Mental health is a non-stop battle. For me anyway.
I’m in a much better place right now than where I have been. Thanks in massive part to going back on medication. But that doesn’t mean I’m fixed, or even close to.
The past few weeks have been a huge test on me mentally, emotionally, and personally. For a lot of reasons that I’m not about to go into on here.
I know that I’m dealing with things much better than I would have had they happened two months ago. I’ve faced things that could (would) have brought me completely to my knees then. And I’ve dealt with them much better, but I’m still feeling the effects.
It can be so difficult when you hit a difficult time to work out whether you’re feeling it so deeply because you’re human or because you’re a human with mental health issues. I never want to blame my feelings on my mental illness. But I know that so often it can exasperate things to a whole other level.
I’ve been so busy; with work, with the school holidays, with a crazy social calendar that I’m so lucky to have. But today I’ve been alone, just me and Fox, for the first time in ages. For me being busy is the best thing for me, when I don’t have time to stop and think I don’t have time to realise how bad I feel. This sudden stop has given me the time and space to really explore how I feel about everything, and it’s actually quite a hard, painful place to find myself in. I don’t really know where I am.
I’m so glad I’m currently in a place I can look at things with a sense of reality (again, I am so thankful for medication!) because I can’t begin to imagine what state I would be in tonight if not. This is the first time since Fox was born that I haven’t cried because I’m home alone in an evening. I know how pathetic and needy that sounds, and obviously there is more to it than that, but it genuinely feels like an achievement.
But I still have the same knot in my stomach, I’m still so aware of the feelings of anxiety that are lying under my ‘I’m totally fine’ attitude.
The hardest thing I’ve had to learn through my struggles with my mental health is the realisation that it’s not something that can be cured. It’s not something that I’ll be able to put behind me. It’s not a sprained ankle. For me, even when I’m well, it’s still there. Hiding in the back of my mind, waiting to try and bring me down again. And while I get stronger each time, and better at handling it, it still breaks my heart when it hits again.
It’s the biggest struggle I have, accepting it. Acknowledging it. Being ok with it. Knowing when I’m ok, when feeling broken by something is the normal reaction, knowing when I’m broken, when my brain is twisting everything.
I don’t know what the point in me writing this is, just a brain fart of a blog really. I’m in a place of being equal parts proud of myself for handling stuff better than I thought I could and feeling annoyed that I’m still paranoid something will be triggered.
Mental illness, a constant barrel of fun, eh?!