Unspoken things

Shame is a topic that has been going around in my head for a long time now. The very fact I feel afraid to write about it shows that it needs to be tackled. There have been so many incarnations of this post. I keep getting scared, deleting it and trying to write it again. We'll see how far this one gets.

If you asked me to list my proudest moments from life so far, I could maybe list off 5 things at a push. I wouldn't be able to tell you many details, just a few basic bullet points. If you asked me to list the times I felt shame, I will lose count. I will also be able to tell you how old I was, where I was, what words were said, who said it, who witnessed it and what that's meant for me further down the line. I'm not sure if talking about shame opens old wounds or starts the healing process, we shall see.

I remember being 7, looking at a photo of me after a ballet exam. Pink leotard, pink tights, pink ballet shoes, hair scraped back and my thighs touching. Looking at that photo I felt disgusted, I knew my body shouldn't look like that. I was not a good person because I did not look right. At age 7, my value was in how I perceived my body. At age 10, a boy in my class commented on my body. That was all the confirmation I needed. The years following didn't matter. One comment was all it took to know that I would never be good enough. Looking back now I still hate my body, I still hate how it looks, but I also hate that I've held this belief for almost 20 years.

Whilst babysitting on Monday I jotted some notes down for this post (don't worry, the baby was napping at the time!). I don't think I need to elaborate on this.

Hurt.
Told someone.
More hurt.
Told no-one.
Assumptions.
I let someone in.
Pain.
I shut everyone out.
Broken.
I gave up caring.
Shame.
Secrets.
Silence.
Safe.
Brave.
Speak.

For years, I've believed I'm broken. I'm worth nothing because that is all the world has ever told me. As I let God in to my life, some things started to change but I held on to some secrets. The words associated to things brought more pain, things I wanted to leave in my past. I was hurt because I was broken. I did not break because I was hurt. 2 summers ago, I got brave. I spent the whole summer learning to trust someone and then I used words I'd never used before out loud (I'd tried previously but was too poorly for anything to be done) And this person listened. She didn't laugh, or tell me I was lying. She hugged me. She prayed for me. Most importantly, 2 years later, she's still a friend.

2017 for me is about words. But sometimes I think actions speak louder than words. I'm thankful for several loyal friends. People who know almost the full story, and some who don't quite, but regardless they've stuck around. It's words that broke me; words I spoke over myself long before anyone else voiced my thoughts. While words can heal too, sometimes it just isn't enough.  Action is needed. Love someone a little harder today.

Shame is an awful emotion. It destroys everything in you and your relationship with everyone around you. I battle every single day with some part of me- be it my physical being or my actions or someone else's actions or in fact my inaction but it's changing. It takes up less brain space. I'm getting there. Love changes things. Not just the love from others, or the love from myself but the love God gives. His abundant love is powerful. It's breaking down walls from long ago. God's perfect love casts out fear (1 John 4:18) I'm scared but I have people who don't run away from me and a God who loves me despite all my flaws. I'm laying myself out here because these are the things that have brought me to where I am today.

I'm posting this today because of someone at church tonight who was so plainly honest. I admire her and her strength and while she was talking I knew tonight I need to be open too and post this blog. I'm not posting this on my own strength, God has given me the courage to do so.

Isaiah 54:4 says
Fear not, for you will not be ashamed; be not confounded; for you will not be disgraced; for you will forget the shame of your youth, and the reproach of your widowhood you will remember no more. This verse has been in my head the entire time I've been trying to write on shame. What a comfort! The rest of that passage is equally powerful and I suggest you look it up. But for now I'm taking a deep breath and hitting publish.

Words can be damaging...

Recently I've had some many blog post ideas, but the second I sit down and start typing my head goes "NO. You absolutely cannot write about this" and so I give up. Which would be fine if this only went for blogging. However it's fallen in to every part of life.

No. You cannot write this job application.

No. You cannot make this food.

No. You cannot wear this outfit.

No. You cannot go to that event.

It's taken me a while to work out why suddenly my head is telling me no to everything. Someone recently told me "you're better than X" (if I specified what X actually is (not a person) it would take all but 3 seconds to work out who said it and what about). In some cases, this would be encouraging, reminding me I am worth much more. Alas, in this case it minimised something that I had put my heart and soul in to for nearly a year and suddenly I began to question my value. Was this thing, that I worked so hard at just X and nothing more?

Rationally I know the answer is no. I can list my achievements and know full well it was much more. But that bit of my brain that says that I'm no good, will never amount to anything and certainly need to stop thinking I've ever been good at anything to start with. 

With changes in life, with time to stop and appreciate the now, to invest in neglected relationships, I forgot to be on my guard about what is really going on in my head. In the midst of the joy of spending time with housemates and friends, I've had several rejections from jobs I've applied to. On their own that isn't anything significant, but at night or when I'm on my own, the thoughts are returning full-force. I'm not good enough. I exist to make other people happy but I deserve nothing. 

Recently I've told several people parts of my story I'd long buried or believed insignificant but those thoughts are deafening in times of unemployment "you'd be better off on benefits" and "you'll never really function in society". Things said without second thought over 4 years ago now and yet they still haunt me. 4 years ago I was told to give up on my dream of nursing. While I don't want to return to nursing, my head doesn't care. My brain relishes reminding me of my failure. You'll never be valuable. Stop trying. Give up on every dream, mental illness has already taken it. 

And so here I am. Trying my hardest to find some new job. I know my work does not define me, but in the quiet of unemployment my head has free reign and I need something to prove it wrong again. I'm clinging on with my fingertips. Appreciating every little thing that comes my way for now but longing for something more permanent. To prove I can and I will. Depression may destroy bits of each day, but I will not let it destroy my life again. In the meantime, any kind words sent my way would be appreciated. 

Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.

-Ephesians 4:29

Stubborn or determined?

Apologies for not blogging for a while. I've been incredibly poorly and my laptop has been very very sulky. I also am sorry for not blogging about the festive season at this time of year- not my thing! As a result of my poorly laptop I'm currently typing this on a tablet which is odd and annoying and also not my thing which leads on to my final apology: sorry if there are any typos. Typing on a tablet is enough of a challenge, let alone checking the behaviour of autocorrect. Tomorrow I'll have a new laptop but today I have time so in my stubborn state I will blog using the tablet and it will be OK.

That was a sneaky way to lead in to this! This post has been drafted in my mind for 3 weeks or so now and I'm just getting time to type it.

I'm stubborn. Always have been. I think it is a side effect of being an only child. I didn't have to compete with anyone for years so I got used to getting my own way. I am right. I know what I'm doing. I'm independent and therefore I will do it myself.

While growing up, to outsiders, I was painfully shy and reserved and couldn't possibly answer any questions sent my way, I always knew exactly what I wanted. I knew what I wanted to do, what I didn't want to do, whether fighting the 'I do not want to do this' thoughts were worth it or not. If I did not want to do something on holiday or in any after school clubs I wouldn't do them. I may not have been able to articulate it but I knew. Years of sobbing and panic attacks was my way of saying no. I've gotten better over the years. I can just say no or admit that I want to do it my way and you are wrong if you want to disagree with me!

Over the last year, attending careers seminars, writing my CV and completing job applications has made me reconsider my stubbornness. How do I write that in a list of personal qualities? How do I make it a good thing? Sometime in spring someone described me as determined and it got me thinking. It's become more of a fixture in my description of myself. When there a cause I believe in, I'm determined to do what I can for it. If my friend is hurting, all my focus goes on doing what I can- I want the best outcome for them. In a job, I'm determined to do my best; half hearted is just not good enough. It might take me a couple more hours but the end result needs to be just right (usually my perception of just right!)

3 weeks ago, I was reminded once again about this part of me. I alluded to being very poorly recently and it's true. You don't need more detail than that. However that is what got me thinking. My GP, as lovely as she is, basically said that we'd tried pretty much everything else possible and the only option is to refer myself back to a service I don't really ever want to go near again. And that's when I realised how much I'd given up on myself. But that isn't where it ends. My stubborn streak kicked in. I am not going back to that service; there are many more torturous options I'd rather endure than be referred back to this one place.

But am I being stubborn because I'm refusing to refer myself somewhere? Because my determination level to get better went off the charts. I can do this. I do not need another waiting list to sit on, one that will pretty much put my life on hold (2 years long just to be assessed, pre-therapy for at least 3 months, means I'd be expecting to stay in Oxford for at least 4 more years without any option to move away etc). Do I want this? No. (Well I want to stay in Oxford but out of choice, not necessity!)

I'm determined to beat these illnesses. I know I can do this because how many other things have I gotten before out of sheer stubbornness and doing it my way?! On the outside I look stubborn and like I'm refusing help but honestly it's sparked so much determination in me. I can get better and I will get better. It won't be with medication (I can't be treated with medication, this is not me being anti-meds!) and it won't be with a referral to a 'we've tried everything else' service. It will be because I am strong enough. OK, I'm not strong enough in myself but that's OK because I've got Jesus and he strengthens me to face anything including the mental illnesses that have been plaguing me over half my life. I'll be going in to 2017 with a renewed sense if determination. I can do this for me, because I need to. It's been too long.

"I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength."

Philippians 4:11-13

What I Wish You Knew About My Mental Illness: Part 2

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about common misconceptions people have relating to depression. I have Atypical Anorexia too and that comes with a whole other bundle of things that people wrongly think. I'm going to tackle a couple of these in this post.

1) Eating disorders are a teenage girl thing- surely you're too old for this?
Yes, I am aware I am no longer a teenager. I was once, and that's when all this started. It turns out if you don't get the right help at the right time, you don't just grow out of it and so over 10 years later I'm still plagued by an eating disorder.

2) You can't have anorexia, you're overweight
Yup, and that's why it is "atypical". And if you ask me why it's atypical, I'll probably tell you "it's because I'm fat". That isn't entirely true. My more obvious symptoms fit quite well in to the "bulimia" category, however my mindset is very much that of someone with anorexia. The guilt over eating anything is there, if I can find an excuse to skip a meal I will but my guilt leads me to compensating by purging in a variety of ways. Either way, the professionals diagnosed me and I have to trust their diagnosis is right.

3) Surely you're just a fussy eater
Ah no. That's completely separate. Yes, I am an insanely fussy eater. It's easier to ask me the list of foods I like instead of the foods I don't like. I've been a fussy eater since I was a child. My mum never forced me to try anything I didn't want to. Yes, maybe it was me being slightly spoilt, maybe it was me being difficult but I'll try foods when I want to. It's safer to not pressure me to eat something I don't want to.

4) But I've watched you eat normally
People with eating disorders still eat! Normal is a very flexible concept. And in actual fact I eat much better when I'm with people, than I do when I'm left to my own devices with food. I also do have periods when I can eat like a 'normal' person for a couple of weeks at a time. Then the guilt wins and my head gets shouty and I give in to the negative thoughts. Two weeks of doing ok does not reverse my diagnosis, or the second anyone entered recovery they'd be completely fine!

5) Having an eating disorder and being vegetarian is disordered.

I hate being asked why I'm vegetarian, because in my case this is 95% true. I am a vegetarian as a result of my eating disorder and it allows me to have an excuse to be restrictive. However for me it also helps; it gives me fewer menu options so I don't spend an hour deciding what to eat, I can't binge on fast food because it's less available and meat for me is the biggest trigger food for certain behaviours. It isn't a long term solution, but it makes things more manageable currently. I've never had real support for eating disorder recovery and this is just how I've learnt to keep myself stable. This isn't the case for everyone though; people have ethical reasons to be vegetarian or vegan. I'm not judging people's life choices and you don't need to either.


I'm sorry if this hasn't been the most articulate post, I so often dismiss my eating disorder as "it's not the real issue" so I don't ever have to talk about this stuff. I fail with words when people make these comments, so I thought I'd try writing the answers to make the words come more easily next time I'm asked.

What I Wish You Knew About My Mental Illness...

Monday 10th October is World Mental Health Day. Time to Change's Story Camp inspired me and so this blog post is happening. I've not so bluntly spoken about my mental health in a long time and this feels weird but hopefully I can do this.

I currently have 2 diagnoses. Depression and Atypical Anorexia. This week I surprised my boss by asking to take my time in lieu in one go instead of taking a week off sick; she had very little idea. There are so many misconceptions about mental illness. I want to tackle a couple related to depression that I've experienced- and they're all lies that my head likes to tell me regularly.

1) A relapse of depression means something has happened in my life.
Believe it or not, everything in my life is pretty darn good currently. Work is amazing, I love where I'm living, I have fabulous friends, I'm taking my medication every single day. Depression doesn't always have a cause, sometimes medication stops working, sometimes nothing big triggers it. It isn't a delayed reaction to something that happened weeks/months ago. I'm not faking it nor am I doing anything wrong. Sometimes it happens without any cause.

2) I can't be depressed because I have good days.
Up until Tuesday, I went in to work every single day and plastered a smile on my face. I did everything I was meant to, in the time frame I needed to and chatted to colleagues in spare moments. I used every ounce of energy that I had to do that. 4 hours out of 24 hours every day. 20 hours of letting my head win so I have the energy for 4 hours of fighting. In the past 3 days, leaving the house has been near impossible, and that's after getting dressed. Just because I don't show you outwardly what's going on in my head, doesn't mean I'm fine.

3) My friends are used to my depression and know exactly how to help so no-one else needs to get involved. 
Honestly, from one episode to the next, I cannot tell you what has consistently helped. Sometimes being with my friends is the best thing, sometimes sleeping for 18 hours a day is better. Sometimes continuing life as normal is helpful, sometimes it just masks what is really going on. If I knew what helped, I could tell my friends or even potentially help myself. If you have a new idea, say. I'm relatively ok with people suggesting things (except "have you tried meditating/medication/thinking more positively).

4) Don't get close to me because I am a burden. 
I really struggle with this one. I believe that I am an utter drain on my friends because I'm attention seeking and needy and always interrupting their lives. I know this isn't true. My friends are really good at telling me when it's too much but they're also amazing at dropping everything and making sure I'm ok. They also respect my space if I go silent on them for a couple of days. You do not need to avoid me, I maintain balanced friendships and your bad week will not send me spiralling- my depression also isn't contagious.

5) You can't be a real Christian/God can't be real because you're not healed.
This is the one I have the biggest fight with. I know God is real. I chose to follow Jesus 2.5 years ago and I don't regret this at all. Life following Jesus isn't easy, even when I am well there are challenges but that's ok. One really clear thing throughout this entire time is that God will use my story in a powerful way. I used to ask for healing frequently and He would tell me "no", that answer has changed over the past year to "not yet". And this is the hope that keeps me clinging on for better days- I just have to be patient. Please don't judge me for my faith nor God for not healing me instantly. Respect my beliefs. I have hope for the future and that's what keeps me alive. One day it will be better,

I know there are so many more but these are the five biggest misconceptions I experience regularly. If there are other massive stigma that you've experienced and think I've missed, feel free to comment. Slowly we'll break through stigma and people will understand more.

Apologies

I want to apologise for the silence. I'm poorly at the moment. Which is hard because life in general is going so unbelievably well. I'm having moments of such joy, things are just wonderful but my head says no. I cannot tell you about how much I love work, or the amazing training day I went on, or the fab way I experienced God this weekend, or the new exciting peer support group I'm going to be part of or how I encouraged someone massively today. I want to tell you about them, but the memories are so tinged with darkness that right now I don't think I'd do these things justice. Later in the week I hope to finish a post I've been writing for almost 2 months, Maybe I'll write another "day in the life of..." but right now? I am empty. Words are not coming easily. Nothing is easy. I'm battling such darkness, and at times like these, I wish the darkness would hurry up and win.

I'm sorry, but I guess this is the life of a mental health blogger?!

Speak

I thought I had a really catchy title for this post, but it doesn't quite fit. Hmmmm anyway...

The week before last I had the privilege of curating a different twitter account. One called MH_Voices. Every week someone different takes over and tweets about their life and their experiences, they ask questions, raise awareness and help build community. I was really nervous, because wow suddenly everyone was about to really see my life. Not just the personal-Twitter-appropriate version either. I've been putting off this blog post because it's really hard to write also.

I went in to curating the account with the view of "stories are important". I am a massive believer in that everyone has a story to tell. Life may seem uneventful or it may be incredibly overwhelming but every single thing that happens is part of what makes you unique. I find my own story a bit hard to deal with sometimes. There's some bad stuff (which I'm relatively open about), some good stuff (which I'll constantly talk about) and then there's some stuff I'm still processing (mostly bad and definitely not often talked about). Some of it I'm ashamed about but it happened and it has made me who I am today. I told the Twitter-world some of my mental health story. It's hard because a lot of it is intertwined with other things. My recovery definitely has made more progress since I became a Christian. How does one tell people that in a sensitive manner; telling the truth but not forcing my beliefs upon others? I hope that I got that balance right. God doesn't fix everything but doing life with Him had to be better than the state I got myself in to alone. That's what my faith hinged on, that one thought the night I became a Christian; "it can't be worse than my life right now".

I finished my week curating even more convinced that stories are valuable and no story is insignificant. I also finished it with a realisation: I have a voice. I have infinite words when it comes to writing them on paper, typing them on a computer screen but speaking aloud is not my thing. But maybe it should be. I've never been the outgoing one in a group of people, I struggle to maintain conversations with strangers, I become socially incompetent when faced with more than one person to talk to at a time. If we're in a meeting, unless I'm having a particularly bad day, I will sit quietly, agree with whatever is said and let opportunities pass me by because I am afraid of the repercussions of voicing my thoughts. People have said utterly hurtful things about the way I've spoken up previously which has resulted in me being even less willing to talk. A Twitter account, where I can share my story and not be told it's wrong is an infinite confidence boost. I've been more honest, I've been brave in doing different things, I've started to speak up a little more (but I know I need to work on my tone of voice!). Things are changing, little by little. All thanks to Mental Health Voices.

I have dreams for the future where telling my story will bring hope to others in a big way, but right now, I want to make a difference to one person at a time and a simple Twitter account has started the process. I can do this. I have a story and my voice is valuable. One step at a time.

Quiet Voice, Loud Mind

I realise I've been quiet recently and not just on this blog. I use Facebook a lot less, I tweet not as often and I don't often have fun things to post on Instagram. While typing this I realised I've become quieter in life too. I'm busier, sure, but I'm withdrawing more and spending more time alone. While, in some capacity, this is good because it's so hard to get time alone when you live with so many others, it also isn't good for me.

I  guess what I really need to say is things aren't great in my life right now. The struggles of being poorly over Christmas haven't really gone away and now I'm struggling intensely in every aspect of life. Getting out of bed some days is a challenge, let alone the act of getting out of pjs and in to clothes. I'm not feeding myself appropriately nor am I behaving sensibly around food when I am eating. I'm getting angry at little things. I've had moments of trying to find relief in self harm. I cry a lot more than I don't. I'm losing weight and people are noticing. I have a constant weight on my shoulders. I'm back in therapy that I can't really afford. I'm not communicating with friends as I should. The thought of the future has left me wanting to die.

And yet, here I am. In the last 10 days I have co-ordinated catering at 2 events, facilitated prayer spaces for an all-age service, led endless children's activities and prayer meetings, babysat and many other things. I am still breathing. I haven't hurt myself this week. I've reached out to people in a way I haven't in a very long time. I'm in a total daze and physically exhausted but I'm alive and that is what is important. I've given out so so much this weekend for this morning, and the second the service started I knew everything we'd done was right. I was filled afresh and totally blessed by everything that happened.

It's not been easy these past couple of weeks. I went to an amazing children's leaders conference and then had a brilliant 4 day holiday to Budapest. I didn't take care of myself in any of that time and that's what has left me in this muddle now. I've pushed my body to its limits. Mentally I'd love to go to sleep and never wake up. However I've never felt so loved and valued by people around me.

This week I had a really raw, honest, vulnerable conversation with a pastor in a coffee shop. Someone I never imagined I'd share my story with. If that seemed unlikely, her sharing her story in return wasn't even on my radar, but she did and I felt honoured. It's been so long since anyone has told me their story, mainly because they hear a little bit about me and don't want to burden me. That didn't happen and it's changed things. People trust me still. I'm not too broken to ever be a support for others. It gave me hope in a way I haven't had in a long time. I matter to other people and stories should be shared. Hearing stories of experience gives inspiration and hope in a way that nothing else can quite manage.

While we're on mission I have to give a 7 minute evangelistic talk. Stories should be shared. I know what I need to talk about. I have to be brave. I have strength to do this because God has lined up so many people recently to encourage me all over again. Today I am thankful, because my voice may be quiet, my mind may be loud, but God is loudest of all and that's exactly all I need.


The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. 
Lamentations 3:22-23

One Year...

I've said it before but a lot can change in just 365 days. 

On Monday, I will be 1 whole year overdose free, I woke up one Sunday morning last year, wishing I hadn't but also relieved. I had no idea, going to bed the night before, if my body would survive the third overdose in 4 days. Part of me hoped it wouldn't. It was easier to let the darkness win. 

On that Sunday evening my friend dragged me up for prayer. I'd just returned from looking after my grandad for a month. Work was horrific. My friends didn't understand. I felt like even God had given up on me. Asking for prayer was a last ditch attempt. I felt nothing. The entire time the vicar was praying for me, I was planning how many tablets I'd need to buy to make this last attempt the final one. All I needed to do was get through the 45 minute drive home and then I could say goodbye to the world. I remember when I moved 45 minutes away, people freaked out and said I shouldn't be that far away and living alone. Little did they know that 45 minute drive would save my life. 

At some point, driving along a dark road, I told myself I could have 24 more hours and if I still felt that awful, I could end it. I knew I wouldn't be able to hold myself accountable though, so emailed my pastorate leader when I got home. In typing that email I promised her I'd not overdose until 2nd January. I have no idea where that date came from, or how I managed to even hit "send". One moment of courage and I'm still overwhelmed at the thought it ever happened. I read the email frequently in disbelief.

On 2nd January, I wanted to reward myself with an overdose for not overdosing to that point. Instead I text a friend promising her until 10th July. I got to my 25th birthday. A day I never dreamt of seeing. 4 months later, here I am. I didn't need to make any more promises to get to this point. Every day is still a battle. My thoughts tempt me every so often to buy more tablets "just in case". I still get scared taking paracetamol for a headache in case I can't stop. But from Monday I'll be a year overdose free. A year without an attempt to take my life. Considering this past year; all the instability, the changes, the admissions about my past, friendships changing, it is unbelievable that I have made it through. In just one year, so much has changed. I still struggle to see a future after July 2016 but I know I'll make it there. I may not have had a conventional journey to recovery this past year, but I'm getting there. 

Every day involves me fighting, it is going to take a long time, but I know God has given me the strength to choose to fight every single day. I have to choose to be courageous every single day.

"Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts"- Winston Churchill

Suicide

Today is World Suicide Prevention Day. I felt like I should blog to mark the occasion, because suicide affects everyone, even if you don't know it yet. It may be you, the person reading this. Please know that there's more to life than whatever you're going through now. It may be someone in your family, a close friend, someone you mentor. They've told you and now you're supporting them. Love them, let them know you're there but please don't sacrifice your own mental health for the sake of another. They want you to be ok too. Finally there's those who don't say a word, who day to day function, you'd never guess. It might be a close friend, a colleague, someone who pretends it is all ok. Give them somewhere safe to talk. I speak from experience when I say it is one of the most terrifying things to tell someone your innermost thoughts.

2 years ago, I posted on Facebook about World Suicide Prevention Day and how anyone could be struggling but we just don't know. I'd taken my first serious overdose as an adult 2 months prior. A lot of people reading that status had no idea just how much I was trying to prevent someone else being in the same position I had been.

I decided I wanted to see what had changed so scrolled through my blog from last year. Honestly, I don't have a clue who the shell of a person was writing those things. I can't put myself in her shoes. I can't even work out what she was going through. How did I get so poorly and slip so easily under the radar? I was destroying myself a bit more every day. No, at that time I wasn't overdosing but I have no idea how I was even getting dressed, going in to work, convincing my manager that it was a blip; telling the CMHT desperately that I didn't want to live any more. I was chronically suicidal and yet, because my mood wasn't declining (how could it?!) they did nothing.

One year later, several referrals to the CMHT, a re-referral to ED services, another round of failed therapy, more medications, an unsupportive job and eventually 8 months of unemployment; I am sat here. In one piece. About to start my latest adventure.

I was empty, there was nothing left of Becca. And yet, I still had friends who loved me; people who spent endless hours telling me it would be ok, that I was beautiful, that I was loved, that God loved me (even when I was a total mess!). They came over to cook for me when I couldn't face cooking, they gave me a safe place to stay for a night when I couldn't trust myself, they turned up on my doorstep when I tried to push them away, they text me just to remind me they were there. I couldn't have done it without them all, nor without God providing for me when I thought I had lost everything. I needed stability in a whirlwind of chaos.

This time last year, I never imagined I would be sat here now. I couldn't see the next hour, let alone the next year. But here I am. I came out the other side. I'm not going to sit here and say everything is ok now. It isn't. I know I still need my medication every single day; no matter what that little voice says. I know that change still sends me spiralling to an extent. I know I'll probably need to end up back in therapy at some point. I know that the little voice gets louder when I'm tired, and when I'm hormonal. But I know there is so much more than taking those pills I crave. So much more than trying to starve myself until I don't exist. Sometimes we need darkness to appreciate the light. Sometimes we have to have moments to remind us how far we've come. I'm dealing with new things. Things I hadn't ever mentioned before. But it's because I'm stronger now. I can cope (just about). It isn't easy but I know it's going to be worth it. God broke me down and rebuilt me once before, He can do it again. I know He will. And this time I need to trust Him, because it will be worth it. Life is so much more worth it than sitting every day hoping this will be my last, hoping that people forget about me, praying that I don't wake up the next day. That's not even existing. Life is for living. Please, if you're hurting, know how loved you are, how valuable your life is, know someone is waiting for you to talk. It's terrifying, but it's worth it. Please. Speak out. No life is ever worth destroying. Hold on. Reach out. I love you.

Finally, I just discovered this blog post. It's haunting. It's beautiful. It has better words than I ever could write. Please read it. Don't be afraid.