I dream that one day I will be freed from the shackles of anxiety’s chaos. Freed from the pounding heart, shallow breaths and rattled nerves – the insecurities, fears and chronic doubts. Freed from the desire to tear at my nails, scratch up my hands and carve into my own soft flesh. I dream that…
When I have a cold, it’s obvious I’m sick. And when it goes away, it’s obvious it’s gone. When I have depression, it’s not obvious to anyone – even me. And when it goes away, how am I going to know? It was clear as a summer’s day when my depression hit rock bottom. I…
My recovery from depression and anxiety seems to be moving in a positive direction. Yay me! Smiley face 🙂 While I am still – for now – taking medication to assist me, I am hopeful that over the course of the next year I’ll wean myself off and get back to my “normal” – whatever that…
I am trying to figure out why I indulge in actions that disgust me, but I do anyway. Sure – most of them are inherent behaviours. But I’m not as silly as I look – I do have the capacity to learn and change. My mental health stuff has become appallingly resistant to change. There is nothing we do that is without benefit to us. Nothing. Even all those things we do “for other people”, it turns out, there is also something in it for us.
I have Restless Legs Syndrome.
I rarely talk about it. It sounds like a benign and trivial condition everyone experiences at some stage. To some extent that is true, but my restless legs are severe and chronic.
And normally extremely well managed.
Like most problems, there are people who have it much worse. While I have a lot of associated nerve pain, if I take regular medication it’s fine. I rarely notice it and when I do it’s not too bad. In that aspect of my life, I found a little pocket of normality.
It’s an unpleasant feeling.
I’m currently wallowing around in misery, feeling sorry for myself but struggling to find the willingness to be willing to make the required changes to my behaviours. I’ve acquired all the necessary knowledge, tools and support networks. Still I wallow. Still I perpetuate the lifetime habits that I both loathe and cling to like a drowning woman.
Anyone who has never experienced mental health issues, probably finds this to be a staggering question – why wouldn’t you want to recover?! Who would want to stay “sick”? Well – I am struggling to heal – and I don’t want to stay sick – but I also can’t seem to recover. Don’t worry – it makes no sense to me either!
There’s a war in my head. Some days it gets so loud in there, it gives me a headache. A real one.
The voice nattering incessantly in my ear is not a healthy voice. It’s a familiar one. It feels like a safe one. But that voice is an expert manipulator, liar and thief.
There’s another little voice in the dark – the voice of reason and wisdom, sense and sensibility – but that voice is weak and timid. It has never learned to stand up to the manipulator.
For many decades, I wondered why on earth anybody would, or could, run a blade across their unscarred skin, and inflict pain, misery and permanent damage. Just why would somebody do that?! Then my life fell apart – and I learned why.
It is not every day you meet a woman with no ears and half a nose. Lucy Henry is not an average patient in the Emergency Department [ED], with her prominent scars from self-inflicted burns. She is one of the forty thousand patients that present at the Royal Hobart Hospital emergency department each year. This 35-year-old blonde is confident and comfortable in herself, despite the life-altering events of the past 13 years. As she relaxes on her sofa, with devoted dalmatian Lottie nearby, she speaks frankly about her experiences as a self-confessed “frequent flyer” in the emergency department.
Are you sick to death of hearing about depression? How sad we all are now? It’s an epidemic apparently… I know I’m sick to death of hearing about it – not because I lack compassion for those with depression, but because I AM one of those people with depression. Apparently. And how depressing is that?!…