My niece Sophie and me

For most of the time I feel my life has been meaningless and directionless. It has lacked a sense of purpose. I often feel that I don’t make an impact and wonder why I even exist. I feel like I am constantly treading water. Waiting to see what happens next. But nothing ever does.

For the last few years I haven’t had a label attached to my name. I’ve not had a job title or been someone’s girlfriend for over four years. I’ve just been what I feel I always will be… A daughter, a sister and a friend…

However everything changed on the 23rd November 2011 when I was given a brand new role that I never really imagined I’d be good at. On this special day my sister gave birth to my niece Sophie Lily; making me an auntie for the first time ever.

A role that I’d never imagined taking to or actually being good at. I am not a maternal person. From an early age I’ve never had the desire to have any children myself. I am not the type of person to be worried about my biological clock ticking away. I think my clock biological clock is permanently on mute.

Throughout my sister’s pregnancy I was worried I wouldn’t be able to connect or interact with my niece or nephew when they were finally born because of my Borderline Personality Disorder and depression. I didn’t think I was up for the challenge of becoming an auntie.

I was convinced I would constantly let them down and not be what an auntie should be like. I had no clue about how to be an auntie as I was never really close with either of my aunties growing up.

But as soon as I first set eyes on Sophie at the hospital just hours after she was born, I instantly felt a connection with her and loved her so much. She was a part of my family; a new branch on her family tree. We would forever be connected.

I knew I wanted to be the best auntie possible. For the first time in my life I felt I was up for the challenge and felt ready to step into the unknown. Finally I had a purpose, to be the best auntie possible and not let her down.

It took me a while to feel confident about holding one so tiny as I was afraid of handling her incorrectly or making her cry by accident. She was so tiny and seemed so fragile. But when I did hold her, I loved it; watching her in my arms; making little movements and tiny snuffling sounds.

Each time I saw her I noticed subtle changes in her appearance. I looked forward to seeing how she’d grown in between visits. I loved watching her progress over the days, weeks and months; from being able to roll over, to crawling, to standing, to taking her first step to watching her confidently on her own. Once she was walking there was no stopping her. I felt so proud.

As she grow older our level of interaction increased. She started wanting to be picked up and played with. She would freely give me the best slobbery kisses and best hugs. When she started talking she couldn’t say Helen initially. So I was Auntie Helly, which always made me feel so loved when she said it.

She’s two now and even though she can say Helen, she still calls me Helly sometimes which makes me smile. She’s so independent and certainly her own person. Everything is now on her terms so when she does decide to give me a kiss or a hug it means the world to me.

When I’m struggling mentally and feel I’m surrounded by darkness, knowing I will see her at some point in the week keeps me going. Helping me hold things together and not letting my depression win. Seeing her always makes me temporarily forget whatever is weighing me down.

We even have our own little games we play together. Like ‘Where’s Sophie’ where I pretend not to be able to see her even though she’s right in front of me and start looking around the room for her. It usually ends with her wrapping her arms around my legs and screaming ‘I’m here!” We also enjoy a spot of peek-a-boo which we play in the back of my parents’ house or where we take turns hiding behind the side of her car seat.

Her unconditional love definitely turns my frown upside down. She is my natural anti-depressant. One of her cheeky smiles can send a surge of warmth and happiness through my body. I love coming home when I know my sister and niece are visiting. As soon as I open the front door I am always greeted by Sophie gleefully calling out ‘Helen!’.

In the past when I’ve been on the brink of despair, I’ve felt there’s been nothing holding me back. But since Sophie was born, I’ve felt she has anchored me, stopped me doing anything stupid that I couldn’t come back from. In a way I think she’s why I’ve made progress with my mental health over the last six months. She makes me want to keep fighting; to keep on going.

I want to keep living so I can watch her grow up and enjoy life. I want to always be a part of her life. Share all her milestones and create valuable memories with her that I will cherish forever. She makes me want to be a stronger and better.

I want her to grow up and be proud of her Auntie Helen.

My Story

I don’t remember much about my school years. My mind seems have blocked out that time. I seem to only remember snippets of bad memories related to school which always haunt me. I liked school in terms of learning but I struggled with making friends and maintaining friendships. I would definitely say I was socially awkward as a child and I am still to this day, though I’ve now been diagnosed with social phobia. 

Friends seemed to best friends with me one minute and then someone else would become their new best friend and I was no longer wanted as a friend at all. In fact they would decide that they hated me and would make this public knowledge. I never knew why people hated me, all I wanted was to be their friend and share fun times with them.

In primary school I preferred to tidy classrooms instead of playing in the playground with other children and in secondary school I became a library assistant and spent my lunches amongst books. I remember my parents were asked to visit the school and were advised that I should spend more time socialising and less time studying at home. I’d come home from school, have dinner and then study till bed.

In the sixth form I was bullied by girls because I didn’t fit in.  I've been a Tomboy for as long as I can remember, not a girly girl. They’d pretend to like me one week and the next they’d make my life a living hell. They’d make lies up and spread them around the common room. The ring leader was ironically the first girl I made friends with on my first day at secondary school. She was the definition of a fair-weather friend.

The first time I would say I became depressed was when a school friend with special needs died during the school holidays. My fair-weather friend was the person who told me he’d died. I remember she seemed amused by the news. I developed an issue with food and started to skip eating whilst I was at school. I’d buy food like sweets and crisps with my lunch money (I was supposed to get hot dinners) and hide them in my locker or give them to other pupils. I remember a teacher wanted me to ‘talk’ to someone about how I was feeling but I always made excuses and dodged the meetings. Looking back at sixth form photos that have appeared on Facebook I looked like a human lollypop. This look lasted well into my years at university. I thought I looked perfectly normal. 

I met my first proper boyfriend when I was in sixth form. He was a few years older. I think I went out with him partly because everyone else was dating. I wanted to fit in. I always felt I was not good enough and that I was my boyfriend’s booby prize. These feelings still stick with me now and I think it’s why to a degree I self-sabotage relationships. When I was preparing for my first year exams at university my boyfriend cheated on me. I met my next boyfriend during my second year at university he was in the same year but studying a different course. We had a good year together, but then everything changed.

My university course involved a placement year during the third year. My placement was in Bedford miles away from my family, boyfriend and friends in Hertfordshire. I lived in Bedford during the week and went home on Friday’s for the weekend. I struggled with the placement as I didn’t like the job or being away from everyone I loved. But I didn’t tell anyone. I pulled away from my boyfriend and would often hide in his room when I visited him on weekends instead of socialising with him and his housemates. I felt like a stranger. I’d cry for hours and not be able to tell him why I was crying. We started to argue lots.

I had my first breakdown in 2003 whilst still on my placement. Everyone was unaware that I was crumbling inside and I was not coping. My dad would drive me back to Bedford Sunday afternoons and I would pretend to be fine. As soon as my dad dropped me off I’d cry my eyes out for hours. My boyfriend struggled with my volatile behaviour and dumped me when my insecurities and paranoia got the better of me and I accused him of cheating. I felt like my life was spiralling out of control.

A few days later I made the decision to end my life. I went to work in the morning knowing that I wanted to kill myself when I got home that afternoon. At work I sent my ex and my best friend suicide emails My ex managed to get hold of my dad at work and filled him in on everything and my dad immediately contacted my Manager. The cat was officially out of the bag and I ended up finishing my work placement earlier than planned and sent home.
Once home I was sent to my GP, diagnosed with depression, given antidepressants and referred for counselling. At the time I felt like my GP dished out antidepressants like they are sweets and in a way I still feel like that. I managed to go back to university and complete my degree even though my heart wasn’t in it anymore.  I had counselling for two years though I am not too sure it helped. After university I had a few jobs but always struggled dealing with customers whether it was on the phone or in person.

A few years later I was diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS)/ M.E. Early 2008 I had my second breakdown and was referred to my local CMHT. Initially I saw the CAT team for a few weeks and then I was referred to a psychiatrist who diagnosed me with clinical depression and mixed anxiety disorder. I believe the breakdown was triggered by the combination of my mental health problems and physical diagnosis and the breakdown of the relationship I had been in. My boyfriend didn’t seem to like the fact I had CFS and was put on medications that lead me to gain weight. During the last six months of our relationship he changed and mentally abused me. But I didn’t tell anyone I believed the deterioration of our relationship was my fault. He dumped me a few months after being made redundant and I haven’t had a serious boyfriend ever since.

When I am in relationships I seem to lose my identity and become really self-conscious, have low self-esteem and feel like I’m not good enough for them. Nowadays I feel like I am not able to be in a relationship because I don’t think a guy would accept me for who I am with my mental health problems and all my baggage.

Over the years my mental health diagnosis has changed from being clinicaldepression to Bipolar Disorder (type 2) to my current diagnosis Borderline Personality Disorder. I was also diagnosed with Social Phobia and OCD tendencies.  I definitely feel I fit the diagnosis of BPD better than any other diagnosis I have been given. Other the years I have been treated as a day patient at my hospitals mental health services for therapy,  and I had a Care Co-ordinator for a while and seen a Psychologist. Currently I am seeing a Psychiatrist every few months and seeing a Psychologist on a bi-weekly basis. Due to funding I no longer have a Care Co-ordinator since my previous one left in September 2012.

For the last few years I have been attending my local branch of Mind to do short courses and on-going classes (Pottery and Yoga) but before my Care Co-ordinator left she encouraged me to look into evening classes at my local college.

I signed up to attend a Creative Writing class one evening at college during the summer term last year. I’d always enjoyed creative writing since I was little. My earliest memory of creative writing was writing short stories about my teddy bears during my school holidays. Over the years I kept trying to write stories but always found myself stopping as I lacked confidence in my writing and felt self-conscious. No one would ever read my stories so what was the point in writing. As soon as I started the Creative Writing course I felt like I was given the skills and tools to work on my creative writing as a hobby.

My tutor would give the class buzz words to write prose pieces about and I found myself using the buzz words to write about my mental health. I started writing more prose pieces about my mental health struggles which I found very therapeutic. I started to be known as the dark and twisty writer in my class.

Encouraged by my tutor and class mates’ feedback on my work I decided to create this blog for my prose writing on mental health. I hoped that people would be able to relate to my feeling about my mental health struggles and find comfort in my words and experiences. I hope that my blog will help reduce the stigma that is associated with mental health and help sufferers feel better about themselves. I also believe that families and friends of sufferers might benefit from reading my blog.

A month ago I decided to take to Twitter (invisiblyflawed) and contact Mental Health charities about my blog in the hopes of helping others. I recently wrote the hardest prose piece that I will ever write which I called Pearls of Wisdom from the Future. It was a letter I wrote to my 20 year self after I had my first breakdown 10 years ago this March. It was basically a pep talk from the future, telling my younger self that things will get better even though it may not feel like it at the time. I think the letter helped me get some closure.

I have continued going to college for my creative writing class, which is now a community led group the first for our college. As well as working on my prose work I have started writing a novel/book about a girl with Borderline Personality who up sticks and moves counties to start her life over again, where no one knows about her past and mental health problems. It’s a work in progress but I feel that I can do it with the support of my family and friends.

Living Under a Raincloud

I’ve been living under my own personal unwanted rain cloud for ten years and counting. It looms over me when I’m awake, tormenting me like a creature from a Grimm Fairy tale. It sinisterly controls my feelings and thoughts. Like I am a puppet and it is the puppet master.

Even when the sun is shining when I’m outside, I’m unable to appreciate it. As my rain cloud stubbornly hovers over me. Preventing me from enjoying the warmth and happiness it brings other lucky people. Sunshine can’t give me rays of light relief. Instead my rain cloud drenches me with rain drops of doom and gloom.

Each tiny little rain drop hits me with great force. Like someone is punching me in the stomach each time. Each punch triggers negative, obsessive, self-doubting, hopeless thoughts which overwhelm and numb me. It makes it hard to think straight. Let alone function like a normal human being.

The rain drops also wash away any colour from me and my clothes. Turning me into a monochrome person. Like a character from the film Pleasantville.  A black and white photocopy of my former self. Suppressing happy thoughts and emotions.

Once in a blue moon I look up and my rain cloud isn’t there causing me to think that it might have left me for good. I start to feel lighter and freer. But it doesn’t last. It never does. The rain cloud slowly creeps back across the sky. Polluting my mind.

I long for someone to rescue me. My Knight in Shining armour. Armed with a leaf blower to permanently relieve me of my life sucking rain cloud and fill the sky above me with fluffy white clouds and crystal clear blue sky. We would bathe in the warmth of the sun together and I would be filled with hope and happiness.

But I doubt I will be rescued. I’ve been waiting for over a third of my life and it hasn’t happened. I don’t think anyone will be up for the challenge.

So I think for the foreseeable future, it’s just going to be me and my cloud.

What fun will that be.

Mirror vs. me

Mirrors are my enemy. I hate all mirrors and anything that can hold my reflection in it.  If by accident I get a glimpse of my reflection, it sends a chill down my spine.  I don’t recognise the person who stares back at me, it’s not me. It’s not me anymore; it hasn’t been me for years. Maybe even ten years when depression got a hold of me, paving the way for more illnesses in years to come.

My eyes don’t sparkle anymore since M.E and depression sucked the life out of them.  They now look lifeless and empty. I have a permanent big dark circle round each eye, making me resemble a washed out panda,  now grey and white not black and white.

The skin that holds my face together is dull, pale and even translucent. My freckles now look like abandoned old smudges when painters are trying to get the right colour brown for a painting. My lips sport a constant frown and my frown is hardly ever turned upside down.

My lips are littered with bite marks,  a sign of my anxiety. I can gnaw away on my lips for minutes without realising it. I like it when my lips are sore, the tingling makes me feel alive inside, when I spend most of the time feeling like I’m part of the walking dead.

My face is no longer slender and long, not since I became ill with M.E and depression. Medication I take daily causes weight gain. Not taking them is not an option, so I can never win. My youthful face is now round, swollen and puffy. I feel like it has doubled in size like a football. 

I don’t like the new me, I look like a complete stranger, a tortured, lonely creature. Like someone has replaced me with a shadow of my former self. To be honest, I didn’t like the old me, but at least it was familiar, a reflection I recognised. I don’t recognise me now, and I don’t think I ever will. It’s just a horrible reminder of my life before illnesses took over my mind and body. It’s always someone else staring back at me in the mirror.

So mirrors are not my friends, they are my enemies and I doubt this will change.

Depression

When depression gets you its in every cell of your body, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head.

It sucks the life out of you from the inside out, making you feel hollow like a cheap chocolate Easter egg which starts to crack when touched.

It lingers on your every word when you speak, gushing out of your mouth like a cloud of invisible black smoke that only you can see.

It lives inside your brain like a parasite and suffocates any positive thought, memory and feeling with its spider-like tentacles. The parasite screams out every negative thought like a walling banshee that only you can hear.

It makes your heart feel like its empty and shrievelled making you unable to love and care for anything. Your heart beats so slow, you start to think you are a member of the walking dead.

Depression is here to stay and makes you forget who you were before it gets to you.

Pearls of wisdom from the future

Dear 20 year old self,

I thought I’d send you a letter as I know things have been extremely tough recently and you’re currently in the midst of your first breakdown and simply breathing and existing seems utterly challenging at the moment.

I know you wished that people hadn’t interrupted your ‘grand’ plans a few weeks ago and you are angry at everyone around you because they didn’t let you go. But they did the right thing if you didn’t realise it and you won’t do for years to come. But I promise you will, it will just take time. You need to stop believing that everyone will be better off with you being dead, because it’s not true.

At the moment you are cross with a lot of people particularly our parents. You may think they are smothering and mollycoddling, but this is their way of showing you that they care, support and love you. Yes, it might be hard to comprehend but they do love you, whether you choose to believe it or not.  Every parent loves their children even if they don’t say it to them every day.

Even though it was us who had the breakdown, they had to cope and deal with the aftermath. There wasn’t an ‘Idoit’s Guide’ available that covers how to cope when your child wants to end her life and has a breakdown. There’s no list of do’s and don’ts that they could follow to make things easier. They did their best, they tried to manage the situation as best as they could.

It must have been extra hard for them as they had to look after our sisters as well as look after me. They have to and still have to juggle their love and share it between the three of us. If they didn’t love you they wouldn’t have taken time off work to look after you during the day so you weren’t on your own. Do you think you would have had the courage to go to all your doctors and counselling appointments on your own under your own steam?

I know you think it’s the end of the world that your relationship with him didn’t work out, but you will find love again, though watch out as there probably will be a few more relationship bumps in the road over the next few years. Everyone finds break ups hard, but people don’t die from a  breakup or even a broken heart.

Just because you were doesn’t mean you are undateable and that you can’t be loved. Everyone knows it takes two to tango but it also takes two to make a relationship work. It wasn’t working, you hardly saw each other and you were growing apart because you were working in different counties during the week.

Towards the end when you were together you just argued or didn’t speak to each other at all. You started to shut him out as well as everyone else and he didn’t even notice. It wasn’t the best idea to send that fateful text when you accused him of cheating on you. Just because our first proper boyfriend cheated on you doesn’t mean every boyfriend after him will cheat on you. Not everyone is a cheater.

There is a guy out there for you, but you will only find him when you stop looking. Your friends will always tell you that you will met a guy when you least expect it and even though it hasn’t happened yet, it will do one day. But you need to change how you are and how you act when you are in a relationship. Guys do not find it attractive when you constantly refer to yourself the booby prize, it makes them sound like they have low standards and no taste and it can make them doubt the relationship.

When you start a relationship don’t change who you are so you turn into someone who you think they would prefer. Don’t let any boyfriend control you and what you do. Letting them control you means you lose yourself and what makes you  gets lost. You become a version of yourself that you think they will love more. But remember they started dating you for who you are. They were attracted to you, they chose you. There must have been something about you that caught their eye. Don’t doubt why they like you, just accept it. Don’t let your constant insecurities ruin your relationships.

I know you think that having a boyfriend will validate your existence but it’s not the case. It’s ok to be single, it doesn’t make you less of a person than any of your friends who are in relationships.

I know you find friendships really difficult especially after how you were treated throughout school. You have to learn that some friends come and go, but true friends will stay in your life. Remember this: good friends are like stars, you don’t always see them, but you know they’re always there. True friends will see who you really are and stick by you during bad times.

I know we struggle with control but starving yourself so you can shrink yourself to a size 6 is not the best way of gaining control. It’s not healthy and will only worry everyone around you. Being a lolly person and wearing children’s clothes is not a good look and pictures of you like this will haunt you forever. Try finding other things that you can control about your body, like the colour of your hair and nails.

You will still have body issues for your rest of your life but you need to accept that no one is completely happy with their body. If people say they are happy, then they are lying. Focus on the things you like about your body and not the things you don’t like. After all these years you still don’t love yourself, but you are slowly learning to like yourself.

For the rest of your life you will be battling with your mental health problems, collecting different diagnoses as you go. You will never be cured at some point in the future you will slowly learn to live with your mental health problems. It may feel like the doctors give out antidepressants like they were sweets but they know what they are doing. If they don’t think medication is working they will change what you are on so they can find what suits you.

Try and find the positives about having mental health problems, such as the people you will meet on your journey who also have mental health problems. Meeting these people will help you feel less alone. Remember quite a few famous people had mental health problems; such as Vincent Van Gough, Sylvia Plath and Winston Churchill so you are in good company. You need to learn to stop bottling things up and actually talk to people about how you are feeling. Bottling things up makes you feel a lot worse and you turn into a ticking time bomb.

I hope this letter is of some comfort to you and makes you feel a little better and less alone. I will leave you with one more piece of advice, which you should always remember: Just move forwards and don’t live in the past.

Love,

30 year old self x

Darkness

I think my mind is full of my own personal darkness, which grabs hold of my brain with its large claw like hands and tries to squeeze out all the good in my mind.

The darkness that fills my mind is my depression which initially was an unwelcome friend, but now is more like a friendly foe.

I’m used to the darkness lingering, polluting my mind creeping into every existing though that lives in my mind and planting seeds of darkness in new thoughts and feelings, tainting them leaving inky fingerprints wherever it goes.

Darkness is really a constant friend, whispering in my ear planting seeds of doubt and turning positive things into negative and paranoid things. Darkness clings to me and it's always one step behind me like my second shadow, which I can only see.

But people can see glimpses of my darkness in my eyes, as they don’t sparkle anymore, like they used to before the depression came to stay. The darkness lingers in my pupils, making them look like two bottomless pools.

The darkness is here to stay I’m afraid.