A Little Bit Of Honesty...

*Dome to Dawn Charity Walk For Mental Health*

It's been a year since I've blogged and in that time I've been through a lot and learned so much about myself as a result.

Mental health is something a lot of us are struggling with yet feel embarrassed about telling anyone. I'm one of those people, having struggled with depression and anxiety since high school. Things came to a head this time last year for me where I had no option but to deal with it. Well, there was one other option which I came very close to...

For the past couple of years some of my loved ones have been dealing with health problems and as a result I've found myself in the role of carer. It's been a total role reversal for me as I've been suffering from lupus for over twenty years and relied on other people to prop me up. Suddenly I was the one who had to organise multiple appointments, talk to health professionals, and argue with those making our lives even more difficult than they already were!

When it was pointed out to me that I should look after myself they were met with the reply, "It doesn't matter about me," because that's exactly what I thought. I wasn't the patient here, it was my job to support, not think about myself. Except gradually things became too much for me. One more little setback or problem and I'd be in floods of tears. No help to anyone.

I did recognise the signs of depression as every now and then I do descend into that black pit of despair but I always know I'll pull myself out of it. This was different. There didn't seem to be any way out of the misery we were enduring and when I went to sleep at night (which was rare due to the insomnia!) I often wished I wouldn't wake up again. When the newspapers were declaring it was the end of the world I was hoping it was true. Without ever actually saying the words I just wished I was dead.

I took myself to my GP who, through trial and error, got me on some medication to improve my mood and help me sleep. I truly believe if it wasn't for his understanding and that of the counsellor he referred me to, I wouldn't be here today.

The first questions my counsellor asked was about my support system. How often was I seeing my friends or family? The truth was I'd pushed them all away. Circumstances had meant I couldn't leave those I was caring for and hadn't gone out without them for nearly two years. I didn't tell anyone how bad things were and even when I was able to get away for a coffee or a chat, I declined. As I told my counsellor, I didn't want to depress everyone else because that was all that was going on in my life, all I had to talk about and there was nothing anyone could do to fix it anyway. She pointed out that that's what friends are for, to listen and understand, and there were probably times I'd been the shoulder to cry on but I didn't want to see that. I turned down a lot of invitations I now regret.

It took a while for me to turn things around. I was seeing my counsellor for over a month before I eventually opened up about how low I was, by which time I believe I was having some sort of breakdown. My GP had warned me it was a matter of 'when, not if' I'd have a breakdown and suggested I should make arrangements for going into hospital. Thankfully, I didn't get to that stage but there were days, weeks, I was doing nothing but lying on my bed crying and sleeping. Somehow, during all of this I still managed to write a book. It was late and probably chronicles a lot of what was going on in my life at the time but I insisted I had to do it. Just as I insisted I had to look after everyone on my own, adding more layers of stress until I eventually collapsed under the weight of it all. I will add here, I didn't tell my editor what was going on and she only found out after the fact, as did my friends and family.

Thankfully, because I'm a stubborn cow and wanted to 'get fixed', I was able to open up to my counsellor and you know what, all that stuff we think we've put behind us is really still there. Years of emotional abuse, grief, low self-esteem and all those low-lifes who take advantage of it were still lurking in the background compounding the stress and anxiety I was already struggling with. This is the point where I advise everyone to get therapy. It's not until you talk through all this crap and can see it from a different perspective that you can finally move on from it.

It was tough to go over the past but it needed to be done, dealt with once and for all and the light began to creep back in. This is why I wanted to write this post. This is deeply personal stuff here but I know so many of us go through this. I want to tell you that you do come through the other side. My motto which drove me through the worst time of my life was, 'You have to go through all this shit to get to the good stuff,' and it's made me appreciate what I have.

We're not in much better circumstances than we were but I'm better equipped to deal with whatever problems crop up. I can honestly say I'm in a happier place than I was a year ago and have talked several other people down from the ledge too by sharing my experience.

This post is already longer than I anticipated so I'll add a follow-up later about what I've done to improve my daily life. Feel free to add your own experiences or coping mechanisms so we can help each other where we can.

The most important lesson I ever learned was the importance of self-care. We do matter.

Karin xx

I don't want to make this a tacky promo piece but the theme of this book I was writing at the time is about making time for yourself and it is only 99p.

From Fling To Wedding Ring