It's been almost a year since I was diagnosed and i've only briefly mentioned it on social media, i'm finally ready to tell my mental health story to the world!
On the third of January this year I visited my local GP, as I sat in the waiting room I refused to look at anyone and felt sick. Not 'I have the flu' or 'I have the sniffles' sick, it was 'i'm going to be called a time-waster, I don't have a real reason to be here' sick. Days before, I rang up and booked an appointment to see a doctor about my skin, it was in awful condition. It essentially looked like someone had taken a cheese grater to my face and I felt disgusting. As I sat in the waiting room I wondered if I was going to be prescribed anything to help my face. It was something I was struggling with for months, from early September 2016 I had problem after problem.
The doctor called me into his office and asked what he could help with, and I burst into tears, I didn't know where to start or what to say. Long story short I told him that I was self harming on my face. Any spot that I saw, I immediately had to pick, over and over again. Once it scabbed over I would reopen the wound and would continue attacking my face until I eventually let it scar over. I revealed to him that after I picked I would feel satisfied and I mentioned that voices in my head were telling me to do it and it made them happy when I completed their 'tasks.' The doctor then asked about my social life and I told him that I basically didn't have one. Which was true. I was cancelling plans, faked being sick to get out of going to places, I didn't take any pictures of myself and I even cancelled my own birthday celebrations for later that month. He proceeded to ask if I had problems sleeping, to which I replied yes because the voices were keeping me up at night. I was prescribed Diazepam to help counteract my sleeping problems which helped a lot, I was sleeping longer and didn't keep waking up at three or four in the morning worrying about the next day or just lying there listening to the voices. I was then asked more questions, which I feel are far too personal to write on here and as a result from these questions I was referred to a psychiatrist. My doctor wrote my mobile number down and told me to expect a call later that morning confirming a date and time for me to see this psychiatrist.
The day this all happened was a school day and I explained my situation to the people who run the sixth form and fortunately they agreed for me to miss my morning lessons and wait for that phone call and a couple hours later I got it, and my next appointment was in two days.
This appointment was just as hard as the one previously and once again I cried as I revealed my problems. I told the psychiatrist how I felt, and i'm going to explain to you now how that was. I felt like an awful human being and that everything bad that had happened to my family members was down to me when it really wasn't. I was convinced my friends hated me and only put up with me so they could make fun of me behind my back. I believed my family only put up with me because they were related to me and had no choice. I felt so incredibly stupid in all of my school lessons because I either didn't understand what was being taught or I was getting E's or U's on my essays. And I just absolutely hated everything about myself, who I was, what I looked like, my personality. The very core of who I was made me feel revolting and unworthy of anything good in life.
Truthfully I felt like everyone around me would be better off I wasn't around.
The psychiatrist was so patient and understanding and offered me tissues when needed, which was every five minutes! Once I had rambled to him, he asked about the voices in my head. And so I told him that although they were the enemies, they were also friends and I believed that they only wanted the best for me. I couldn't have been more wrong.
The psychiatrist diagnosed me with extreme anxiety which stemmed around who I was and what I looked like, he also told me that I had severe self esteem issues as well as minor depression. I can't tell you how good it felt to be diagnosed with something and that I wasn't crazy or delusional. I'll never forget what he said to me 'You have mental illnesses, but they don't have you and they don't define you.' That is a quote I will always continue to tell myself when I have down days. My school was incredibly supportive and I couldn't be more grateful to my teachers for giving me time and reassuring me that I was doing my best. My mom was also supportive and told me that whatever life choices I made she would back me all the way and so would the rest of my immediate family.
My down days are the worst, seventy percent of the time I can quieten the voices in my head but sometimes I just don't have the energy. Yes, mental illnesses are so draining and every single day is a constant battle with myself. Most days I win, some days I don't and they do. And it's okay to not feel one hundred percent all of the time, because everyone has their demons. Now on my bad days, I don't like to do anything, at all. I know people are going to read this and think 'go for a run it releases endorphin's' or 'take a shower you'll feel better' i've tried these things and they do not work for me. And that's okay because there isn't one remedy that works for everyone. When i'm feeling pretty crappy I would much rather lie in bed and spend the day napping, watching conspiracy videos on YouTube or drink a hefty load of water. That is what helps me. Not going running and giving myself an asthma attack or slathering myself in pomegranate body butter. I also like to take time outs from my social media apps because sometimes that can also be detrimental to my mental state.
I'm happy to say that currently i'm feeling happy and content, and that doesn't mean i'll feel like this forever, I could have a breakdown next week no-one knows what the future holds. However, i'm starting college in September to pursue my dream job, my family and friends DO want me in their lives, I passed my A-Levels with decent grades that took me by surprise. So for now life is good, I am happy with how i'm doing and I hope it stays this way for a while.
-J.C X
P.S: This blog post was written on August 28th 2017, between writing it then and posting it today I did have a slight relapse, i'm back on the mend and doing better than I was a couple of weeks back! Recovery from a mental illness isn't always a walk in the park, you can be on a nice walk and then you trip over nothing and you're down on the ground. But you get back up, dust yourself off and start walking again!
