Raped.

Raped.

I was raped.

It’s taken me 21 minutes to type those words through blurred vision and trembling hands.

I can’t tell you who by.

And that makes me feel like a liar.

All I know is the flashbacks I am experiencing as a form of PTSD.

I can tell you I was a child and I can tell you it was in a car.

I can tell you my skin feels as though it’s covered in dirt and my most personal body parts hurt from the feel and image of what happened.

But I can’t tell you much more than that.

The thing is, seen as I had blocked it out for all these years, when I remembered last week; it felt as though it had just happened that day.

I feel like I’m experiencing things as if I was only raped last week.. it’s all new to me.

Because of that, I don’t know how to handle it.

So what do I do?

Ask for help of course.

As I knew I was seeing the psychologist to be offered counselling anyway, I figured I’d wait a few days.. a few gruelling, distress filled days.

In those days I scrubbed my skin raw for several minutes in the shower. In those days I felt the inside of my skull physically going insane. In those days I hated every ounce of myself and my appearance. In those days I questioned every man I’ve ever known; even the ones I’m surrounded by now and I cannot look at them the same – what if it was you?

In those days my Mum started off understanding; shocked, but understanding. Most of all she was loving and caring and affectionate.

Toward the end of those days my Mum’s love and affection decreased as anger set in.

I know she is angry at the situation. She is angry she didn’t save me. But I also know, deep down, she is angry that I am putting her through yet another thing when she is already so tired. She is angry at who did this to me.. but she is angry at me, too.

So.. the end of those days came. I had my 7 minute appointment. I sat in front of the psychologist and I told her I am terrified; literally terrified. Everywhere. I don’t even feel safe in my house.

I’ll give you a few of her responses:

‘Most people with Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder experience sexual or physical abuse in childhood and they make the decision to just get on with it’

‘Well, you’re not really doing anything at the moment so it’s not surprising you’re reacting this way‘ Dicsclaimer: It is school holidays so I have no uni or work.

‘If you need support, you’re going to have to seek that elsewhere. It isn’t something we offer here’

Great.

I waited those days. I scraped through those days. For nothing. You aren’t going to help me.

Why?

Do you not want to help me because you think it was my fault, too?

Do you think I’m lying?

So, here I am. Alone again.

And I’m still experiencing ‘those days’.

Nobody understands.

Nobody understands how terrified I am every waking and even sleeping moment.

Everyone says ‘I don’t know how to help; what do you want me to do?’

So I tell them.. love me, comfort me, protect me.

And then I speak of how I’m feeling and they get angry and I say ‘you’re getting angry’ and they revert back to ‘I don’t know how to help; what do you want me to do’ and so the process starts again..

So here I am.

Telling you what I need you to do:

LOVE ME

COMFORT ME

PROTECT ME

HEAR ME

BELIEVE ME

To my Mum.. I know you are tired. I know. I know my conditions and my dramas are what’s made you so tired. I know. I am being independent. I am spending 21 hours of the day coping alone because I know you need a break. But can you really not even handle me for 3 hours? Do you resent me that much? Have I worn you down so far you can’t even spend 3 hours with me 7 days after I remember a rape?

Why am I expected to get up and get on when I feel like I was only raped 7 days ago.

7 days.

If I really had only been raped 7 days ago I would be surrounded with love and comfort and reassurance.

Where is that now?

I’m still trying to process the feeling of my private areas being ripped apart. Of my hair being pulled and inappropriate things being forced inside me and my mouth. Of my ankles being held down and my arms being pinned to the car seat. Of the sound of a trouser zipper which still rings in my ears and makes me feel sick to my stomach.

I was raped.

I

was

raped.

Why do you doubt I won’t get up and get on and get over this? Why do you feel you have to tell me that’s what I need to be doing? Isn’t that what I’ve always done?

And sure as hell, I’ll do it again.

But right now, I am processing and that process is destroying me.. not forever, but for now.

I just need your love, support, understanding and reassurance right now.

So when I tell you how I feel and you get angry, maybe assess that your daughter, your granddaughter, your friend, has just been raped. And someone saying how they feel due to rape is not something to be mad at.

Being tired, worn and fed up of the same old drama and the ongoing nightmares I bring is something to be mad at. So address that.

I do not blame you for resenting me. Even for not liking me.

People act like I’ve changed when I repeat myself and need reassurance when in reality, I’m the best I’ve been in 9 years.. I don’t have screaming/ crying fits anymore, I can actually be left now and do things on my own, i don’t hear voices.. so maybe it’s not me that’s the problem; maybe it’s you,

So maybe address that rather than telling me to do one thing and then getting angry/ not paying attention when I do. It is confusing and makes me worse.

One day I will be rid of all this sh#t and you will be rid of me.

No one wants to help me? Fine.

I can do this on my own.

I will do this on my own.

You will see me living a life where all the reason for all this heartache is evident.

Love always,

An Impartial Soul xo

The Halls of Hell

As I write, through blurred vision and filled up eyes, I can honestly say I’ve never felt more alone in my entire life.

I am trying so hard every damn day.

It’s a battle just to breathe, just to breathe one breath without the overwhelming, consuming, debilitating heartache in not only my chest but my very core.

The truth is, I have been alone for many months.

Ever since my Dad came back in to my life in the most unbearable way; he suffered a ruptured brain aneurysm and I had to make the decision to see him for the first time after he abandoned me for ten years, or risk never saying the words I needed to say as it was very possible he would die.

On top of that, my partner at the time who I had spent five years of my life with, decided that was the ideal time to start the long and painful process of breaking my heart.

As if it wasn’t broken already.

As if I didn’t need him then more than ever before.

A few months later and the flashbacks set in. Flashbacks of sexual abuse. Flashbacks that make me feel disgusting. Grubby. Dirty. Tainted.

It doesn’t matter how many times I wash, how many times I push those memories to the back of my mind, how many times I smile and laugh and act as everything’s fine; that dirt, those stains, will never leave my skin.

‘You’re not like other kids Sally, that’s why these things are happening to you’

Was I not like other teenagers too? Is that why my Dad gave up on me?

Was I not like other young women too? Is that why the only boy I ever truly let in gave up on me?

I feel like I am nothing. Worth nothing.

Nothing to anyone.

Not good enough.

Never, ever enough. For anyone. No matter how hard I try.

Almost a year on and sure, I get up every day. I smile every day. I make jokes. I get up, I get on, I fight.

But the fight is becoming impossible.

I am so, impossibly lonely.

Sure, I am trying to get back out there.

I go out and I meet people and I talk to people.

But when it comes to men? Truth is, I just can’t be bothered.

I’ve lost hope in man as a species.

I’ve met some lovely, kind hearted people these past few months and they’ve made me feel like I could be worth something again. But it only ever lasts a few hours.

When the dust settles and the darkness creeps in and I am alone; I am alone.

It’s so lonely losing your partner in life and your best friend. Your soulmate.

What only adds to that sense of loneliness is when they have let you down. When they have stripped away every part of you that made you sparkle.

When you are reminded a star is only ever really a rock.

I’m sure one day I will find happiness again; who knows, I might even be happier.

I know there had to be more out there than the life I was living. That’s why I made this choice. I want more. I deserve more.

I’ve gone through too much, survived too much, to settle for anything less than someone who wants to fight for me. Fight tooth and nail because they believe they are lucky, truly lucky, to have me..

.. whether that be a boyfriend, Dad or friend.

I know I’m not really alone. I know I have family that love me.

But my Mum does this thing where she ignores me and if I’m honest, that makes me feel like I am nothing.

I don’t blame her of course, I go on.. and on.. and on.

And she has to pick up the pieces every day.

I would turn me off too if I could.

But oh my, does it hurt.

I wouldn’t even mind if she could just own up to it, embrace it.. yes rainbow, I do ignore you and I’m sorry.

But instead she makes out it’s all in my head. Tells me people are doing their best and it’s hard for them as if I don’t know. As if I’m saying nobody ever does anything for me.

No, I’m just saying it hurts when you ignore me.

But of course, that’s my fault too.

And of course, you’re now in that mood where you antagonise me deliberately.

All I need is for you to hold me and say you didn’t mean it and make it okay.

Because you are my one person in this world and when you do what all those others do. What those people did to me all those years ago. Making me feel like it’s in my head, like I’m unimportant and irrelevant. Like I deserve to be hurt because of the way I am.

Only then do I truly feel like nothing.

Because it’s only then that I feel like all I ever do is hurt others and all they ever do is their best for me. Like I am the enemy. Like I am evil.

And only then do I feel like maybe those people were right all those years ago.

And when the people I love most in the world hurt me and make me feel like it is my fault.. my Dad, my partner and even my Mum and family at times.

That’s when I convince myself I am not a victim. I was not ever a victim. I am instead a comeuppance.

Living and lived the fate I deserve.

I am nothing.

To anyone.

Not truly.

I bring nothing.

I give nothing.

But pain.

And what do those who bring and give pain deserve?

What is their comeuppance?

A fate worse than death.

And that is why, that is why at times death feels like the only option to me.

That is why I sit in the psychiatry appointment and I hear the doctor tell me I am a victim. It is not my fault. And I don’t, I can’t, ever believe him.

Because if this is not my comeuppance. If this is not the life I deserve. Why do these things keep happening to me?

Why is every happiness taken from me?

I am trying.

I am faking and I am pretending and I am fighting.

But even the devil asked me how I know my way around the halls of hell.

‘I told him I did not need a map for the darkness I know so well’

Love always,

An Impartial Soul xo

My Reason Why

My goodness, I didn’t anticipate how hard this would be.

Well, actually, that’s a lie. I never could imagine my life without you; just thinking about it caused me pain. However, I never truly understood just how much pain, as I never thought I’d have to actually feel it one day.

The fact it was me that called it a day makes me feel as though it’s my fault. Did I do enough? Did I try hard enough?

But then I have to remind myself that even now, you are not fighting for me. Even now that I have called an end on our 5 and a half year relationship, our 12 and a half year friendship.. you still don’t want to try.

I guess that tells me all I need to know.

Silence speaks a thousand words.

Even though you haven’t really tried for nine months, it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

I still love you with every living inch of my being.

I still miss you more than I ever thought possible.

When will every single thing stop reminding me of you?

Will I ever get through my day again without things as simple as cooking a meal, reminding me of a memory of you?

Right now it doesn’t feel like it.

You were my companion, my best friend, my safety net, my life for almost 13 years.

I don’t feel safe anywhere anymore.

My past, my present and my future feels empty now; vacant.

Everything I’ve worked so hard for is gone.

Everything I believed in has been taken from me.

So who am I now?

Who am I without you?

I’ve been part of a team for so long, I don’t know how to be on my own.

Will I ever feel happiness again? Will I ever learn to love again?

Will I ever stop loving you?

I want to, so much.

But right now, in this very moment, I am more alone than ever.

You were my family, you were my friend, you were my home.

It didn’t ever matter where I was, how I was feeling, what I was facing; so long as I had you.

I know now I must find out who I am without you. But you were my childhood, my adolescence and my adulthood.

How could you? How could you take all my dreams away from me?

Why wasn’t I enough?

I loved you endlessly. I would follow you anywhere. I would carry you for eternity.

What more could you ever need?

We had it all.

Our love was limitless. Our love was one of a kind. So why?

Wasn’t I pretty enough?

Is it my health?

Because I was this way when you fell in love with me, worse in fact.

Did you ever really love me at all?

How long has my life been a lie?

I have so many questions that I know you’ll never answer.

I’ve never felt like I am enough. I wasn’t for a lot of my family, for friends. But I always believed I was enough for you.

Will I spend the rest of my years never truly being enough?

I’m so alone and I’m frightened.

I’ve never been okay on my own.

It’s difficult being alone with someone you despise.

I liked who I was when I was with you. Only when I was with you.

And now I spend every moment in a body, a mind, I can’t stand.

Who is there to reassure me? Who is there to comfort me? Who is there to encourage me? Who is there to remind me I have worth?

I don’t know what’s real anymore.

I have to build a new life. New hopes, new dreams.

I have to let someone else in one day and I don’t know if they will ever really accept me.

I am so scared of the path that is now in front of me.

I don’t want to walk it alone.

I am stronger now. I know I can make it. I have to.

But if I had a choice, I would choose you every time.

You took all my choices away from me.

I couldn’t stay somewhere where you didn’t want to fight for me. For us. Where you didn’t want to try.

It wasn’t enough.

I need more.

There has to be more out there.

I’ll find it one day, won’t I?

‘Everything happens for a reason’.

I have to believe there is reason to this pain.

I’m sure, I know, one day I’ll look back on this and I’ll know why.

I’ll have something so precious that I will know, I will know why.

Until that day comes, I just have to keep fighting.

Take time to find myself.

Maybe even learn to like myself.

I can do this alone. I can do this without you.

For I am the woman you helped shape me to be.

You built me up with strength and courage and wisdom.

I will always remember you for that.

I will always look back on our time together fondly.

I will never, ever regret you. Or us.

I learnt so much from you about myself, about love, about life and for that I am grateful.

I was lucky to have loved a man like you.

I was lucky to have been loved by a man like you.

I was lucky to have known a love like we shared.

I may not ever find it again. But I don’t want to.

I will find something new, something different.

That will be my reason why.

Whether it be in work, in travel, in children, in romance, in friendship or even within myself.

That will be my reason why.

Love always,

Your Impartial Soul xo

I Need to Get Away..

Away from the town where my heart has been broken in to a thousand pieces.

Away from the fear of losing you & providing you with the opportunity to hurt me again, all at the same time.

Away from my mind that tells me it’s my fault, there’s something wrong with me, I’m too ugly, I’m too fat, I’m not good enough, I deserve this.

Away from my heart that tells me I can’t ever be with another man but you, my heart that tells me you are everything.

Away from the realisation that I am nothing to you.

Away from the tears on my cheeks which each represent every time you have let me down.

Away from the lack of cuddles I long for.

Away from the hope that there’s reason, meaning to this pain. Hope that you will love me again, the way you used to.

Away from the texts I never receive, the words I never, but long to, hear.

Away from the belief that you will make an effort, you will fight for me the way I’ve fought for you; but don’t.

Away from the silence full of words I need to say but can’t incase it pushes you any further away from me.

Away from the memories you share with me of the six months I longed to be part of your life but you wouldn’t let me.

Away from the memories I have of the six months where I wished for you, wished to smile, wished to feel warmth in my heart, wished to breathe without it hurting.

Away from the endless undelivered calls, texts, letters and emails I wrote every day but couldn’t send.

Away from my past where I spent twelve years of my life loving and wanting nothing but you.

Away from my future where I planned marriage, a home, children, a life – with you.

Away from my present where I have to try and rebuild something that I never broke.

Away from the prospect of never being able to forgive and having to be strong enough to find a way of living without you.

Away from the chance you could do this again.

Away from the fact you had the ability to cause me such ongoing, agonising pain.

Away from the nightmares, because you took away the only place I’ve ever felt safe.

Away from myself, the person I have grown to hate through all this.

Away from the rejection of my best friend.

Away from this stranger that I don’t know anymore.

Away from the loss of everything I ever believed in, the loss of the only truth I ever held in my life, the loss of my hopes and dreams.

Away from this bedroom, this bed that I shared with you.

Away from the excuses that don’t really provide any worthwhile answers.

Away from pretending that everything’s normal, that it’s okay.

Away from understanding when all I really want to do is make you see what you have done to me, that I am laying on this cold floor with torn clothes and I am empty and I am bruised and I am angry.

Away from this town where my heart has been broken in to a thousand pieces.

xo

Me or My Condition?

People always feel the need to make sure I’m aware of how lucky I am to have the support of those around me.

& I spend a lot of my time complaining that people always feel the need to do this because

1. I obviously know how lucky I am

2. I hate myself and feel guilty enough without the regular reminder

3. So I’m ill; does that mean people aren’t lucky to have me, too?

I’m particularly reminded of lucky I am to have my Mum – but do I ever really listen?

I mean, of course, I know it; I know I’m extremely lucky to have my Mum.

But do I ever really hear the true meaning of those words?

I believe my Mum is the only person that number 3 does not apply to; she is not lucky to have me and therefore, I’m now realising it is justifiable for people to constantly remind me how lucky I am because only right now as I have just been comforted by her following a panic attack am I truly realising just what those words mean.

What led to this epiphany, you ask?

The tone, the sadness, the weariness in her voice.

See, I have been fighting this fight for many, many years.

I have experienced relapses, suicide attempts, self harm, impulsive behaviours, emotional pain, memories of emotional sexual abuse, voices in my head, panic attacks, an array of sleepless nights, never ending pools of tears, a fear of everything, suffocation by overthinking and finally, a constant, mind numbing sadness.

But unlike most adults; I’ve not done it alone.

My selfless, undeniably kind Mum has experienced EVERY one of those moments with me.

She’s hugged away the pain I’ve felt, she’s battled pain herself whilst she’s seen me on the verge of death, she’s dried the tears I’ve cried, she’s listened to my outbursts, worries, paranoia, she’s talked me through my mistakes, fears, overthinking and finally, she’s fought this battle in addition to her own.

& now she is tired.

She is worn.

She has lost every bit of herself trying to be everything for me.

Here I am, sensing resentment, anger, frustration and sadness towards me and is it really any surprise?

She’s devoted 24 years of her life to be all that I need whether that be; a therapist, a nurse, a friend, a teacher when really, all she should ever have to be is a Mum.

She deserves far more than I am, more than I ever can be.

I’m 24 years old and I still sleep some nights with my Mum.

It’s guaranteed I’ll at the very least keep her up until the early hours, even when she has work the next day – I can’t stop myself.

I rely on my Mum for EVERYTHING because I have nothing of my own.

I am not an adult, I am a child.

I am a toddler who depends on their Mum for protection and safety.

Someone please tell me, is this something that comes with the repercussions of abuse?

Or is mental health just an extremely selfish place?

Yes, I’m thoughtful. Yes, I’d like to believe I’m kind.

But I can’t decide if it’s me, my personality, or the condition that is selfish.

Or is it in fact both?

Have I hurt my Mum more than I ever thought possible, or has my condition?

Is there a difference?

Am I the reason for the pain, the sadness in my Mum’s heart and eyes; or is my condition?

Aren’t we the same thing?

Is it me my Mum is growing to hate or my condition?

More importantly, when the condition is better managed; will the hate still be there?

Can I ever take back the years of her life I’ve stolen and broken?

Will she grow to her elder years and look back and regret the time she wasted caring for me?

What brings the most concern is that she may already regret having me all together.

I guess I’ll never truly know what she’s thinking; I do not reside in her brain.

But what I do know, what she can’t deny no matter how hard she try; the pain and sadness she feels.

How tired she is.

My beautiful Mum, you can try and hide it but I know you as well as you know me and all I can ever tell you is I am so, so sorry.

I’m sorry I’ve burnt out the most brightest sparks of your being.

I will be better, I will do better. I won’t rely on you to be anything other than a Mum. I won’t trouble you with my troubles long in to the night. I’ll be a grown up. I’ll be a 24 year old; I’ll learn to manage things. The way you do.

My condition may not think of you, but I always do Mum.

To anyone reading this post, I ask you to be aware of what your illness is doing to those fighting the battle alongside you. Try and give them a break just like they do you, but be mindful; it is not your fault.

I have to believe that, I have to.

Then maybe, just maybe. My Mum will respond with excitement again when I call her name and not a sigh.

Love always,

An Impartial Soul xo

Followed by a Murderer

Today it is my physical health affecting me.

I don’t seem to get much sympathy or understanding about my physical health.. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve had this condition so long it’s become ‘normal’ or if it’s because I appear okay on the outside.

I’m so weak that I am in unbearable pain. I’ve brought myself to bed, which in itself is unlike me, but even laying here hurts; it throbs and it aches. Even the underneath of my elbows ache right now as I write this laying in bed. I can feel the shooting pain from my finger tips as they hit the screen. I’m having to type slower than normal.

It’s as though gravity is pulling my whole body down to the ground with full force, if that makes any sense?

I don’t talk much about my physical health but I have a rare condition called Rumination Syndrome which means I involuntarily bring up every single thing I eat/ drink. It’s been that way for 5 and a half years now. Being physically sick 5+ times a day, every day, for 2311 days.

I now manage to keep my food down for up to 4 hours, however, when I do I am in excruciating pain and discomfort. Even after that time, due to my delayed gastric emptying/ slow gastric motility, my food still comes up as though it’s barely digested. I also have Gastroparesis.

Even so, I am obviously managing to keep some of it down as I am now a healthy weight (my lowest was 7st and I am 5ft7). So I guess because I appear healthier and nobody can see every bone in my body any more, that means I’m better, right?

Wrong.

I am still physically sick every day. I always say, if you are physically sick just once, you tend to take the day off work. I am physically sick every day 5+ times. I still go to volunteering, do my uni work and am expected to always get up out of bed; and I do.

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Yet, if I say I feel unwell I just get a ‘oh dear’ and the subject is changed. However, if my Mum says she’s ill, or my Stepdad comes home knackered it’s ‘oh, what’s wrong!? Go to bed! Get some rest! Can I do anything for you?’

Now, considering I’m unwell every day, I would understand people getting bored of hearing it. However, I hardly ever say if I feel physically unwell. If I did, it’s all I’d ever talk about. I only ever say I feel unwell if I literally feel like my body can’t take anymore, if it feels like it’s going to shut down, if I feel like I might die.

And that’s no exaggeration.

On some rare days I am fearful I won’t pull though this never ending battle.

Every single day, I am aching, weak, tired. I don’t remember the last time I actually felt comfortable; even in bed.

Yet I don’t say a thing.

I get on with it.

As I’m now expected to.

I don’t know, maybe one day this illness will defeat me. It’ll kill me. Will my family then realise I have been followed by this murderer for 5 and a half years?

I know they worry.

But they don’t feel it’s affect on me.

I don’t even know if they can recognise it any more.

But I can.

Love always,

An Impartial Soul xo

The Brink of Everything

I feel like I’m at the brink.

The brink of losing my mind.

The brink of giving up volunteering and uni.

The brink of having a meltdown.

The brink of being admitted last night.

The brink of giving up on life.

I feel agitated, infuriated, sad and broken all at the same time.

I’m trying, my goodness am I trying.

Trying to persevere.

Trying to be positive.

Trying to stay strong.

Trying to love my life.

Trying to keep on trying.

But I don’t want to have to try anymore.

I want it to be natural. Easy.

Easy to smile.

Easy to enjoy moments in my day.

Easy to do normal, every day things.

Easy to be strong.

Easy to breathe.

One of the few positive things that does come naturally now is one of my skills I learnt in the process of DBT..

It’s called ‘Opposite Action’.

In theory, it means you do the opposite action (funnily enough!) to what your feelings are telling you to do.

See, there is supposedly an action for every emotion.

So for example..

For feeling sad, the action is to hide.

For feeling angry, the action is to lash out.

So if you were to do the opposite action..

When feeling sad, you would get up and active.

When feeling angry, you would implement strategies to remain calm.

Two of the biggest emotions I struggle with are sadness and guilt.

So when I feel sad, all I want to do is hide in my bed all day but instead I do the opposite action; I get up, washed and dressed every day.

When I feel guilty, all I want to do is hide whatever I feel guilty about and dwell on it but instead I do the opposite action; I confess what I feel guilty about to someone I can trust, usually my Mum.

This comes naturally to me now.

I’m so grateful it does.

Because that skill, that ability to always do the opposite action, means that I can keep on going.

It’s etched on to my brain now so that the majority of the time I do it without even thinking and when I do have to think about it, I know no matter how difficult, I must do it.

I am so, so thankful for that.

That mentality, to challenge and battle my most difficult emotions means that they can not defeat me. I will come out victorious.

How can something beat me, destroy and kill me, when I am fighting against it at equal or greater measure?

For it means I am stronger than my demons that challenge me. I have greater power than the weaknesses that grant me the title of the diagnosis ’emotionally unstable’.

Whereas before I learnt this skill I was at the lower end of the sea-saw, virtually hitting the ground whilst my emotions reached high in to the evening sky. I am now on an even keel. In fact, sometimes my emotions are the ones hitting the ground and I am the one reaching the sky above; except, this time there is daylight. The warmth of the sun rays are hitting my cheek.

I won’t pretend there still isn’t clouds in that sky because there is but there is sunlight, there is blue sky, there is hope.

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So please, if you can find it within yourselves even during one meltdown of the week; do the opposite action.

I promise you it will begin to come more easily than the first attempt makes you believe.

Love always,

An Impartial Soul xo

Anger Ball

Hello old friend,

We parted ways for a while,

I laid you at rest.

I discovered my demons and I conquered them.

But now you are back.

Because it turns out, the demons aren’t the things I’m fearful of at all; they are, in fact, the things I love the most.

The things that possess greatest ability to hurt me beyond words.

Should I fear those which are meant to keep me safe?

Are they more dangerous than my nightmares?

They certainly hold the most power.

You see, I’m fighting this tough fight every damn day.

I’m fighting the images in my head of the sexual abuse I endured and the disgust that comes with it.

I’m fighting the suicidal thoughts and thoughts to harm myself however possible.

I’m fighting feeling so deadly weak physically every single day.

I’m fighting my insecurities which rule me.

I’m fighting to breathe.

But the hardest of all those?

The hardest is fighting my family.

My family that are supposed to support me and understand no matter what.

‘It’s the way they were brought up’

‘They’re stuck in their ways’

No. That doesn’t cut it anymore. Not bloody good enough.

I just overheard my family discussing me, as I’m sure they always do, voicing their opinions.

Stating how I need to get back to work, get back to normality, find some independence.

See, I’ve taken some time off from volunteering and I’m on a break from uni until final year starts in April.

It’s all well and good having your opinions.

You may think you know what’s best for me.

I may appear fine on the outside.

But do you think my thoughts?

Do you feel my feelings?

Do you see my visions?

Do you manage my pain?

Do you realise that there are points in the day I have to remind myself to breathe?

Exhale, for the love of God, exhale.

Yes, opinions.

For sure, you are welcome to them.

But until you’re fighting my fight, until your facing my demons; keep them to yourself.

Can you not even try?

Try to not have an opinion but instead listen, listen to the words I am not saying. Listen to the pain in my eyes.. the heavy sigh when I hold that breath in just a little too long.

Why not distract yourself from your opinion with trying to understand. And if you can’t understand; trying to just be there.

Just be there.

No words, no advice, no opinions.

Just be there.

Endlessly and without question.

I will win this fight, just as I have every other. You’ve seen my victory; can’t you believe in my ability to overcome this too?

I’ve proven you all wrong time and time again, it’s just never good enough.

Oh ball of anger that resides in my chest and expands with every opinion,

Hello old friend.

Love always,

An Impartial Soul xo

The Dodo Birds of Society

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Did you know that the Dodo bird is an evolution of a badly lost flock of Pigeons? Something so common evolved in to something so rare it later became extinct..

How brilliant would it be if it had happened the other way around?

People whom understand or at least try and understand mental health (that are not sufferers themselves) are such an endangered species and unfortunately, in some sufferers lives, don’t exist at all; as though they’ve become extinct.

We need the evolution of the Dodo bird to happen in reverse within society. The rare (endangered species) of open minded people needs to evolve from a Dodo bird to a flock of Pigeons and within a matter of time they will be so common that everyone would feel welcome and confident in the universe. Wouldn’t that be perfect?

I may sound like I have gone a little off subject but actually, I feel it is of vital importance that before I continue with this blog, I mention just how lucky I am.

In previous posts, I pointed out that I was writing this blog anonymously. However, I have told two people of this blog and I know they will be reading this and my future posts. Those two people are my endangered species. Oh how lucky I am that they are not extinct.

I realise there is so many mental health sufferers out there whom face this journey alone, in a world of isolation where nobody understands, or even worse; doesn’t even try. I’m sorry to those people. I feel isolated even with being surrounded by an understanding family so I have no clue how alone and afraid you must feel and I won’t pretend to.

That being said, you are never alone as an mental health sufferer for you are surrounded by an infinite ocean of sufferers just like you. Please, especially if you feel alone; seek help.

I mentioned my understanding family. That may be a slight exaggeration.

I have an incredibly thoughtful, kind, warm hearted best friend. She has the most beautiful, caring soul I have ever encountered.

As well as her, I have my beautiful, inspirational Mum. She is everything I aspire to be in life.

They may not fully understand what I’m going through but they pretend they do. They put aside their own pain and thoughts to always make sure I feel safe, understood and part of a team. I can not begin to imagine how it feels to watch me go through such suffering and to still be completely selfless and pretend they’re not suffering themselves. They always say I am so strong to be the one going through it but I believe they are far stronger than I.

These kind of people are extremely rare (an endangered species) and I am so utterly blessed to have not one, but two of them in my life.

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My other friends? I don’t believe I have any. Not really. I care for people, yes, far more than I will ever care about myself and before this illness, would I have counted them as my friends? Yes, always. It’s only with time that I have come to learn that people that don’t ask how you are, even when they know you are ill, even if they don’t understand, aren’t really friends you need at all.

I believed I had a loving boyfriend whom understood and would always protect me and keep me safe from the dangers in this world. However, after five years of being in a relationship with him and twelve years of friendship; I have seen him 4 times in almost seven months, not at all for the past three. He puts this down to the fact he has always been on his own due to not being able to share his troubles with me because of my health.

How dare he.

It makes me so angry! I have never done anything other than love him and ensure he knows he is never alone. Yes, I have put him through some extremely difficult times due to my health but for over three years now I have worked on nothing other than being stronger and ensuring I am in a far better situation. And I am.

Surely he can see that?

I thought he was my soulmate, my one person in life I could always be completely comfortable around.

I guess people change.

But it’s killing me inside and I have this overwhelming sense of anger. Anger that he can hurt me this way after twelve years. Anger that I have poured my heart out to him on several occasions, anger that I’m fighting tooth and nail to keep us together yet he’s giving nothing back; he’s blocked me on all forms of social media. Why am I still in this ‘relationship’?

Because although I am surrounded by a lack of Dodo-evolved pigeons, it doesn’t stop me from loving them and feeling pain from their lack of affection.. I wish I could just switch off my humanity.

If they can’t handle me at my worst do they really deserve me at my best? 

I’m okay just having my Mum and my best friend. It’s hard but I’m extremely fortunate.

That being said, I never feel good enough for them. This illness makes me feel like I destroy their lives. I know they do it because they love me and yes, it’s their choice but it certainly isn’t mine. I don’t want this, especially not for them. They deserve far more than my suffering.

One thing I always hear? ‘You’re so lucky to have your Mum, she’s amazing’. I know. It’s all I ever hear. Do you not think I’m aware how bloody incredible she is? I couldn’t do it. I know. I am forever in her debt – I certainly don’t need you reminding me. I feel guilty enough.

No one ever says to the loved ones of a mental health sufferer; you’re so lucky to have (mental health sufferer in question). Why aren’t they lucky to have me? My illness doesn’t define me; I’m a decent person. Aren’t I?

I also have a group of close family members. They try to understand but they don’t. Whether that be due to the way they were brought up or their beliefs or their understanding on life. They can try but it isn’t enough. They still make their comments, assumptions and judgements. I love these family members but at times they infuriate me.

‘They try their best’. I know. But sometimes their best simply isn’t enough.

And on that note, I wish everyone surrounding me was a Dodo bird evolving in to a Pigeon.

Love always,

An Impartial Soul xo

DITCH The Label!

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May I just begin by saying I hope I don’t offend with this post, that is far from my intention and I have the upmost respect for all of you and your choice to live the life you believe in..

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BUT

I THINK I’VE SOLVED THE CASE OF ACHIEVING WORLD PEACE!

Well, at least in the wars surrounding the media at the moment.

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Imagine a world where we erased the titles of gender all together and simply became people.

A world where we do not identify as male or female.

We are just living, as one, equally.

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There’d be no need to define your sexuality as different labels would no longer exist.

You wouldn’t fall in love with a man or a woman, with someone of an opposite or the same sex.

You would just fall in love, with whoever your heart wanted to fall in love with.

Your mind wouldn’t even have to come in to play.

Other people’s opinions wouldn’t matter/ exist.

You would just be happily, hopelessly in love with your soulmate, just as they are.

& they would feel the same, just as you are.

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There’d be no inequality in the workplace when it comes to things such as wages as there wouldn’t be the option to pay a man higher than a woman or vice versa as you wouldn’t be able to decipher which is which.

As everyone would be the same, as one, equal.

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Harassment and sexual abuse on women (and men, but for the sake of this particular post I will focus on women) would become even more irrational than it is now, as people would be abusing people who are equal to them, who identify the same as them and therefore all their believed power would be lost; for how can you feel power over another person when you are equivalents?

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One whole sector of discrimination would be wiped out.

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IN FACT

LET’S ERASE ALL LABELS

Let’s erase races, gender, sexuality & so on..

LET’S JUST STRIP IT BACK TO BASICS

LET’S JUST BE PEOPLE

& what’s the basic, greatest right people have?

Freedom.

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So, let’s ditch the labels..

Let’s just be people with freedom.

Oh, how blissfully peaceful that would be.

Love always,

An Impartial Soul xo