Gum on My Shoe

By Amy Cullis Ever since I started to become mentally ill, I have noticed a distinct drop in the amount of times I have been invited out by friends. I have even lost friends because of the effects of my illnesses. Many of the times I’ve been invited out, I know I’ve cancelled and this probably leads to someone wondering if I really do want to meet up with them. The truth is, I do though. I really truly do. I have Generalised Anxiety Disorder, Depression, Borderline Personality Disorder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. It’s hard to believe that one person can accumulate so many mental illnesses, but it is possible. Each of these illnesses affect my functioning in one way or another, and pretty much all of them can affect my ability to get out of the house and meet up with people. My Anxiety and OCD make me worry about humiliating myself in public. I fear losing control of my bladder through not being able to get to a toilet in time. I have to co...

By Kailey Fitzgerald Being in recovery from drug addiction and having a mental illness concurrently can be extremely mentally taxing. On my off days, when I am not keeping up with my daily routines and neglect my self-care mechanisms, my life can seem chaotic and unmanageable. I often say it feels like I am just constantly putting out one fire after another. On the other hand, when I do manage my dual diagnosis well, I am truly happy. Finding coping mechanisms and a healthy daily routine that worked for me took a lot of time and effort through trial and error. What may work for one person, may not work for another. It wasn’t until I went to an addiction treatment center and began true, honest, and rigorous therapy that I finally found what worked for me. Go to Therapy Regularly Going to therapy and giving it a real, honest shot is what saved my life. For years I was repulsed by laying down on some brown over-sized couch and telling some stranger with a medical degree all o...

By Maya Kelley My childhood was not an easy one, despite my mother’s efforts to keep me safe. I grew up in a loving home, was provided with everything I needed, and was exceptionally bright from an early age. Even with being provided the best foundation I could have to excel in life, I turned down a path of self-destruction. I was filled with hatred for myself, mistrust towards others, and a general apathetic outlook towards life. Early Childhood Trauma At around the age of seven, I was mauled by my family dog. I slipped and fell, let out a high-pitched scream, and the dog’s prey drive must have kicked in. This incident left me nearly dead, with scars all over my face and neck. I was happy while I was in the hospital; I got to participate in arts and crafts while I recovered with my loved ones around me. Once I went back to school, the kids were not as welcoming. I was bullied for the scars on my face which left me with extremely low self-esteem at a young and impressionabl...

By Kailey Fitzgerald Growing up, I always felt like I didn’t fit in; I felt like I was a little off when compared to my peers. I had this terrible and seemingly constant feeling in the pit of my stomach when I would try to talk to other kids, and a ringing voice in my head that told me I wasn’t good enough. When I would accomplish something, I would find the reasons that it didn’t amount to anything and head down on a path of self-destruction. Everything appeared perfect from the outside, but from the inside, I was absolutely falling apart. I managed to maintain until I was around twelve years old. I started to have violent emotional outbursts that I couldn’t seem to control, and it began to affect my relationship with my mom. She noticed that I wasn’t behaving normally and decided to send me to a psychiatrist. At first, when I was diagnosed with Intermittent explosive disorder and social anxiety I thought my whole life was over. I was only twelve years old and society had led...

By Tracy Leppla Suicide is a very touchy subject with me. Why? Because I have attempted suicide four times in the past. Obviously I didn’t succeed or I wouldn’t be here today sharing my story. I remember what it was like back then. How I felt. The darkness completely took over. I felt completely lost. Everything seemed like it was caving in and there was no way out. I had no desire to live anymore. I just wanted the pain to stop and I thought that was the only solution. At the time of my suicide attempts I did not understand my PTSD, my anxiety or my panic attacks. I was angry about everything. I hated everything and everyone. I was tired of being bullied at school. After being beat up for the fourth time at school I decided I wasn’t going to take it anymore. I started fighting back. My fighting turned from survival mode to wanting to win mode. I wanted to show all those bullies not to mess with me and it worked. But it didn’t take the anger and pain away. I was at home alone o...

Anonymous I’ve always told myself that I would never submit anything anonymously. I guess the vain part of me wanted the glory. It wasn’t until I considered telling this part of my story that I felt I couldn’t truly be me. That’s not to say that I’m ashamed of what I’ve been through. I’m trying hard to work past that feeling, and this is step one. I didn’t think I would ever be sitting here sharing so much of myself with the outside world. I kept my mouth shut to protect other people, mostly my parents. I wouldn’t have been able to tell them. It would have caused more grief than I could ever stand to put them through. My mom and dad are gone now, and it’s time to stop worrying that I will disappoint them. The other people involved are still alive, and I don’t care about protecting them. I’m doing this anonymously now to protect myself. Something I wish I could have done before now. It’s all still incredibly painful, even all these years later. The nightmares and the PTSD are ...

By Lea It is only when we lose what we had that we realise just what we had. This is true in different elements of life. Sadly, this year it was true for me when it came to my Mental Wealth. Between the ages of seven to twenty-two my Mental Wealth was lost, eaten alive and consumed by a range of people, from bullies at school, to the lack of trust shown by professionals who had the training to know better, and others. All this in addition to a rough deck of cards life had thrown my way. Over those years, though, I was fortunate to spend a twenty-four week admission to The Crisis Recovery Unit, a specialist unit which was part of The Maudsley Hospital, which specialised in attempting to reach those for whom self-injury had become a coping mechanism. I guess the best analogy I can make is that my body, my life, my experiences, my emotions were like an ostrich egg. The staff at the CRU chipped away slowly and methodically to break down the barriers I had put up as an act of self-...

In September I wrote a post about being an informal patient on a psychiatric unit . It is with great sadness that I am now able to write about life as a sectioned patient. Seeing it from both ends has been a real eye-opener for me. I came back into the psychiatric unit after only managing four weeks of discharge. I found those four weeks a real struggle: things happened and I couldn’t cope. I was first admitted as an informal patient after being on a section 136 by the police. Everything was going ok, but I had a few days where I struggled. I got really upset and angry at myself and ended up using destructive coping mechanisms. Unfortunately, this meant that on Friday 13th October—a day that is known to be unlucky—I was placed on section 3 of the Mental Health Act with no leave for three days. This was a shock to me. I didn’t expect the knock on my door asking me to attend an assessment under the Mental Health Act. I always thought I would be informal. As an informal patient I took ...

“Key to my future”—the quote that lead me to take control of my life, accept the help I need, and move on. I have been battling severe depression, anxiety and BPD since I was fourteen years old. In that time I have been in and out of hospital due to overdosing and cutting. No one would help me. I was labelled an attention seeker. I suffered seven and a half years with sporadic help and only crisis intervention. A recent move to Wales changed all this. Soon after the move my GP was concerned at my many attempts at taking my own life. Unfortunately, this continued. Two months ago I was assessed and put under continual assessment until I took an overdose that could have killed me. I remember crying for help in A&E and was then taken to a hospital for assessment. I didn’t know what to think but I knew deep down I needed the help. I was kept in overnight and transferred to an acute ward the following day. Talking to the nurses upon arrival I was shocked that it took a move to ...