A NEW START

As I start my new life at university I have been reflecting on my progress and the course of what has turned out to be the most difficult and challenging year of my life so far.

The year began in a state of great turmoil and destructive energy that saw me plunge into the depths of depression and psychosis. This frenetic and overwhelming period then segued into months of absolute despondency and inertia: I hardly moved or left the house for days, even weeks, on end.

My obsession with myself reached new heights and I hardly thought about anyone or anything else. I had unwittingly forfeited everything positive and life-affirming in exchange for a miserable existence which consisted of endless mental pain and torturous, depressive periods of rumination. As the elements that had hitherto defined my life (work, friends, physical activity etc.) slowly ebbed away, so there became more and more space for my own brain to expand and fold in upon itself, until I was all that I was left with.

My sole focus became this internal world that I inhabited and I fantasised about an ideal image of myself that I could never attain. I became my own jailor for not being the ‘me’ I should be- the version of myself that I felt so painfully and acutely whenever I looked in the mirror- and consequently felt so steeped in the repercussions of my flaws and failings that I adamantly believed there could be no ‘redemption’. In other words I did not think that I could ever learn to value myself.

Rather arrogantly, at this point in time, I thought that I had reached a true, more intellectualised (albeit wretched) state of being. I believed that happiness and meaning were just illusions that people, ignorant or otherwise, distracted themselves with, whilst I was seeing and experiencing life for what it really was.  

As well as being depressed, I was in the grips of something like an existential crisis. Having questioned life and finding that there was no fixed or inherent meaning in it other than that which you create yourself, I refused to participate in it. It was all just a silly scripted game! No longer a player, I resigned myself to this ‘true’ way of living. I can think of a no less sinister description of my life at this point other than comparing it to a hollow echoing chamber where the only sound was of my own internal angst.

While it is part of human nature that we create beliefs and systems of making sense of the world and of ourselves, if these are negative and continually reinforced they can lead us to become fatally blinkered and stuck in states of self-delusion. With time, a lot of determined thought and teasing out of ingrained behaviours, I have rejected this fruitless and utterly exhausting quest for meaning in exchange for actual meaning- and whether the universe (as if it even feigned to care!) designates it as real or not I no longer care.

Replacing the emptiness and loneliness with people and progress feels wonderful. I try not to always look too deeply in search of answers. After waiting for billions of years, and spending 21 years in the world, I feel as though I have only really just woken up to it. Of course I have bad days, everyone does, but I have started to be able to put these into perspective and then let go. I love going to university each day and making friends- there are so many interesting and lovely people it would be selfish not to devote time and energy to those around me. And in the process of doing this I have stopped looking for such high levels of self-perfection- after all, I don’t demand them of anyone else.

Self-discovery is a difficult process- and you may not always like what you find! - but I am grateful to be here and finally accept responsibility for my life being what I choose to make of it. 

I am going through a difficult time. I will be back soon.

VLOG: RECOVERY

HOSPITAL

I am sorry to say that I took an overdose last night. It was unintentional and I did not realise the extent of my pill consumption until it was too late and I had to be admitted to hospital. It was a harrowing experience and I am lucky I did not do any permanent damage to myself. Recovery oscillates between the ups and downs and I want to be honest and open about some of the unpleasant consequences a mental health condition can have. Thank you for all the messages of support- they have been an inestimable help.   

COLOURS

In previous posts I neglected to mention the important fact that a little over a week ago I made the decision to come off all medication (Sertraline 100mg and Olanzapine 15mg). The effects of this are starting to become evident, as I feel the world starting to shift back into place. 

I no longer feel drained as though I am living in a zombie-like state. I am starting to feel a greater spectrum of emotions, and the impact of every one, whether high or low, is joyous to me. It is like having my full field of colour restored after living in a monochromatic state for weeks on end. I spoke to my mum on the phone yesterday and she noted that my voice is starting to sound more tonal and expressive. 

It is hard for me to describe the sensations occurring, as they have crept up so gradually it is difficult to detect shift or change unless I step back and analyse my thoughts and moods over a more significant period of time. 

I will use this colour analogy to try and illustrate it. 

At times, when the chemicals or signals in my brain are not functioning properly, the world becomes a nightmarish cacophony of colours, all clashing discordantly with one another. They are bright and overwhelming, skewing my vision. At other times, the world is leeched of all its brightness and vividness and cast into sombre hues, all the life seeping out of it- and me.

Now, it is like the grass is becoming green again, the sky blue. Everything is starting to look more.. normal. I can attribute this partly to the absence of synthetic chemicals in my body, as their effects were powerful and emotionally numbing. Time, also, is a key factor in this. I could not have made this transition off my medication a month ago. 

Each tentative step or lurch forward I take, however painful, brings me to where I am now, and, crucially, I am starting to accept my present self. As I have found, there is no passion to be found in living in the past- it is the surest way to negatively alter present meaning and lose sight of yourself. So I am trying to discover the hope and enjoyment in life, while accepting that there is also a lot of frustration and disappointment. My attitude is starting to shift, and hopefully in time my life will become a reflection of that. 

'Action may not always bring happiness; but there is no happiness without action'. Benjamin Disraeli

HOW LONELY ARE YOU?

'It is not the strongest of the species that survives, or the most intelligent, but rather the one most adaptable to change.' Charles Darwin

I have left the confines of Winchester to come and pay a visit to my grandparents in Baldock, to 'rehabulate' (rehabilitate) me, as my grandad put it. We detoured via the scenic roads, which in retrospect was not a good idea, as the bucolic views were not worth the 4 hour car journey! 

Leaving Winchester was difficult, especially since I have not done so for several months. Even my walks around the city rarely deviate from my well-established routes. This inevitably means that I am quite alone a lot of the time. I was reading an article the other day on loneliness and its effects on mental health and it got me thinking..

Although my solitude is self-imposed and punishing, I find social interaction very difficult. I am not sure how much this time spent in my own company I really truly enjoy, and how much can be attributed to the convenience of retreating into old routines and the sense of comfort this brings. In my mind this keeps me safe. I often find that I am ready, but not willing, to step out of my comfort zone and try something new.

So why not simply take the plunge and go out more? After all, if you always do what you have always done, you will always get what you have always got. In other words, change is essential. I believe human interaction must contribute to our mental wellbeing, as too much time spent on one's own can easily lead to over-thinking and analysing past events- a clear recipe for anguish and self-reprobation! That doesn't mean we need hoards of friends. There is no such thing as objective isolation. It is quite possible to have just a few close friends and to not feel isolated or lonely. 

I think the problem lies somewhere within the labyrinthine entanglement of my innate introversion and mental health difficulties. I will never be the gregarious type or the life of a party, but once you cut yourself off from people it is astonishing how quickly you can adapt in order to cope and loose touch with 'regular' social states and perceptions. Making conversation becomes arduous, and even messaging friends can feel challenging. This is a self-enforcing negative cycle, which played its part in the depression that drew my university life to a halt.

I consider this trip to my grandparents as a first step. Hopefully I can reconnect with some of that sociability I have lost over the months and years. I apologise to those I have let down due to my propensity to disengage with the world. I can only hope to make amends and aim to re-establish some of the social ties I have let slip. 

Take the UCLA loneliness test: http://psychcentral.com/quizzes/loneliness.htm
I scored 37. 

SUICIDAL IDEATION

I have a very difficult relationship with this term, which is also a classic symptom of depression.

Suicidal ideation is the epitomisation of utter hopelessness. It is when you find that you have developed an intransigent preoccupation with death. Your own death in particular. Thoughts or fantasies about suicide rule your conscious mind, perhaps most of your waking moments. Death seems like the ultimate and only form of relief to your suffering. Your brain is a destitute, baron wasteland and death is a beautiful red rose.

You may find yourself making a detailed plan, which becomes a perverse source of comfort. 'Just think of the ways how and when. It would solve everything.' insists a voice in your head. Because when all else is gone, when no one else is left, no matter what happens, you will always have your plan. Over time it has become less of a symptom and more of a control mechanism.

Suicidal ideation is my default mode of thought, seemingly hard-wired into me. It is something I find hard to 'turn off', as it is a simple, last-call answer to all of life's painfulness and perplexity. Thoughts of death can be consoling at difficult times despite their isolating and desolate nature. However, as my mum rightly reminds me, they are not natural. 

Life is natural, essential, instinctive. 

Death is the foreign, pernicious and unwelcome stranger in my mind. It is intrusive and destructive, but also very compelling. Instead of indulging these thoughts and letting them grow, I think of three good things that have happened in my day. I'm trying to start replacing them. Develop a new habit. It's important to remind myself that good things do happen to me but that chronic, mechanical part of my head has been over-ruling them. Recovery begins with many little first steps such as this.

VLOG: FEELING DOWN

LOOKS CAN BE DECEIVING

Mental illness can be covert and concealed. You may not be able to know that 

                             someone has depression when you meet them.

INTO ADULTHOOD WE GO..

It is the hardest thing, for me, to realise that I have grown out of my childhood- or that childhood has left me- and irrevocably entered the dominion of the adult world. It occurred to me today, although not for the first time, that my problems with mental health such as depression and anorexia are quite regressive in their own ways. They both express a dissatisfaction and denial of the 'self' and put one in a state of acute, child-like vulnerability (anorexia physically embodies this). They are backwards-looking, forestalling adulthood and acceptance of the present or future- pulling you in one direction while life goes in another.

This struggle can threaten to tear you apart, lest you begin to accept the direction of life, which inevitably leads to responsibility, maturity, and sometimes pain and anguish. I feel caught in a binary position, as I find self-acceptance a very unpalatable choice and constantly battle against it, simultaneously being aware that this is also a first and essential step to recovery.

CAN ANYONE GET DEPRESSION?

I wish I had a lucid answer to this question. Perhaps it would be more pertinent to look at what exactly do we mean by depression? For although this illness of the mind is both widespread and diagnosable, it also has an ambiguous side to its nature with various symptoms and levels of severity.

Depression to me seems to exist on a sliding scale. Its impact can be mild, moderate or life-changing. I have been up and down on this spectrum, the latter leading to my experience of psychosis, whereby my mind could not cope with the intensity of the depression and consequently lost contact with reality.

I think vast swathes of the population experience something along the gradation of the depressive scale. However I do not believe (fortunately) that everyone has the capacity to develop the kind of severe depression which turns your world upside down. I always found it peculiar how some people, in circumstances so destitute, could also possess such an animate and positive nature, whilst others such as myself, despite my auspicious situation in life, struggle on a day to day basis.

This is where I think genetic variables come into play. As a child I was never as quiet and even-tempered as my sister. I displayed signs of erratic and difficult behaviour. I had many fits and tantrums and a different way of looking at the world, and also, critically, at myself. It feels almost innate- like a seed of depression was planted in me at birth, and over time I have given it the right conditions to grow and strengthen, to sprout its perennially destructive branches into all corners of my mind.

I wish I had a naturally ebullient character and optimistic way of looking at the world, but I 
fear that even with persistent training and much willpower I will forever remain a bit of a cynical and scornful soul. This also means I will always have to watch my steps, as I have this inherent propensity to fall into entropy and depression. In some ways I shall consistently fall under the moniker, 'depressive'. Despite time moving forwards, I live much of my life backwards, haunting myself with my own memories, looking over my shoulder and agonising. 

However, the darker periods have made me more conscious and appreciative of how wonderful life is when the sun is shining and things seem to be going my way. Then, suddenly, life seems to connect, or I connect with life, and I am able to briefly understand and experience for myself the happiness of others. 

What are your thoughts on this topic?

VIDEO BLOG: MENTAL HEALTH AND MEDICATION

MY SUPPORT

This post is dedicated to my gran, Barbara, who is the most amazing woman. She has generously given up her own time to live temporarily in our home so that I am not alone and have support throughout the day. She has helped me in so many ways and constantly encourages me to live life outside the parameters of my own existence. For this I am eternally grateful. And to all my grandparents, who have been there to pick up the phone at times when I am in need, I love you lots. 

At one of our daily M&S tea breaks

The City of Winchester

WORDS OF WISDOM

Only by acceptance of the past will you alter it's meaning. T.S Eliot

Hell is empty, and all the devils are here. William Shakespeare  

In a real dark night of the soul, it is always three o'clock in the morning. F. Scott Fitzgerald

What saves a man is to take a step. Then another step. It is always the same step, but you have to take it. Antoine de Saint-Exupery

One must learn to love oneself with a wholesome and healthy love, so that one can bear to be with oneself and need not roam. Friedrich Nietzsche 

We don't receive wisdom; we must discover it for ourselves after a journey that no one can take for us or spare us. Marcel Proust 

If there is a sin against life, it consists perhaps not so much in despairing of life as in hoping for another life and in eluding the implacable grandeur of this life. Albert Camus

BULIMIA'S HIDDEN POWERS

Now this is going to be a tough one to write about. I can hardly get my head around it. I can hardly even say the word. I want to pretend it doesn't exist. So this might be short..

The reality of bulimia is so physical and traumatic that it makes it particularly challenging to talk about. Whether it is self-induced or due to a virus, one cannot deny that being sick is a terrible experience. For this reason bulimia has acutely grievous connotations and is steeped in stigma, shame and secrecy. Furthermore, it is hard to understand the compulsions that drive this illness as it seems to go against natural human instinct to make oneself sick. Why would anyone assault themselves in such a way? 

However bulimia revolves around the cycle of guilt, shame and self-hatred. For me, bulimia is strongly linked with my own perspective and judgements of myself- which are always that I am inadequate. Purging, then, literally and figuratively gets rid of all that is abject and 'wrong' with me. It is a perverse form of punishment and self-retribution that in fact only reinforces the bad feelings behind the illness, providing further reasons and a catalyst for being sick again. 

So as you can see, as a habit forming illness, bulimia has the potential to hold a tyrannical power over the mind. It can become almost like an addiction that spirals out of control. I hope other sufferers can read and relate to this, and realise that they are not alone. I am on the road to recovery, but there have been slip ups and pitfalls along the way- perhaps with more to come. I try not to believe the diatribe of negative comments belonging to the critic in my head. My aim is always to be well and do the best I can with the awareness I have at the present moment. 

However, if I am honest, there is a part of me that still likes giving in to the temptation to be self-hating rather than act in accordance with my values. It takes an enormous amount of willpower to overcome an opponent as strong and emotionally compelling as bulimia (or any other mental health illness). This is my struggle. 

WHAT ARE YOU GRATEFUL FOR?

It appears to be an unfortunate and somewhat ill-fated part of my personality that I have a strong inclination to focus of the negative aspects of life. I say that this facet of my character is inevitable because there is a history of depression in my immediate family which may, by degree, have predisposed me to depression. 

I certainly have to make a concerted effort to realise and appreciate the many things I take for granted. Nothing can ever be perfect-  and the world is inexorably flawed- but there are some things that illuminate some of life's darker shades. 

So, in no particular order, here is my rudimentary list of things I am thankful for (which I shall be adding to over the weeks): 

1. A safe house and living environment. 
2. Exceptionally supportive parents.
3. My two beautiful and adoring sisters.
4. My dog, Polo! 
5. Educational and extra-curricular opportunities at a fantastic university.
6. Two sets of loving grandparents.
7. Friends and acquaintances that offer compassionate support and have shown understanding when I am down.
8. Access to mental health care.
9. Freedom of speech and expression.
10.The positive response I have received from people who have been reading my blog. 

Sisterly Love and laughter

What things in life are you grateful for? 

THANK YOU

Thank you all for your support so far and helping me to reach 2000+ page views!

PSYCHOSIS

Psychosis: noun. a severe mental disorder in which thought and emotions are so impaired that contact is lost with external reality.

I think this is a pertinent and yet somewhat incomplete definition of psychosis- at least in my personal case- which only began this year. 

It has never been something I have understood before or, to be honest, taken much interest in. I previously thought that illnesses such as this only happened to other people. I am sorry to say that in my ignorance I linked psychosis with a diatribe of negative associations, such as madness, delusion and insanity. 

While it is true that during my psychotic episodes these terms appositely describe some of the behaviours that I exhibit, they are conjointly and unjustly laden with prejudicial connotations which leave no space for the compassion and understanding needed to help sufferers with recovery. 

Psychosis does not mean that you are a mad, dangerous or volatile person. As with depression, I cannot adequately put into words the actual perception of this abstract mental state, but I can attempt to illustrate a little of its nature. 

Psychosis hits when one has mentally pierced through the ceiling of reality, only to reach the apex of existential angst which feels like a vast, vacuous and unfathomable blankness. When this happened to me I thought that the world was just a computer game and people were players in it, or that I was possessed and living in my own game. In other words, life was like a waking dream.  

Recently, I have found that walking and nature have had a therapeutic effect on my mind, as well as reminding myself of the things in life I am most grateful for. Unfortunately in my case I also need medication to recover-  in some instances, the power of psychosis and depression is far too overwhelming to face alone. It would be like entering a battle with no weapons or armoury- although finding the correct medication has been a struggle in itself with many unpleasant twists and turns along the way. More on that later..

I am happy to say things seem more settled as of late (which means I have had a couple of stable days). Let's hope that the good feelings continue and that my writing is helping others to understand more about mental illness and how to help others in recovery. 

WALKING IS THERAPY

St. Catherine's Hill, Winchester

Winchester Cathedral

THE PROBLEM WITH FOOD

It seems to me symptomatic of the current noxious, damaging and unhealthy societal attitude towards food that, for a large proportion of the population- myself included- what we choose to put in our mouths pervades our thoughts endlessly. Over time, growing up and entering the adult world, I have ever increasingly endowed food with emotional rather than functional qualities, to the point where my chaotic diet and food 'rules' carry the symbolic burden of the atrophic relationship I have with my own body image.

This love-hate relationship that I have with food began in my early teenage years. A trigger in the form of a life event was all it took to act as the catalyst that resulted in years of living in a cycle of feast and famine. This also included categorising foods into groups that are virtuous and sinful, reproaching myself for food 'crimes', a lot of emotional (not to mention physical) pain, and lamentation of all the lost time that I could instead have used to make friends and be out laughing and living life.

Food should be about enjoyment, energy and nutrition. Instead it is often about control, shame and self-esteem. I have noticed a general dichotomy of attraction and repulsion towards food within our society- I expect many of you will have experienced this for yourselves. Ultimately this results in a state where we become detached and desensitised from the instinctive and nutritional health needs of our own bodies, replaced by fluctuating and emotionally driven eating habits that only further reinforce the antagonism we feel towards food and our physical appearance.

One of my next blog posts is going to feature the terrifying illness which is bulimia. Although anorexia is also a topic of unease that I will cover, nevertheless it attracts a lot of media coverage- spurred on by the pernicious gossip magazines that seem horribly engrossed and fascinated with the amount of fat on the bodies of female 'celebs'. The effects of anorexia are also quite perceptible, as the body suffers from drastic weight loss and the mind becomes drained of energy for speech.

Bulimia on the other hand has always felt to me more of a taboo topic as it involves repeated and compulsive episodes of traumatic physical sickness, which are in themselves quite upsetting and usually remain hidden and out of sight. I don't think anyone walking down the street would be able to detect that I have had bulimia at any stage in my life. It gains its addictive powers by being an insidious and secretive disease of the mind.

However, there is hope out there for sufferers and I hope by talking about it others will not feel so alone. 

WHAT DEPRESSION FEEL LIKE

It is quite normal but most unfortunate that without personal experience of depression it can be troublesome to understand. Some people even consider it a bit self-indulgent or a lifestyle choice- of course, it is anything but. 

So I thought I would try and describe, to the best of my abilities, what depression feels like. Depression is ultimately ineffable: there is no language or diction that can accurately pin down this most terrible of mental states, but nonetheless I will have a go. 

When severe depression hits it is like a viral infection that takes over your whole body. It becomes debilitating because your limbs become dead weights and your mind is overcast with oppressive thoughts. It really does take over your entire being and reduces you to the feeling of abject worthlessness, sucking out all meaning from your life and feeding on it. Having depression gives the impression that there is something dark and arcane lurking within you, revolving around the perimeters of your brain, just out of reach of your conscious mind so that you cannot control it. 

Sometimes, when the pain is so intense that it becomes unbearable, it feels as though your mind is being tortured. When I hit my low points I found that I could not even bear my thoughts no matter what they were- not because of their harsh and hopeless nature, but because they signalled my existence at a time where I did not want to be alive. Sadly, just breathing gave me a sense of anguish. 

These feelings that depression induce are so harrowing and excruciating- and the depressive part of your brain wants you to believe that change is not possible, that it will be like this forever. However, it is good to know that moods are a bit like the weather, and nothing can linger for too long without some form of change. And even if it is just an iota of difference, it can be enough to keep you going.  

Where there is life, there is hope! Depression is a canny beast, but it can be beaten.

NATURE: MY PANACEA

I find that spending time in the physical world around me- creating moments that grant stunning views such as this- anodyne some of life's worries. 

THE BEGINNING: WHERE I'M AT

I thought I would start by stating the truth, which is that I really resent the state that I'm in. I am all too aware of all the labels, the associations and history of mental illness and the pain and shame of it all. I am not crazy, but I think and act in strange, often extreme and aberrant ways that don't always even make sense to myself. This is not a sudden onset of mental disorderliness that has emerged unprecedented. My mind has been rewired over the years so that old treacherous pathways have become worn and wider- deceptively enticing to walk down- whilst the other side of my brain that enables me to get on with life and function socially has grown into a dense, unexplored and seemingly impenetrable wilderness. 

All this means is that I don't think in quite the same way as other people. Although there are many others like me out there, sometimes it feels like I am the only person in the whole world going through this. And by 'this' I am talking about the complete spectrum of mental health and well-being, beginning with my diagnosis of clinical depression during my formative teenage years, since which my life has consisted of all possible modes of persistent and belligerent self-destruction.

 It is much too cumbersome a task for me to describe to you everything that has happened in all its gloriously drab and dingy details. So, firstly, to simplify, shall we begin with a list?

These diagnostic names all have associated labels and stigmatised ideas attached to them but I must stress that writing or hearing about them is one thing and experiencing them is quite another entirely. My personal experience has included anorexia, bulimia, self-harm, depression, compulsive overeating, body dysmorphia, OCD and psychosis. And wow, what an irksome and rotten old list that is. I wish I could make it all dissipate or archive it inside my brain with a warning notice saying 'DO NOT OPEN UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.'

Now, I also want to make sure that by writing this blog I don't come across as a victim or self-pitying. I don't displace blame on to others for the way I am. It's really just one sour cocktail of genetics mixed with environmental and social factors. I try to be self-accepting in spite of myself, as, for some reason, although I find having compassion for others quite easy, being nice to myself seems to go against all my natural instincts and inclinations. 

Since December 2013 my mental health has experienced a new and most unwelcome drenching in some horrible issues. It feels as though I am walking around some sort of atramental abyss looking for a sign of light or a tunnel to give me some direction or sense of hope.  This descent all began with a trigger whereby my own heightened self-consciousness and critical voice started to obsess about a particular aspect about my appearance, which soon enlarged to gargantuan proportions to the point where I did not want to be alive if this 'defect' in my appearance could not change. My mind went into a broken shut-down mode- a state that words alone cannot  express or give justice to. I do not intend this to sound supercilious or condescending but there really is no way of transposing mental illness into a form of logical understanding. 

Perhaps it is like trying to explain the immense pain of a broken arm or leg to someone who has only ever been bruised and never broken a bone in their body. And, to continue with this little analogy, like broken bones where there is a near infinite spectrum of minor and perilous injuries one can experience (from a broken finger to a broken back), mental health similarly exists on a panoramic and sepulchral spectrum of ailments. Each person will have their own subjective and unique experience of mental well-being, and in my personal case I feel as though I am on a constantly swinging pendulum of extreme highs and lows, always searching for some middle ground to grasp hold of and land on.

Anyway, that is enough for today. I hope that this first post has given you a little understanding of the complications and complexities of mental health and I have not yet lulled you into a state of depression yourself by reading what I have to say..!