my life is at the moment. And it’s not just food that does it to me. Stress and anxiety also send me running for the bathroom.
It’s restricting me in my day to day life because I fear if I leave the house I will have a panic attack and poop my pants (putting it as nicely as I can).
Mentally there is no diagnosis. I feel fine or normal so to speak, but normal people don’t do what I did. Normal people don’t believe the only way out is to cut their wrists and take an overdose of sleeping tablets.
And it’s funny because I didn’t want to die. If anything, this has kick started me into realising just how precious life is. Death and the reality that our time on this earth is limited terrifies me. Why? Because I always felt that I had a higher purpose. I was here to do more, be more, achieve more. Perhaps I’ve set too many barriers for myself. Maybe I need to take stock of what I’ve already achieved.
I have four gorgeous children that depend on me. I have a beautiful home, a husband that is nothing but supportive, that never left my side while in hospital, liaised with family to ensure our children were taken care of, held my hand, took time off work, has cooked for me, cleaned for me, cared for me, loved me. He remembers the vibrant, ambitious, carefree person that I once was. He wants that back for our family. I want that back for our family.
I do hope that someone, somewhere, reading this who is also struggling, knows that we all have demons. We can all experience hard times. Like really, really hard times. What gets us through these hard times though is support. Acknowledge your feelings and emotions.
Surround yourself with positive people, do things that make you happy. Cut out the things that don’t.
I don’t have answers yet. That’s something that together with health professionals I’m working on. I don’t know where to from now. What I do know though is that categorically I am the 1 in 5 people that suffer from a mental illness. I am not ashamed about this. I am writing this in the hope that it prompts others experiencing mental health issues to also seek help.
And so my journey begins, who’s with me?
Posted by uniquemum, 29th October 2015