I am so much more.

 

woman

 

Badgered and bullied

I always felt both sadness and rage

at home and school

 

just wanted a moment that was mine

where I didn’t feel swept and carried away

by some sea that was not mine,

 

and my best friend were books

few people seemed to understand me or care

those who did only wanted to use me;

 

I am putting those years behind me

looking forward to a better future because

I choose to be happy even on my hardest days

 

won’t let depression or anxiety conquer me

I am so much more than this misery, anger, and pain

that is trying to strangle the life from me.

 – By Linda M. Crate.

 

You can find more of Linda’s words here at https://www.facebook.com/Linda-M-Crate-129813357119547/

 

Image rights by Pexels stock images. 

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Growing up with an abusive parent – A Conversation with Claire.

CLAIRE CONVERSATION TMY

 

This month, I had the opportunity to sit down with Claire* who bravely opened up to tell me her story of how she grew up in a domestically and emotionally challenged environment, and the impact this had on her mental health as an adult. Claire is now a parent and a homeowner with her long term Partner, and when she’s not caring for her two children she works part time as a registered medical professional. This is Claire’s story of her experience with an abusive parent.

*WARNING – this post contains some reference of domestic and sexual violence, and some contents can be triggering. All names have been changed to ensure confidentiality. 

 

 

TMY – “So what made you want to speak out?

 

CLAIRE – Mostly to help your blog, and to touch on subjects that I don’t really speak about which could help other young adults or children. Um… about – it’s really hard to say it now – if you are having a tough time at home when you are young but you don’t see it as abuse or anything… But when you get old you know it is, do you know what I mean?

 

Yeah.

 

And how it can affect you a little bit really.

 

So tell me about the background of it all, obviously I know quite a bit about the life you had with your mum?

 

Even now I’ll try and discuss it, and I still won’t see it as abuse. But now when I think about it with my children, and if I was ever to do something like that, I wouldn’t do it – you know what I mean – so I know it’s wrong. But even discussing it I’ll think – ‘No, it’s not really, it’s not’ – but then again it was. So I’ll think about the way my mum used to speak to me… see even now I think people will just think it’s attention seeking or you are just being stupid, but that’s just my mum talking.

 

Yes.

 

Do you see what I mean?

 

*Nods*

Yes. I think when you are that age as well you just don’t know, you haven’t got the experience to compare it to. You haven’t got that self-worth built up over the years.

 

No, I remember when I was at school and I went to one of the mentors who helps students, and I really wanted to tell her what had been going on, and I approached her and she said to me, ‘Someone’s mum died today’, and then just blanked me so I never spoke out to anyone again after that. So I do think it’s quite important for children to be able to approach people and mentors who are supposed to be there to help you. And actually get acknowledged and not brushed off, because that actually reinforces you saying well, maybe it is nothing? If she’s not going to listen to me who is? Maybe it is nothing, maybe it is just in my head.

 

It’s quite a big deal for someone to – how old was you at the time?

 

So… I think I was in year 8 when that happened…

 

So 13, 14 maybe?

 

*Nods*

 

And that was the first time I actually went to approach somebody about it and it was the last time I ever did.

 

Yeah.

 

I suppose things might have been a little bit different if I’d actually said; look this is what’s happening at home, I’m not very happy.

 

It’s a big thing to do, was it just… built up? What made you want to talk to somebody?

 

I can’t remember to be honest I just remember thinking I need to tell someone, and then I never did again.

 

And to face that kind of rejection as well at such a young age, it must have made you feel like…

 

It’s something that has always stayed with me, what happened, it’s not something I will ever forget.

 

Yeah. Do you remember the next time you spoke out after that, when you told somebody?

 

I think it was….. I think it was when I had had my proper fall out with my mum, and I went to the doctors with panic attacks – I couldn’t breathe – and like, I kind of spoke about it but not really. I can’t remember really? I think I have obviously spoke about it to my friends as I got older, but at the time it was normalised, you sort of get desensitised to things you know like, you don’t see it as… maybe when I went to councillor really, but that was when I was about… I was pregnant with my son, so, about 13 years later. And that’s when I really opened up to a stranger about wanting to seek help again, so that’s probably about 12, 13 years later.

 

It’s a long time.

 

Yeah. Oh and I did at university actually, I had this lady called S that I used to speak to. And I wrote a massive long letter about all the things my mum had done and she like took me under her wing a little bit. Um… yeah, it affected me whilst I was at university; I used to self-harm, I tried committing suicide. I had to stay in observations with the nurse for a couple of nights, I wasn’t allowed to be on my own. I had to sleep there before they were worried I was going to kill myself. I think that’s when I wrote the letter to this women who tried to help students.

 

Trying to reach out?

 

Yeah, yeah. I’m a little bit all over the place, sorry.

 

It’s okay. Do you think that…you said you was pregnant with your son at the time when you really started opening up… Do you think that being pregnant with your first born kind of helped to see your own worth in a way?

 

No, I sought help because I didn’t want to feel that pain anymore, and bringing a child in to it.

 

Okay.

 

I was so… I think it highlighted things more because my mum would, we’d obviously had that fall out, and she wasn’t bothered with my – you know with me being pregnant or anything – and I think it just hit home just how hurt I was still and that’s when I sought counselling, I didn’t want to bring a child in to it. Well, since having children it’s got better, but I still feel feelings of guilt towards my mum, I still feel like sometimes in my head… was it acceptable behaviour? And I’m just… You know… But I wouldn’t do the things she has done to me to my children, you know then it’s wrong, you know?

 

Yeah, I suppose you’ve got something to compare it to now, you are on the different perspective, you are on your mum’s perspective in a way.

 

Yeah. Because I think really, it would be nice for people to read this, and acknowledge that there are similarities in their stories, where they have got a narcissistic mum, that they are getting abused and that it’s okay to stand up – and if they are in the situation like, with the woman at the school who didn’t acknowledge it and brushed it off, because she’d heard that something more important had happened to someone else – there are other people who you can speak to, you don’t have to just walk away and then try and find help 13 years later because you wouldn’t have to go through all that suffering.

 

Do you think your life would have been different if she did say, ‘Okay, let’s sit down and talk?’

 

I think I would have been under the eyes of social services. But my mum was under social services with my younger brother. I’m not really sure of the story behind that, I know she had a social worker to take him out, but I don’t know we never spoke about it, so I don’t know what that was all about. But because that had happened, maybe… Well, if I had gone in to more detail, gone in to any detail what had happened, I think she would have spoke to various agencies to try and take me away.

 

When did it all start with you mum? Can you remember?

 

I don’t know if this is a memory… or it’s something she had told me. But she left alcohol out in the living room when I was about 2 or 3. I got really drunk and passed out, then I got bit by a dog. And I don’t know where she was then, and I find that quite neglectful because you don’t, like –

 

It’s very young.

 

– ‘Where are you?’ You know. But, um… I do have a memory of her pushing me down the stairs when I was 4. And I have another memory… the one memory I remember really well is, I was – I can’t remember why she was angry at me – but I was in primary school and I must have been about 5 (I started school when I was 5), and she was really annoyed with me, I can’t remember why. And she pushed me. We had this sofa where it had all these little metal studs going all around it, she ended up blacking my eye? And she told me I had to tell people that I had fallen over my toys. Um, and I remember that, and pushing me down the stairs, but I can’t remember anything else after that. So I think… what I can remember… I think she was neglectful from me being a toddler, because why else would a two year old get drunk and get attacked by a dog?

 

Yeah.

 

But my first memories are more when I was about 5, um… yeah.

 

Did you feel like it was normal, growing up in that environment? Or did you know something was wrong?

 

I used to watch films and I would see like, these families being really happy, and I used to think, ‘Why is my family not like that, you know why are we not like that?’ and I used to say that to her and she’d be like, ‘Oh it’s just in the films, it’s just films.’ I just saw it as normal I think though really, I used to see the films and think why is my family not like that. But… yeah I saw it as normal really. I think it was as I grew in to an adult where I thought, you know, it’s not right, it’s not right.

 

Yeah. Did you tell your friends?

 

I can’t remember. I don’t know if they witnessed it or… I know one of my friends said that ‘I know your mum is always a bit funny with you.’ I don’t think I told my friends at the time actually, what was going on. They must have known something because when I was about 15, I lived with my friend and her mum for a while, and her mum used to say to my nan, ‘Oh I used to have her all the time as a toddler,’ and my nan was like ‘Well I used to have her all the time as well,’ so when did my mum actually have me? My mum had me quite young, and I think she felt she had missed out on a lot of her teenage years where you are going out and getting drunk and all that, so I think she wanted to experience those that everyone else was feeling? And I think she took it out on me. Quite a lot. Blamed me.

 

Do you know if she had a history of any abuse, anything similar?

 

No, she was doted on by my grandad, absolutely doted on and the problem with my mum and how she is, is that my grandad doted on her, and gave her anything she wanted, but he was a strict parent. But my nan used to hide things from my grandad too so she wouldn’t get in to trouble, and I think she has always get away with stuff and walk all over her mum because my nan wouldn’t say anything. Like my mum used to come home drunk and my nan would make cover stories up for her, you know… so. But I don’t think she was abused. She once said in anger that my dad had raped her, but I think she just said that because she’s just…

 

*Silence*

 

Yeah.

 

*Silence*

 

There are some stories about my dad and how he’d pushed her down the stairs when she was pregnant, and that he’d held her face to dog shit, but I don’t know how real these stories are because she, with my mum, you never know what to believe. She tells so many lies, it’s like the boy who cried wolf, you don’t know if it’s true or if it’s not true. So you just doubt everything she says.

 

How was the relationship between you mum and your little brother? Was it different to the relationship that you had?

 

Yeah. Um, my mum hated… So my Mum used to buy all my brothers clothes and stuff, she wouldn’t buy me any, so my nan would get them for me, my mum hated that. And my mum was very all for my brother, my brother was a little turd when he was younger sometimes… But my mum was quite nasty with him growing up though, I just remember little things, you know? And I’d think ‘It’s a bit mean that’, but… not half as much as she was like with me. They were quite close.

 

When you had your first born, was anything like, brought out of you?

 

Yeah so, some of the mental health things that I experienced was, when I was with my son, and one of the other reasons why I tried to sought counselling was that I was getting nightmares of my mum. Um, every night really, waking up screaming and stuff… and even though my mum had been abusive like, I still wanted her, I still wanted her in my life and I wanted her to care for me, and I still want her to care for me but she’s never going to be that person so you’ve kind of accept and acknowledge the fact that she’s never going to be the person that I want her to be… and a lot of anger and resentment came out for her really as well when I had my son because I thought how could you do that? How could you treat your daughter that way, like I could never be like that with my children, you know? Um… Yeah. But… There’s a lot of things though that I think ‘I could write a book about my life’ and there’s a lot of things I find it hard to talk about.

 

Does your partner know about what you have been through?

 

He knows everything, I think he knows everything really? Most things yeah.

 

I bet it feels nice to have someone who you can share your life with in that way?

 

He doesn’t… he hates her with a passion.

 

*Nods*

 

But… He gets so angry when I’m upset about her, because he hates what I have been through… where it can come to the point where he’s not really supportive and he’s just angry at her? And sometimes, like, I mean I’m not really like it anymore because of my medication but when I used to get really down… he didn’t get it? He just didn’t get it, because he has never experienced any bad things in his life, everything is perfect and rosy and he doesn’t really understand that anyone can ever suffer in pain or anything, and feel down.

 

Do you get depressed? Do you have bouts of depression?

 

*Nods*

 

Not at the minute though, because of my tablets, they really help. If I was to come off my tablets tomorrow, I’d say in a few months’ time I would be back down there feeling anxious, feeling paranoid that everyone is out to get me, like nobody likes me, I’ll get a funny look off someone and I’ll think, ‘Oh they are talking about me!’ I feel devalued, I feel below everyone, I don’t feel like I’m… I feel like everyone up here? *Raised hand above head.*

 

But I’m down here… *lowers hand.*

 

I don’t feel like my worth is…. Everyone else’s standard…

 

*Chokes up*

 

*Silence.*

 

Um… I’ll look at myself in the mirror and think – ‘You’re ugly, you are so fucking ugly!’ Um… and I’ll… I’ll just have really bad… Yeah… and, but… I’m on the tablets and I’m a lot happier, I try to avoid thinking about my mum now, but I do question my own parenting, I get paranoid that I’m not a good parent? And I feel like I’m letting my children down, but I try so hard. I think I overcompensate, but I just, I just want to be everything that my mum’s not. Um, but yeah without the tablets, I would be very down I think.

 

How long have you been on them for?

 

Um…

 

*thinks back*

 

About 2 years… yeah.

 

And who’s decision was it to be on them, was it your doctor’s?

 

That was mine. That was mine.

 

And was you in counselling before that?

 

I think I started with CBT…

 

Yep.

 

But that was before, that, I think it was before I was pregnant. But I didn’t like that, I didn’t like the female therapist, I thought she was young and I would have wanted someone a bit older and I’m my eyes a bit more experienced and someone who could actually listen to me, I felt like I was talking to someone my own age who was being judgemental of me, so I didn’t go to any more of them. So that’s when I opted for counselling, that’s when I was pregnant.

 

Was that through the NHS? (National Health Service)

 

Yeah

 

Yeah – do you think it helped at all?

 

It did yeah, but unfortunately got cut short because I had my son early…

 

Okay.

 

And we never really followed it through after because obviously with a newborn it is quite difficult to go to counselling.

 

*Nods*

 

Yes.

 

But, with my first born I had suspected mild psychosis, which is what my mum had. Well, she didn’t have mild, she had strong psychosis where she would see blood coming out of the walls. Um, I can talk about that if you want, with psychosis and stuff?

 

*Nods*

 

So… when I was pregnant with my first born, I used to, like see the devil coming out of the ceiling like out of the corner, um… I used to see the number 6 everywhere, and think of the devil, I thought he was after me. I’d be screaming at night telling my partner I could see the devil coming out of the wall. I used to have nightmares. And then when I had my son I was hearing voices where, I could hear voices but I could never make out what they were saying it was like whispering it was like…

 

*Whispering impression*

 

…One time, I heard somebody go, ‘Go on…’  like an old man’s voice but there was nobody there, because I was on the postnatal ward and it was in the middle of the night, but I was so tired and drained it was just normal to me. And then when I got home I could see bears coming out of the walls, and on the way home I could see shadows climbing up trees, and loads of weird things going on. I went back to hospital because of what I could see in the walls… And then it kind of just disappeared, it kind of disappeared after all. But I remember, like, when I used to breastfeed my son, and I’d be looking at his toys and I could see them moving and I though they was alive, so when I used to feed him I used to hide his toys away so I couldn’t see them. I used to hide them behind the cot the teddies because I genuinely thought they were moving! But then that kind of disappeared then, I went to a support group for women with postnatal depression, and I found that really helpful and it all so gave me a bit of structure – that helped. But with my first son I had to be super mum, I had to do everything, I couldn’t sit still. In one day we’d go swimming, library, park… everywhere like, it would be jam packed my schedule, I’d never keep still. Whereas this time around I’m a little bit more relaxed but then I’m thinking am I a bad mum because I’m not being super woman, I’m not doing this and doing that, you know? Um… but I’ve not had any signs of psychosis this time around. But, the hospital was quite rude though with my second son, because I got told because I had mild psychosis with my first, then I had to see a psychiatrist in order to get discharged?

 

Okay.

 

So… about 7 days after having him, I said, ‘Can I see the psychiatrist now?’  So when it comes to me leaving the hospital, I can just leave, instead of waiting around to see the psychiatrist. The psychiatrist came in… And he was asking me all these questions – which they have to do – do you think you have got super powers? Do you think everyone’s after you? And I was like, ‘No, I’m fine, I’m absolutely fine there’s nothing wrong with me, I feel so much better than I did when I had my first…’

 

Yeah.

 

And then they was like, ‘Well I think you should get supervised whilst you look after your baby for the next few weeks, can you agree to that?’ and I was like, ‘No!’ I was like, ‘There’s no way I’m getting supervised, there’s nowt wrong with my parenting, I’m not giving you any answers that would make you feel that way?’

 

Yeah…

 

I requested this psychiatric assessment because it’s what I need to get discharged, and I didn’t want to be fannying about! Because I’m in hospital for so long, I want to get discharged, I don’t want to be waiting around, I wanted this to be over and done with, and I found it quite…. Infuriating. Because I’d had it the first time around that they had assumed… Do you know what I mean? It wasn’t like that at all.

 

What did they say to that then, when you put your foot down and said No?

 

He just said – ‘Okay then!’ – he didn’t say anything. But he was a student psychiatrist and I think he was just covering his own back.

 

Yeah maybe, maybe… Did you have any signs of psychosis or paranoia, or anything like that when you was younger?

 

Paranoia, yeah. Psychosis, no.

 

*Laughs*

 

I was always frightened of ghosts and stuff. But no not really…

 

*Silence*

 

A lot of my memory is blanked out. I don’t have a lot of happy memories. I do of my nan and grandad. I don’t really remember a lot. I remember one time when we was sat on the floor next to our house and we was chatting a lot, and that was really nice? But my mum could turn really quick, and I always remember being really disappointed where one minute she’s be really happy, and the next minute she’ll take it out on me. You’d feel lifted and nice and comforted, and the next minute… You were back down to the bottom again…

 

*Silence*

 

Um… yeah… I don’t have a lot of memories of my childhood to be honest, I have a lot of stuff from what had happened but the happy memories, I don’t have many of them.

 

Do you feel like you missed out on a childhood?

 

Yeah. Because I don’t have a dad. Haven’t got a dad that has bothered with me as they say, and my mum’s not particularly the best mum you could ever have…so yeah I do feel like… I wish that I had a family where, like my partners mum and dad; where they come and help with DIY and you can go round for your dinner and you can raid the fridge without being judged or… and I had a mum where I went shopping with her and drank champagne. Maybe those things don’t happen, and maybe that’s not reality and that’s just created in my head because that’s what I want? And I see it in films and stuff maybe that’s not what family life is really like and that’s what I have created and it’s not really real. But that’s what I’d like – a mum and dad – with no mental health issues and that cared about me and loved me and took me shopping, did the normal things that mother and daughters do, and a dad that cares about you and judges all your boyfriends and… Instead… Instead of having emptiness. It is, it’s just like a childhood of emptiness, I don’t remember anything… Apart from the bad things…

 

*Silence*

 

You seem quite close to your partner’s mum and dad, do you see them as a family?

 

I know they are family because they are my children grandparents, but I don’t feel like… I get on with them but I don’t feel like I am part of them, I don’t feel like I a worthy of being part of their family. I just feel like, it’s me, my partner, my children and my nan. I feel quite lonely. I feel like my children family, it’s all about my partner’s side, because I haven’t really got anybody. That’s how I feel. I feel like I’m quite lonely, like I feel like I’m not really part of my son’s life.

 

Okay.

 

Because I feel like, I’m here. That’s their family… And my nans over there? I don’t feel like really… yeah. Yeah, I don’t know.

 

*Silence*

 

Do you feel like… I know your mum came back in to your life quite recently and you tired making a go of it, and that didn’t work out. Do you feel like you was stronger to handle the situation this time?

 

I was a lot stronger this time than how I was when I was pregnant with my first born… I was a lot more accepting of it because I’d already been through it. But, I still get feelings of guilt that maybe it’s me who’s in the wrong? And being that person where you have always been put down… My mum is like, it’s like role reversal where I’m her mum and I have to look after her needs and her feelings, and it’s still like that now, I think that’s why I get the guilt. Because, she is narcissistic, she has got the symptoms of narcissistic personality disorder, she’s like that. Even now I’m thinking, ‘Oh I feel guilty on her, how is she feeling? How is she coping? I am being the bad person because I’m putting her through this?’ But, then I’ve also got to think I’m doing it for myself as well, and I’ve got to be in a good place to look after my children. And when I was friendly with her, she did nothing to make her horrible when we were friends, obviously the telephone calls she went a bit insane, but the times we saw each other she was okay. But there was always that doubt in myself thinking she’s not doing to stay like this, this is all an act. And she proved me exactly right when we fell out. Because of the social services things, and, ‘I’m going to take your kids on a Saturday,’ and, ‘It’s going to be on my terms,’ and I thought well you have not changed and I know I did the right thing my cutting her out again.

 

Yes.

 

But it does mean I don’t feel guilty and that show I feel, but she doesn’t worry about how I feel because it’s all about her.

 

I know that you had quite a bad time with it again, but do you feel like you did the right thing by trying to give her a second chance?

 

Yeah I’m glad I did because if I didn’t I would always wonder what if? but I’ve done it, I have extended the branch, and it didn’t work out so. That’s the last time I ever do it because I don’t have any feeling of what if anymore. I know what it leads to… it leads to me feeling anxious, me feeling nervous, me worrying, me being paranoid – even if she doesn’t give me any reason to be paranoid. And then, it’s just not worth it, like I wasn’t sleeping, I was overthinking. Do you know? Whereas now I feel a lot better.

 

Yes.

 

I still feel guilty. I feel like I have pushed herself out on purpose, but she proved me wrong anyway with calling social services on me and my children and stuff. I thought – you’ve not changed.

 

No.

 

You’re still selfish.

 

Do you feel like you have come out stronger from it?

 

I’m back in the place where I was when it was me, my son and my partner, where it was just us and I didn’t have to think about her. But I feel like I think about her a bit more now because she has met my son and I’ve put her in that situation where I have introduced her to my son and then I’ve taken it away? But I took it away – not in spite –  but for my own sanity, because I’m worrying so much, and also when she used to be with him I used to think, ‘You don’t deserve this, you don’t deserve this happiness to be with my son, you are not worthy of being with my son, because you are so cruel.’ She’s been so cruel to me yet I’m letting her see my son? And I used to resent her and think why am I doing this? I’m not doing it for me, I’m doing it for her, I’m not doing it for me, I’m not doing it for my son, I’m doing it for her, and it’s the whole role reversal thing again of looking after her needs.

 

Yeah, I think there’s bit of a whole role reversal with your worth as well, I mean you grew up in that situation thinking that you wasn’t worthy, and now it’s she’s the one that’s not worthy?

 

Yeah. Kind of, um… but on the same token, I’m still looking after her needs by feeling guilty, you know?

 

Yeah, yeah.

 

I won’t… but then, I am more worthy than that so…

 

I think that’s what makes you human though? Like, we’re empathetic creatures aren’t we –

 

– Some of us.

 

Some of us…

 

*Silence*

 

I just… I’ll close my eyes and think of her when I was a child, and I’ll just see these evil eyes, looking through my nan’s window, shouting and swearing, and saying, ‘let me in’ or saying ‘You’re killing your nan and your grandad, they don’t want you here..’ And she didn’t want me because obviously her husband would beat me up. He’d bust my lip open. He tired breaking my nose, but my nose it like… malleable…

 

*laughs and squeezes tip of nose*

 

*silence*

 

Um… I forgot what I was saying now. What was I saying? Yeah, so she didn’t want me and my grandad took me in and she hated that, because it made her feel jealous, so in turn shed make me feel like they didn’t want me, that I was killing them, she actually said -‘You’re killing them being here!’ and… she just made me feel like I wasn’t worthy of anybody, of anybody loving me, of anybody taking care of me… You know if they ever brought me some clothes – even though I was living with them and she didn’t buy me any – she’d go sick, she’d hate it! And I used to think… why? You know, why am I not allowed a holiday, why am I not allowed clothes, why am I not allowed to be loved? And it did make me… because I know I look back on my school days, there was a time where someone would wind me up and I’d just go over to them and punch them in the stomach *laughs awkwardly*. Like, that I’d be so angry and I’d just go over and punch them… Like… I think if I ever worked in a school – which is something I do want to do – if anybody ever came to me and said, ‘I’m having problems at home’, even if it was something so daft I would sit down and I would listen to them, and I would acknowledge them and make them feel acknowledged, I wouldn’t turn them away because, schools hard enough as it is without having problems at home as well.

 

*Nods*

 

Yes, I agree.

 

And when you seek that help of someone who’s in an authority position, where they are in a position where they can help you, then they should stop listen, actually listen to what they are going to say, because you never know what that child is going to say or what they are going through. You can look at somebody, they can be well dressed, well groomed, going on holidays all the time, they can be the most happiest person in public – but if they come to you are say they are having problems you need to listen to them. You don’t just turn them away.

 

Do you think with the situation that you went through, it would make you be more aware of it with your children? You know, say if they are going through tough times at school?

 

Yeah I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t want to see any child, regardless of it they are mine or not, I wouldn’t want to see any child going through any problems because it would really, you know… strike a chord with me, I wouldn’t like it. But it would make me feel more desperate for my children to be happy though, because it would make me feel guilty if they were so down? It would make me feel horrible. But my children will never experience anything from me or from their dad, you know… I don’t know really? I want my children to be more open with me and willing to discuss anything with me, without feeling judged. Where they can have ten minutes where they can shout and swear, and punch things and after ten minutes… *holds hand up* ‘right… Calm down now,’ do you know where they have got that time to be able speak about their emotions, you have ten minutes where you can shout and swear, you’re not going to get in trouble, just get it all out… You know, where they can just come to me and feel open and relaxed, to say – ‘Look mum I’m having problems’, and that’s something I wished I’d always had. My nan’s always been there for me, she’s been amazing, but there is going to come a time when my nan isn’t there anymore, and like I said before my partner and my sons are there and I’m literally on my own then I don’t have any branches off to anyone else really, you know what I mean? And I think there is going to be a time, when that time comes I’m going to feel incredibly lonely.

 

*chokes up*

 

But then I’ve got to think that I’ve got two beautiful children now, and I don’t have to dwell on the past and that I’m not really on my own because I have these two beautiful babies and I can look after their emotions and help them to grow up to be strong people where they do feel wary that everyone is here, but they’re up there, and they are not on the same level they are up here…

 

*raises hand*

 

You know? I want that for my children, I want everything that they didn’t have, where if they… You know… If they… where I can get them the shoes that they want so they fit in at school, where they can talk to me if they need to talk to me, where they can feel open to talk to me where they can get a cuddle from me or they feel comfortable to give me a hug because that’s what they want. Where they are not nervous to give they mum a hug because it’s not a natural thing, I want it to be natural where we give each other a hug and you know, where they speak to me and know that… Their worthiness is up here, so they can do well in life and they have the confidence to go forward, instead of thinking, ‘Oh everyone thinks I’m down here, you know…’

 

Yes. Well…they are two very lucky boys!

 

*Laughs*

 

They are very lucky. So what would you want to say to somebody who read your story and was going through the same thing, what would you say to them?

 

Acknowledge it. Acknowledge that it is wrong. Speak out, don’t feel guilty for speaking out on that parent because that parent is not thinking about your emotions or your health or your happiness, they are not thinking about your happiness. Speak out and do something, and if the first person doesn’t listen to you don’t give up. Don’t just put up with it, and acknowledge that it is wrong, ask yourself would you do that to your child? And if it’s no, then it’s not right.”

 

 

 

The NSPCC (National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children) is a registered UK charity that provides 24/7 support and information for children who are victims of abuse, and support for families. For more information about the NSPCC, research, and their services please follow the link to their website below:

Web: nspcc.org.uk

The NSPCC also provide support helplines for adults concerned about a child;
Tel: 0808 800 5000

For help for children and young people, the Childline website, provided by the NSPCC, is a great resource for information, advice and 24 hour support.

Web: childline.org.uk

Tel: 0800 1111

 

 

The blog is looking for people to take part in telling their story. To take part in The Conversations, please drop me an email on themanicyears@gmail.com.

Megan x

“Sharing Stories” – A battle of postnatal depression, by Emma Burns.

“I have suffered with my mental health since I was young, and diagnosed at the age of 12. My mum had been a heavy drinker since I was 3 and I’d been in and out of foster care on several occurrences by the time I’d actually been diagnosed with depression and anxiety. In the years before this, at primary school, I had just been called “soft” and picked on because I cried all the time or overreacted to the smallest of things and then just I’d sit there in silence just thinking.

Fast forward to when I was diagnosed. I was in year 7 at high school and not living at home with my mum because yet again she had fallen off the wagon and become physically abusive towards me. I was given counselling again from a child counsellor I had seen a few years earlier. She was great, I could let of steam, scream and shout all while being allowed to be the child I hadn’t ever been. By the time I was 14 I had been back home and back in care several times, again my mum was physically abusive towards me on several occasions. I felt like a yo-yo, back and forth, up and down. In school I was a loner, I didn’t have many friends; there was a few that were aware of things and supported me, an in addition of having a mentor. I was the one that people made jokes about; I was different, I didn’t live at home with my mum, other people didn’t really understand my situation and they’d make fun out of the fact that my mum was an alcoholic. I felt isolated, like no one liked me or wanted me around. I began to feel nervous about being around people, although generally I appeared to be this bubbly person who was always happy (I was good at putting on a mask) – no one saw how things had actually affected me over the years, they didn’t understand either as most of them couldn’t relate, only those really close to me knew what was going on. I continued through school bobbing in and out of depressive and anxious bouts, controlling it fairly well from 15 when I had a stable foster placement where I was treated well.

When I was 16 I fell pregnant, I wasn’t with the dad… ‘Oh s**t, what am I going to do?’ I thought about all my options and after a few days of knowing I was pregnant I was madly in love with this little blob inside me, I moved back home to my mum and everything was great throughout my pregnancy, my mum had stopped drinking and was being supportive and we were getting on great. My little girl was born in autumn 2007. I was 17 years old, I had this tiny being in front of me needing me, completely relying on me ‘I can and will do this she needs me’… I wanted to be the best mum I could and prove everyone wrong about ‘teenage mums’; I breastfed her so I knew she was getting the best I could give her, all her things were new, she was always immaculate, I wanted to be the best that I could… After 3 weeks of horrific pain and a baby stuck to me permanently I gave up breastfeeding, I’ve never felt so bad in my life and that is where it all began again.

I felt bad, I felt guilty, like I had let her down… I hadn’t – I had done my best – but it didn’t feel like that at the time. I went to see my doctor straight away this time as I didn’t want anything to effect the way I looked after my little girl, I was prescribed fluoxetine, an anti-depressant. Diagnosed with postnatal depression and pretty much just sent on my way, I was taking the medication for a few weeks and I felt worse, they actually made me feel like I wanted to do myself harm, and after another two weeks I came off them because the side effects were horrendous and made me feel worse physically and mentally. After a few months of battling by myself, using the strategies I had learnt through the years; once again I was ‘okay’. I continued to be okay for a good while afterwards too, and when my little girl was about 10 months I met someone; we had known each other a while, he was older than me and my mum disagreed… He made me feel special, I felt lovable for the first time in my life and I felt like everything I had been through was worth it for this. I finally felt accepted and it was amazing.

Shortly after getting together, to everyone’s surprise and a few people’s horror we moved in together and quite soon after that I fell pregnant again. We were on cloud 9… Unfortunately after 3 weeks of knowing I was pregnant I had a miscarriage (I was bitten by a stray cat which caused septicaemia and led to a miscarriage). We were heartbroken and again it made me feel bad as it was my job to protect this little life and I had failed to do that, I know it wasn’t really my fault but at the time I felt like it was. After the miscarriage we moved in with my partners parents to save up for a bigger house and a few months later I found out I was pregnant again. This time we told very few people, just to save heartache having to tell people if anything had happened. It was a worrying 9 months but in spring 2010 I gave birth to my second daughter (my partners first). We were delighted and everything was perfect, again I breastfed but this time with the notion of stopping when I needed too with out feeling guilty about it because I had done the best I could do. Roughly 10 days after our daughter was born I received a phone call that would haunt me for years to come.

My Nan, my rock, the most inspirational woman I had ever had in in life had lung cancer and had been given a maximum of 6 weeks to live. Due to the severity of the cancer and her age there was nothing they could do for her. Five short weeks later, she passed away in hospital surrounded by all of us. The next few weeks and months would be the hardest I had ever faced in my life, in the first few days after her death I just cried. I have never actually felt as broken as I did right then and I had been in some pretty low places over the years. I had to try and pull myself together for sake of my partner and my girls – I couldn’t carry on like this, just basically functioning and doing what I HAD to do. About 6 months after my Nan passed away we moved house again, a fresh start, or so I thought. I fought with my Nan’s passing for a fair few years, but I never dealt with it I accepted it, I ran on autopilot, forgetting important things, leaving the housework and just generally not being myself; I ended up going to the GP because I needed help to deal with my grief. It had been 3 years, I didn’t want medication this time though but my doctor strongly advised it, I was prescribed citalopram and was referred for counselling which actually helped. I faced a lot of demons in those sessions, dealt with why I couldn’t let go and why her death had destroyed me like it had done. A lot of it boiled down to anger stemming from childhood, my Nan was always there for me.

After the counselling I felt great, I weaned myself off my medication with my doctors guidance, I even went back to college to get some qualifications. Once I left college I applied for every care job in my area and within a few months I got an interview, a week later I got the job. I loved it, I’d always wanted to work in the healthcare sector and the aim was to start at the bottom and work my way up. I’d been there almost a year when I again fell pregnant, we were over the moon as we’d been trying trying for quite a while. During the early weeks of pregnancy, work was fine, but due to the complex needs of the people I was caring for and the fact we were extremely short staffed that soon changed. I began getting agitated and upset in the mornings before I went to work and I would dread every shift, yet I loved what I did, by the time I was 15 weeks pregnant I had thought about handing my notice in for the sake of my mental health several times; I was taking my work home with me, which is never good in my line of work.

I worked until I was 19 weeks pregnant when I finally bit the bullet and handed my notice in. I thought it was for the best but in hindsight it wasn’t, although it was stressful it gave me a distraction from my own mind. For 12 hours I was this big ball of fun, the joker, I got on with my colleagues and had fun whilst working. Ironic really considering what was really going on in my head! The rest of my pregnancy went well and I gave birth to the most beautiful baby boy I have ever laid eyes on. From the minute he was born, I worried. I wasn’t depressed, just anxious. Like the girls, I breastfed him and to my absolute amazement, I managed just over 6 months, I ate well, I slept so well (our son slept through from day one) and I was generally happy. When I stopped feeding him myself, I expected to feel guilty like I had done before this time I didn’t, I was fine, it was amazing! I finally felt like life was going my way…

Shortly after this my mum was on one of her usual drinking binges and was unhappy because I wouldn’t let her see the children; we’d had an on-off relationship for the previous 8 years due to her inappropriate behaviour and drinking which led to me me stopping her from having contact with them. She did the unthinkable and tried to have my children taken off me, luckily everyone saw through her lies and the children are still where they should be, at home with mummy and daddy… This again raised that horrible darkness that I hated so much! It made me question myself, ‘what have I done to deserve this?’ How can someone that is supposed to love me do this?’ 

Now almost 7 months later I’ve been lower than I’ve ever been in my life, until recently when I realised I can’t keep myself down there, I don’t want treating with medication so I have to make myself feel good! I have done it before…  I need to be proud of myself and what I have been through! I need to realise that I have everything in the world to be happy about and that is my little family.

I will get there eventually, I have support from good friends and family. In a way I’m glad of the life I’ve had, and made me who I am and I will find that person again. For now I will keep going; Life is precious.”

– By Emma Burns.

 

Stories are still needed!

Do you have a mental health/recovery story of your own that you’d like to reach out and share to others? Whether it be overcoming depression to addiction to eating disorders… no matter what your area, there will be a chance that your experience will touch someone elses life.

Send your story with your name to themanicyears@gmail.com and i’d be happy to publish on The Manic Years.

Sharing saves lives –

M x

Want to write for the blog? We need your stories!

quote-on-stigma-health-56-healthyplace
For the past few months people have been submitting in their experiences of mental health from a wide range of disorders and issues in the Sharing Stories series… stories are still needed!

Do you have a mental health/recovery story of your own that you’d like to reach out and share to others? Whether it be overcoming depression to addiction to eating disorders… no matter what your area, there will be a chance that your experience will touch someone elses life.

Send your story with your name and location to themanicyears@gmail.com and i’d be happy to publish on The Manic Years.

Sharing saves lives.

“Sharing Stories” – Battling Depression; the aftermath of Bullying, by Samantha Walkden.

sharing stories, the manic years

“My name is Sam. I’m 23. And I suffer with depression. I was diagnosed in 2011, at the age of 19, although I have recovered and relapsed a few times since then. To be honest people had been raising concerns about my mental health since I was about 16, but society has some pre-conceived notion that “children and young people can’t be depressed because they don’t have anything to be depressed about” and because of that I believed that I couldn’t be, that I wasn’t old enough to be depressed. There is still very much a stigma surrounding mental illness – particularly that of young people – which means that many people are not diagnosed early enough, and go on struggling far longer than they should. I am going to share two very different experiences with depression in the hope that others can find courage, strength, or even comfort from the knowledge that they aren’t alone in their suffering, that someone else understands.

 

Episode 1

My first major depressive episode started just before the end of my first year at university. My flatmates (and friends) had started going out without me and then making excuses when I asked them about it. With only a few weeks to go before the end of the year this wouldn’t have been a problem had I not signed on to live with them the following year. I went to university 200 miles from home, and Adam (my boyfriend) was studying in Brighton, so this left me feeling very isolated and alone.

I had hoped that getting away for the summer would sort things out but none of them talked to me much over that summer. I was busy seeing friends and family and I just assumed that they were too. The start of the new year rolled around and we all moved into the house. We all (bar one) went on a big night out to celebrate being back, and I was really glad to be invited. I thought this surely showed that I was right. But then as the night progressed I found myself being left on my own a lot. The guys I was with just kept disappearing and not telling me where they were going. I was a young girl, in a nightclub, and they just kept leaving me on my own. Annoyed and a bit upset I just left. Walked home alone, and went to bed. I had expected texts and missed calls when I got up, asking me where I’d disappeared to. There were none. It was like they hadn’t even noticed I was gone.

I don’t really remember when things got so bad for me. I don’t remember what actually led to me getting so depressed I had to see a doctor. I remember that night out, and then the night that everything went horribly wrong – but I was already on my tablets by then. What happened in between is a mystery.

The decision to see the doctor was not an easy one. I had been denying that I even needed to for months. I hadn’t spoken to my dad in weeks because I was avoiding having to admit to him just how down I had become. Adam and I were fighting all the time – mainly because he wanted to go out with his friends, and I wanted him to stay in and talk to me. It was after one of these arguments that I realised I needed help. My depression was ripping my relationships apart, and I knew that I couldn’t let that happen, so the next morning I called my doctors. The university doctors had a ‘call in at about 8:30am and get an appointment the same day’ policy so I was seen that afternoon. The doctor was really helpful, he went through my symptoms and the mood questionnaire that they have to do to gauge how serious the depression is – I scored 19 out of 27, which I was told is moderate to severe depression. I was prescribed fluoxetine, referred to the university counselling service and told to come back in 4-6 weeks. My dosage would eventually be increased, and then my medication was changed, and dosage increased again before it actually began to help me, but it was a start.

As I said, the next thing I remember is when everything in my house really deteriorated. We had an electricity meter, and it had run out of credit. We would all soon be disappearing for Christmas so I just thought “I’ll stick a load on there and it should last until we get back in January”. We had a facebook page with all 6 of us in it so that we could get in touch with everyone in the house regardless of where they were. I worked out what they all owed me and just stuck a post in there asking for it back ASAP. The response was “You need to work that out between 5. Sarah doesn’t pay bills.” I was really confused. “What do you mean she doesn’t pay bills?” They had all had a house meeting, which they were adamant I was at, where Sarah had raised issue with the fact that she had one of the smaller rooms in the house but was paying the same rent and bills as the rest of us. “But Joe has a room the same size as hers?” I argued back. Apparently, he had agreed to this because he had a job. It was ridiculous. For about 3 months I had been paying 1/5th of the bills rather than the 1/6th I believed I was paying, and I wasn’t happy about it. I was angry because they hadn’t included me in this decision, and because it wasn’t fair anyway. The next thing I knew I was receiving texts from “friends” who lived in another house. I had about ten people all hurling abuse at me. I stopped answering my phone. I removed myself from the facebook page. Once they realised that I was ignoring them they came hammering on my door, shouting at me as I buried my face in my pillow and sobbed. And just like that, all the work I had put into getting better unravelled at my feet.

I cried for hours. I had a complete breakdown. And at some point I realised I needed to speak to my dad. He answered the phone and was greeted with myself sobbing so hysterically he couldn’t even understand what I was saying. I told him everything and we talked till about 4am. Just knowing that he knew made me feel better about the situation.

 

Later that same week Adam received messages from some of them.

 

“What the f*** is wrong with your girlfriend?”

 

“I don’t know what you mean.”

 

“You know exactly what I mean. She’s a complete f***ing nutter. You deserve a medal for putting up with that psycho.”

 

My dad always refers to them as bullies but these guys didn’t really terrorise me. There is one instance where they really crossed a line. I had been out for a friend’s birthday, drank way too much, passed out and had to be carried home. My friend, knowing the situation I was in at home, locked my door after she had gotten me into bed, but had to leave the keys outside my room. So my housemates decided that it would be really funny to trash my room. They threw toilet paper, and cotton buds, and teabags all over the room. They took my tampons out of the wrappers and threw them everywhere. They ripped open teabags and emptied the leaves in my bed, and all over the floor. They put the microwave in there, and one of their bikes. I woke up and my room was a bombsite. They saw it as a joke. I didn’t. I ended up living there until the end of the year (because I couldn’t afford to get out of the contract) and they never went out of their way to make my life miserable. I did a good enough job of that myself and seeing them made me feel worse so I just avoided them, isolating myself even further. A couple of them did try to speak to me a few times but I just wasn’t interested.

The following months were the lowest of my life. I went to hardly any lectures, didn’t do any of my assignments and skipped my exams. Eventually I failed the year. Being in the house made things worse, and I tried to be there as little as possible, resulting in my being at work a lot. And on days when I couldn’t even get out of bed to go to work I would ring in sick. I rang in sick a lot. I would lie in bed with TV shows like Supernatural or Criminal Minds on my laptop, but I wasn’t really watching them. Even now Adam will say “but you must remember that happening back in season 4” and I just don’t. I was getting through 11 or 12 episodes a day, just staring blankly at the screen. And this was a good day. I would leave my room to wash my clothes and go to work. I was eating at work, and if I wasn’t working then I was living on the stash of crisps and things I kept in my room. I’d ended up with the en suite so using the bathroom wasn’t an issue either.

When things were a little worse I’d leave my bed to use the bathroom, and that’s it. I once just lay there for 4 or 5 days. I didn’t eat, didn’t shower – I literally just lay in bed in front of my laptop, and when I went to sleep I’d just put it on the floor next to my bed, ready for the following morning.

But when things were bad, they were really bad. I would scream into my pillow, and I would cry for hours. I would rake my nails down my face, or my arms, and pull handfuls of my hair, trying to pull it out. I once sat and scratched into my stomach with a sewing needle, it went a bit like a chicken scratch, rather than bleeding like I’d expected. I would throw things. I once threw my phone at the wall during an argument with Adam. On my worst days I felt worthless. I felt like I’d failed everyone, convinced that everyone was disappointed in me because of how badly I’d messed my life up. I genuinely believed that my depression was my fault. I convinced myself that everyone – Adam, my parents, my siblings, my friends – would be better off, and happier without me there to “ruin everything”. I can remember texting Adam one of these times. I told him that I felt like I had nothing left to live for, that I was a massive failure, that I’d let everyone down and was just ruining their lives with my depression. I told him that I wanted to die. His response actually jarred some sense into me. He called me, in tears, and asked how I could say that. How could I even think of doing that to him, and to my family and friends? He told me that this would be what ruined their lives, not my depression. He told me that nobody was disappointed in me because the depression wasn’t my fault, they were just worried about me. I hated hearing him cry. And I hated myself for making him cry. But what he said really did help me in the long run.

 

I don’t remember any long drawn out recovery process here. I did do a really stupid thing, and just stopped taking my meds after my mum had made a comment about how I needed to “grow a backbone, come off my meds and learn to deal with it.” I think my hope had been that I would come crashing back down and that would prove to her that I needed the meds to keep me afloat. But that didn’t happen. I was just better.

 

Episode 2

In the September of 2012 I moved into a new house, with new housemates. And the eventual relapse into depression that happened this time was basically a mirror image of the first. With 3 distinct differences. Firstly, the girls I lived with, who contributed massively to my depression, knew everything I’d been through the previous year. Secondly, they did go out of their way to make things difficult for me. Thirdly, and most importantly, I did not let depression grind me down the way it had before.

 

I thought that my depression had coincided with the deterioration of my relationship with the girls, but writing this actually reminded me that I had already begun. In March 2013 my Grandad died, after a very short battle with lung cancer. Throughout these same months, the mum of one of my housemates was also battling cancer in her uterus. At no point would any of them talk to me about my Grandad, ask me how he was doing, or how we were holding up. They felt that it was unfair to discuss my Grandad with me because thinking about cancer upset one of the girls too much. And although I didn’t want to be cold or heartless about it, my Grandad was dying, her mum (we knew by this point) was going to be fine. When he died not one of them offered an “I’m sorry” or even an ounce of sympathy, because the other girl’s mum was still having her chemo.

The downward spiral started with them leaving me out a lot, like before. They would make a big deal about getting me come and join them, only to get up and disappear, leaving me sat on my own, a short while later. When I asked them about it after this happening a few days in a row they got very defensive, and specifically mentioned things I hadn’t actually said. Then they got really nasty. A few weeks after that we were supposed to be renewing the contract to stay in the house the following year, and that they made no secret of the fact that they didn’t want to live with me anymore. I remember going to the estate agents and paying my renewal fee and signing on for the following year before they could; mainly because I was going to Brighton to stay with Adam for the summer and didn’t have time to find anywhere else to live, but also just to spite them. They didn’t really speak to me after that.

In the September, we all returned to the house. One of the girls wouldn’t stay there any more, as she said she couldn’t live in the same house as me, especially after the way I’d treated her when her mum was sick. Two of them really went to town trying to break me. I had a job requiring me to be up at 5:30am, and they knew this. It wasn’t long before the doors were slamming, and they were shouting on the landing, or playing loud music at silly o’clock, just because they knew I was getting up early. They would talk about me really loudly as if I wasn’t there, but they knew that I was. They would take my laundry out of the airing cupboard and just leave it on the floor outside my room. me because thinking about cancer upset one of the girls too much. They bought a unit for the bathroom that only had three shelves. They spent a year of their lives making it completely transparent to me that I wasn’t wanted in that house. They went out of their way to make things really horrible for me. And it worked.

As before, I went into isolation mode. I was eating out a lot. If I wasn’t at work or at uni then I was hiding in my room. I worked really hard with all my uni stuff that year, and I don’t really remember much of it. It became an ongoing cycle of getting up, going to work, going to uni/the library/the archives and then just going home and going to bed.

But that year I also had a lot to get out of bed for. My job was in a school, so I found that really fulfilling, and couldn’t really ring in sick. It was also my final year and I knew that I needed to work really hard to get the degree I’d spent 4 years working towards. But most importantly I was determined to not let myself get into the state I had been previously. I didn’t go back onto medication, although I considered it a few times. Despite the fact that I was actually being treated worse, I handled my second depression a lot better. My previous experience had provided me with the strength and resilience I needed to fight it again. When I’d been off my medication for a year I got a tattoo as a reminder that I did beat it once, and that I can beat it again. I’d been the lowest of the low and I knew that I never wanted to go back there so I fought against it, where before I had given in to it. And honestly, that really does make a difference.

 

****

 

In closing I just have a few pieces of advice for anyone out there who is struggling with depression.

 

Firstly, believe in yourself. I cannot stress enough how important this is. I know how hard it can be sometimes, but you are stronger than you think. I’ve been the lowest a person really can be, and I’m still here. I know that it might feel like the weight of your depression is crushing the life out of you, but you can fight it. You can beat it. You just need to believe that you can.

Secondly, don’t burn bridges because people “won’t understand.” Yes, it is true that unless you’ve been depressed yourself you can’t understand what it’s like, meaning that there is every chance that your boyfriend, or your mum, or your best friend can’t know exactly how you feel. But people can understand a lot more than we sometimes give them credit for and anyone who truly wants to be in your life, and anyone who is worth your time and effort, will try to understand what you’re going through. They’ll be as empathetic and as supportive as they can be, and you can’t ask any more than that. The support of Adam, and my friends and family was crucial to my recovery every single time I relapsed. So pick up your phone, go on facebook, send an email or a tweet – whatever you choose – but give that person you’ve been avoiding because “they won’t understand” a chance. They might surprise you. And if you really can’t bring yourself to do that, then please just reach out to someone.

Thirdly, do something with your day. Again, I know how difficult this can be sometimes, and I have definitely been guilty of lying around in bed and wallowing in self-pity, and you know what, that’s okay. But if you’re anything like me you might also find that this can also make you feel worse. I used to berate myself all the time for wasting the day and being unproductive, for not eating or changing my clothes. It was like I was fighting a losing battle. One minute my mind is telling me that I can’t get out of bed, that I don’t have the energy to get up and eat; and then the next it’s telling me that I’ve wasted a whole day, and that I’ll never amount to anything just lying in my bed. It’s a vicious circle I think we’ve all found ourselves in. So do something with your day. Get out of bed. Get out of those stinky horrible PJs you’ve been laying around in. Have a shower. Put on nice clean PJs and get back in bed. If that is literally all you can do in a day, do it! You’ll feel loads better just knowing that you have been productive, and I always find showers leave me feeling quite refreshed anyway. It helps. I promise.

And finally, don’t be ashamed of your depression. I’m not. It’s part of who I am, and it’s made me the person I am today. Any person who makes jokes, or treats you differently, or belittles any of the causes and reasons for your depression is not worth your time. Cut them out of your life, because you don’t need that. You didn’t choose to be depressed. You (probably) don’t enjoy being depressed. But that doesn’t change the fact that it there. Learn to live with it. Learn the signs that you’re getting low, and the best ways to deal with that. Own it. Don’t let it own you, and never ever be ashamed of who you are.”

-By Samantha Walkden.

Samantha writes about her personal encouters with depression on her blog Me, Myself and my Depression.

 

Please drop me an email on themanicyears@gmail.com if you want to take part and be featured in “Sharing Stories”, if you have a story to tell or you just want to share your thoughts about your experiences with mental health. I am so proud of everyone who has contributed and who has joined me in this journey so far, and I do hope our army gets stronger. A bigger voice. A fight to speak louder. – M

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