I am renowned, both personally and with those who look after my health, for being incredibly calm, compliant, patient and willing to try everything. But today I thought that might all change. I approached this session, as I do most, with intense apprehension: even after 3 months, I still don’t really have a feel for… Continue reading The Therapy Session I Almost Walked Out Of
Recently I’ve been fortunate enough to have some help in creating a lovely little space of my own, full of things to comfort, encourage and soothe me.
This picture of this magical safe place and my beautiful healing kitten, Hope, sums it up nicely:
I think that finding or developing a safe space is a really valuable tool for everyone struggling with their mental health. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy; it could even be as simple as a really soft blanket to wrap yourself in or somewhere where you can sit and mindfully listen to nature. It’s just about investing some time and thought in to being kind to yourself, developing a routine that encompasses this element of looking after yourself, and having one more thing to add to a crisis or safety plan.
I’d be really interested to hear about or see pictures of your ‘safe space’, or your thoughts on the topic!
Days of emotional, familial, cultural or religious importance can be painful for many; for some of those suffering with poor mental health, it can be downright unbearable. Perhaps the day serves to remind one of an absent, neglectful or abusive person; perhaps it intensifies loneliness; perhaps it triggers elements of illness such as flashbacks; perhaps… Continue reading The Pain of ‘Days’ (re: Fathers’ Day)
Currently, I’m struggling massively and am very unwell. I’ve started so many posts or thought of so much that I want to write about, but just haven’t been able. It’s a fight to see each hour through. It’s a fight to continue breathing. It’s a fight that I don’t know that I want to win.… Continue reading Without Hope and Too Unwell to Write
It can’t get much worse than that, right? At least you’re not wasting tissues. Wrong, it can get worse: the longest snot stalactite known to man could make an appearance, blowing in the wind until you have a snot scarf to match your tear balaclava. This is the glamorous reality of my life with mental… Continue reading Bum in a Puddle, Crying
Things are horrific. I am horrific. I want just a moment of peace. I want to give in. Emergency drug regime is making me feel permanently drunk, amnesiac, and exhausted. It’s completely necessary for my safety but I’m conscious of how it makes my existence even less real, that the sedation is just a stop-gap,… Continue reading Drugged Up and Despairing
One of the aspects of my mental ill health which I detest the most is my fragility. I fall apart – no, disintegrate – when even the smallest of things go awry. This morning went from off the charts anxiety, despair and suicidality to dissolving into non-functional panic when my psychologist phoned to let me… Continue reading Falling Apart at the Lightest Touch
Trigger warning: suicidal ideation (please take care!) Today my care coordinator saw me for the first time in what must be approaching two and a half months, after being unwell herself. It is no understatement to say that this woman is the reason I’m still breathing today, having somehow broken through those otherwise indestructible walls… Continue reading The Woman Responsible For Me Still Breathing