Unbreakable

Monday has come and gone. It's 12:30am Tuesday morning and I'm feeling pretty good! I've managed to smoke less today and I even faced the postman. This blog will be short and sweet as I only have 4% battery on this tablet and I want to get something posted. What did you achieve today? Even if you stayed in bed all day, you survived Monday with me. You didn't give up and you carried on. That in itself deserves praise. Well done to all my Monday survivors, let's take on Tuesday! Leah x

OK, until I figure out a way to add pages on this thing, everything will have to go in one place. I'm going to talk about something many people with a mental illness feel embarrassed about - hygiene. As it stands it has been 3 weeks since I last showered, brushed my teeth or brushed my hair. I've been in the same clothes for 3 days and I also slept in them last night too. Disgusting? Probably. Do I care? Nope! If you looked at me, you wouldn't say I was dirty. Maybe the hair might give it a way a little (hurrah for dry shampoo!) but other than that, I look "normal". In all honesty I spend pretty much 24 hours in my flat and I don't do much to get into a sweat. Unmotivated? Probably. Lazy? Most certainly not! It's not that I don't want to bathe, I really do! I love the feeling of a shower or a bath just washing away my day. However, when the shower looks like Everest and the bathroom feels like over stuffed suitcase, it's hard to s...

Its currently 12:09am on Monday morning. Today brings a new wave of dread and anxiety. Sundays are always hard, I very rarely sleep on a Sunday night. I'm worrying about the rest of the week, living until Friday night when I know nobody will be knocking at my door, nobody will be ringing the house phone and if I have any post, I can leave it until Monday. I want a job, but as I'm living in a small town and I don't drive the opportunity for a job is very slim. I can't afford childcare fees either so there's added pressure to find something suitable. My partner isn't in the best of health so unfortunately, he can't look after the little one. Things feel hard today and at the moment my only coping mechanism is to retreat into myself. I hate Mondays, until I get a job, I will always hate Mondays. Leah x

I've had quite a few discussions over the past 3 years as to why I have a child if I have depression. 1) my life is not your f'ing concern, 2) my life is not your f'ing concern, 3) my life is not your f'ing concern! But seriously though, why did I decide to have a child when my mental health was at one of its lowest points? The answer? I didn't. It happened. End of. I didn't actually want a child at the time of conception, both my partner and I were taking necessary precautions and I also thought I couldn't have a child after I lost my period a year previous. When I found out I was pregnant I was 8 and a half stone but in reality I wanted to weigh a stone less. I was exercising for 2 hours every day and running for an hour every other day. My diet consisted of: 1 apple 10 cups of coffee 1 yogurt I'd also had my medications upped by the doctor and that was causing weighloss too. I loved those tablets so much, I lost weight, I felt naus...

Apparently I have to put a warning otherwise: no post! So, I guess it's time to get down to the nitty gritty type of stuff. I'm not actually sure how to start this bit. Its not that I have any trouble talking about it, I'm just not sure where to begin. I think a story might be best. "I was raped", I said. She sat on the bed, looking at me. I already knew she didn't believe me. "Are you sure?" She questioned. "Yes, he did it while everyone was asleep" I replied, numb. I'd been through this before, I knew how it would end. She left the room and returned 10 minutes later. "He said he went in your room because you invited him in, you both went to sleep and he woke up with you teling him you'd snap his arm in 3 places". She seemed more annoyed that I'd threatened her grandson. "Yes, I did say that" I replied. "Well, he didn't deny it happened. This is why I say sleep in separate bedrooms". ...

It's 5:50am and sleep has decided, yet again to allude me. I've been trying to find a way to get my blog "out there", comment on other blogs, use twitter, use Facebook, link-around type things ARGH!! I've no idea what I'm doing! I've wanted to delete this blog at least 20 times over the past hour yet at the same time, it's something I want and possibly need to do. I'm always fearful that what I say could be classed as stupid or insignificant, but is it just me feeling stupid and insignificant? From a very young age, I was always made to feel that my voice didn't matter. I'd constantly be talked over, I was always in the wrong, any fact I spoke had to be looked up by someone else otherwise I wouldn't be believed. I remember an argument mothers partner and I had. Are cows omnivores or herbivores? Simply that. He was adamant that an omnivore just ate grass, I simply corrected him by saying it was a herbivore. I swear, you would have ...

I've had a couple of people ask me, "why unbreakable little me, when you're a full grown woman". Good question! Unbreakable little me represents where my depression and all the rest of my craziness comes from. My adult self is actually someone who is able to cope, mouthy, funny and is pretty intelligent. My child self however, is scared, cries at conflict, wants to hide and thinks the worst of herself. My counsellor found it quite funny that I separate the two considering both 'self's' are in one body, but to me it's quite simple. In a way, I became 'damaged' as a child. The child me never learnt how to deal with the emotions she felt, she also never realised that the behaviour of people towards her was wrong, therefore the abuse pattern was never broken as abusive behaviour was seen as 'normal'. I wish I was educated enough to express the words in my head! Because the child me was the only way I had ever known, I don't think...

I saw a video a few years back about depression, it was called "I had a black dog, his name was depression" published by the World Heath Organisation (2012). It was the first video that I had seen that didn't try to "jazz-up" depression. I've seen many videos that are the equivalent of the kitten on a wire poster saying "hang in there". No, I don't need that, I can " hang in there" just fine. I need something to relate to when I feel alone, something that says "yes, I understand". This video showed that, in fact I still watch it occasionally even now. I was first diagnosed with depression when I was 15. I kept getting horrible migraines, nausea and food didn't seem so appealing anymore. When I went to the doctors (the first time) he brushed it off as I was " too young to be depressed". You're never too young for depression. Depression doesn't care if you're young or old, black or white, tall or ...

Sleep is essential . Sleep is not an option . Most people with a mental health problem will tell you that more often than not, they have trouble sleeping. The funny thing is, sleep is essential in maintaining ones own mental health. So why is sleep such a problem for people with a mental illness? Worrying. That's my problem. Whenever I try to sleep, the anxiety cloud comes with the intensity of Thor's Hammer, smashing the Giants in their face. I start to remember things that have happened during the day. Maybe I didn't need to tell my daughter off for dropping the cup. Maybe my partner was right and I was in fact, wrong. Next, I'm thinking about stuff that happened last year, things that have been long forgotten about. In the same flitting memory, I'm remembering when my mums boyfriend shouted at me, and how I could have reacted differently. Instead of being silent and crying, maybe I should have shouted back. All of these scenarios mean nothing to me now, s...

I've wanted to tell my story for a long time. For nearly 30 years I have been silent. This, is me. I'm not too sure how to start this blog, I'll be honest. I get moments of clarity that are quickly shrouded in silence. I've been meaning to create some sort of blog to tell my story, even if nobody else reads it. I guess, in a way, this is my catharsis: my release, a way to purge all the negative emotions I don't show to anyone else. I'm currently 29 and I am a survivor. I have survived rape, physical beatings, mental abuse, eating disorders, depression and attempted suicide. I have been in unhealthy relationships, I have abused drugs and alcohol, I also lost my family when they found out about the abuse in my life. I'm still here though! As I write the first page of my blog, my partner is sleeping, my daughter is watching a programme about cats and my dogs are doing their best to get into my bin. It's a little over freezing outside and it feels t...