Mental Health & Me

Mental Health & Me

*disclaimer to those affected by topics of self-harm and suicide*

I will be discussing my own experience throughout my childhood and teenage years. This includes the darker, uglier sides of mental health, such as self-harm and suicidal tendencies. Although they will not be touched in great detail, I believe it is my responsibility to inform readers before they begin to delve into these stories. I will try my best to convey a positive message throughout, and to shed some light on these dark topics.

If you or anyone you know is suffering with issues from mental health, please refer to any of the following help centres:

Pieta House Ballyfermot 01 623 5606

Niteline 1800 793 793

ISPCC Childline 1800 66 66 66/Text 50101

Teenline 01 462 2124

I have been suffering from anxiety for the majority of my childhood. I had some issues in the past with my self-esteem and self-confidence. I would always ask myself; "Why am I not normal, like the other kids?" I was an obnoxious child, and very loud. I was not afraid to speak my mind, and I was very sociable. I could talk to anyone with no fears at all. Some of these traits I carried into adolescence. I always had very sinister thoughts growing up that did not make a lot of sense for a child. I had trouble breathing at night and had frequent nightmares. I began to get very irritable and moody as I developed into a young woman, and my breathing troubles never went away. My mother brought me to a doctor, where I was prescribed an inhaler at the age of eleven, to help with my supposed asthma. I tried it for three months or so, and nothing was helping my constant stirs in the night, or my dark thoughts. One day, I said to her, "Mam, I think I should see a different kind of doctor for my head."

I joined a counselling service when I was thirteen years old. I will always remember the first thing I said when I sat in that comfy chair, packed with fluffy cushions and surrounded by playschool toys, facing my very colourful counsellor: "My head feels very confusing. Everything seems so jumbled. It will take my years to even begin to tell you my story." To which she replied; "That's okay. Take as long as you like." Suddenly, my breathing felt balanced as I rambled away to her in my hour session. I think she knew I felt scared. But she was lovely. I ended up staying with her for two years, once a week of a Thursday afternoon. I poured my heart out to her about everything that was eating away at me. Every session I had with her, I'd sit in the chair across from her, and she would ask me how I am. I told her that I felt very angry all of the time. I felt very sad but very numb all at once. She did not make me feel crazy, and she certainly did not make me feel stupid about how I was feeling. I am currently attending that service to this day, six years later, and I am seeing my fifth counsellor.

My advice to anyone who, like me is confused, or bewildered or delusional about your feelings, your fears and anxieties: Take time and book just one therapy appointment. You never know if you don't try. I understand that counselling is not everyone's cup of tea, but it truly is the best thing that ever happened to me. It is a completely safe and non-judgemental space, where you can pour your worries into that room, and leave it there until you return, like dumping a literal weight off your shoulders. However, there are times where you feel as though you are getting worse from the experience when you realise how many worries you have, as if you are continuously digging deeper into your anxiety tunnel, opening repressing memories and past emotions. You may feel like that for a short while, or a long time. But always remember that the end result will always be positive, so long as you put the effort into helping yourself, just as they are there to help you get out of that tunnel.

Self-care is the most important thing to remember during recovery of any kind, not just for mental health. If you feel hungry, or thirsty, you tend to those needs. If you feel completely tuckered out, you take a nap. If you're hungover to pieces, you drink a shit ton of lucozade and pass out next to an open window in a quiet room (or you make yourself a killer fry-up, depends). In order to take care of yourself physically, you keep hydrated, eat balanced meals and keep active. Taking care of your mental health is no different. Keep your body and soul happy, while also staying far away from any poison or stress in your life. I am not an organised person, nor am I a logical person for that matter. But I decided to comprise a list of what was making me happy, and what was making me anxious. What made me happy, I did more of. What made me anxious, I completely shut down from my life. It is the simplest solution to happiness and self-love. Being quite the worrier myself, I eventually began saying "fuck it" or "fuck off" to the things that made me unhappy. I realised who and what made me feel worthwhile. And those who didn't, I distanced myself from them. I felt as if something that had been missing felt whole again. Because life really is that short to be dragging yourself to things or along with people who don't give a shit about you. So, why give a shit about them? Like my mother always says, "fuck it." Such a wise woman.

Throughout my first semester in University, I felt incredibly useless and exhausted everywhere I went. I barely slept, or slept too much, I isolated myself from my friends and family and I ate very little for several months. Obviously bewildered, I attended the doctor's office in July 2017, where I did some blood tests to find what was wrong with me. In my mind, I assumed perhaps I was suffering anaemia, or low thyroid problems. I thought that maybe I could start taking iron tablets for my energy or sleeping tablets. I never realised the extent of my state, until I got my results over the phone: extremely low serotonin levels. I was advised to attend counselling and consider antidepressants. My mind was racing at this point. I had just finished up counselling in May, right before my Leaving Cert and I thought my mental health was very stable. Stable enough to get me by, without having dark thoughts or panicking everywhere I went. 

Even though I had suffered mental health issues in the past, it truly was at the end of my list of guesses for what was happening to me. It turns out I was depressed, and doctors assumed I had been for many years but was never treated for it. I decided to start the medication in my first semester in college, something of which I was completely against as a child. It was mentioned to me once before in counselling, but I had too much pride in me to give up so quickly to my anxiety. I always thought of it as a lost battle with my mental health and me. I was warned about the side effects from a very good friend of mine (Shoutout to one of the greatest people I know. I hope that you are happy and well) who was on medication himself. "You'll feel very emotional and emotionless all at once, and don't be scared if you start having really vivid dreams. Like, scary vivid." He was right. The medication fucked me over royally. That's what people don't tell you about those little tablets. While in the long run, they are there to help you, and help balance the chemicals in your brain similar to an able-minded person, the journey to get there is not pretty. I felt on top of the world for a day, then felt completely slumped and worn-out on another. Some days I felt nothing at all, and others I cried anytime I dropped a spoon, or wanted to dropkick anyone who told me I was pretty. Not. Even. Kidding.

What scared me most of all was the unexpected suicidal tendencies. I believe there are two types of people suffering mental health issues: those who don't want to live anymore, and those who don't want to exist anymore. For years when I felt particularly down or anxious, I would always want to bury myself in a hole for a few days where it was nice and quiet where no one would bother me. And any problem that I was having would just magically solve itself by the time I crawled back out into the real world. During the Christmas period, I became part of the first group. I could not stop thinking about death no matter how hard I tried. The smallest of inconveniences would occur, and my first solution would be suicide. And I could not explain why. I still can't. It made sense to me during that time and I used to cry myself to sleep every night thinking about it. Because I understood how irrational these thoughts were, but it was truly how I felt at that time. I was in a very dark place, and I experienced what many others in the world experience every day. And it was eating my soul for all its worth. What made it worse was that it got dark very early on in the day, so it was as if the metaphorical darkness was never leaving me. Anytime I would walk home in the dark without any music or a phone call to distract me, I would see each car driving past me, and I would imagine what it would be like to step out in front of it. I would quickly snap out of it (when I eventually found the strength to) and just burst into tears. I would think "There's people out there that love me. And I'm coming home to them."

For those of you out there that are self-harming or are considering ending your life, find one thing in the world to live for.  Something that matters to you. One is all it takes.

The journey to self-love can be a difficult road. It can take years to find exactly what you need, but it will all be worth it in the end. No matter what people try to dictate to you, depression is an illness. Mental health is not romantic, as portrayed in many tv shows and films (and a whole lot of Tumblr posts). Mental disorders are genuine, and they should never be taken lightly. It is always okay to feel down or confused or agitated about the things you can't control. 

Do whatever makes you feel happy and fuck what other people think. Remove the poison from your life and live the life you want. No one's life journey is ever simple. Not every plan is successful, and life is certainly not an easy road. But it won't be any easier if you don't take a stand against the fuckery you are not meant to enjoy. Empathise and be kind with others, because everyone has their own shit to deal with. I'm still trying to figure out what my purpose in life is to be, and I'm excited to see what is ahead of me on that journey. I know that eventually everything will work out in the end, no matter how long it takes. And you should too. Life will always be worth living for, so long as you find the piece that's been missing.

"It's OK if you fall down and lose your spark. Just make sure that when you get back up, you rise as the whole damn fire"- Colette Werden

Love always,

D x