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

Courage

Courage is a word I don't often hear these days, and yet these last few days the following quote has been floating around my head.

'Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying"I will try again tomorrow"'

Several people this week have mentioned that I have so much courage, and at first I've been very quick to correct them: I don't do anything major that warrants that label. In induction week I used the adjective "brave" to describe myself because others said it, not because I believed it. However this quote keeps reappearing and I'm beginning to realise what people mean. No, I'm not jumping off cliffs, or climbing mountains or putting myself completely out there, but I am getting up every morning, I am getting myself to work every day, I'm not running away when things get difficult, I'm starting to speak about things. While others may see these things as trivial; something they manage without even thinking, these are my mountains that I am climbing. 

It's been one roller coaster of a week. I went to a different church on Sunday, my nana spent a night in hospital, Alpha is a challenge, I'm angry at my parents, angry at God, struggling to fight the destructive thoughts, feeling totally unwanted by many people, I've cried my eyes for hours, I've screamed at my pillow, vented at so many and yet my working week is nearly done and here I am. I'm still standing and with a tiny bit of energy left. I'm amazed as the next person that I'm still going. 

People this week have said that it's a privilege to be part of my journey, that they're really proud of me, that I'm doing so well. I've laughed at most of them and told them to stop lying to me, but as I sit typing this I'm beginning to realise that they're right. I'm defying a lot of odds right now. 11 months ago, I didn't even know if I'd wake up the next morning and here I am beginning to live, not simply survive. Someone else said to me this week that those who struggle the most are healing and growing and end up thriving. I'm praying this applies to me too. Right now I don't know what I'll be doing in a year, and I don't really want to know either, but actually I know I'll be alive. I may still only be just learning to walk through life, but that's ok. These things take time. I'm healing day by day. God has been telling me this week I need to slow down. I do, before I burn myself out again. It's not sustainable to live at the pace I have been, never wanting to stop to enjoy the journey and only focusing on the destination. That's not the way to go. I'm starting to see that. Right now I need to be brave every single day and face the demons that tell me to run, to disappear, to give up. I may not shout loudly, nor seek praise for these things, but just getting out of bed is enough sometimes and I notice only by reflection. Reflection that only happens when I stop and take a breath. 

It's ok. I can be courageous, just in my own little way. 

Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be courageous; be strong. Do everything in love.

-1 Corinthians 16: 13-14

It's not all rainbows

A friend of mine wrote a new blog post today and so I hopped on over to her blog to read it. And then her post from a year ago caught my eye. She wrote about how she thought things would be easier now she lived with other Christians and worked for a church, but it was still difficult. It hit home. I've hit exactly the same wall, and I've been kind of avoiding blogging because I don't want to sound horrible and negative.

Genuinely, I love this place; I love the people I live with; I love the work I'm doing; I love my boss; I love that I have a room mate. That doesn't mean everything is rosy.

I think one of the hardest things for me recently has been living in community. We do everything together; live, work, eat, pray, socialise. I am not used to that. Over the last 3 weeks I have had a crash course in living with people. Over the last 8 months I have taught myself to cope with mental illness. I have not yet taught myself to cope with mental illness while living in community. It's flipping hard. I want to shut down and hide in bed until my brain resets. I want someone to hug me 24/7. I have not yet managed to find the balance; letting people in without worrying them. It is hard.

I had a bit of a bad experience my first week. A fellow intern didn't believe something I disclosed to her. Since then it has been increasingly hard thing to open up, because what if no-one else believes me? The other night, while on Alpha training, we had to do a role play. My character was one with a negative attitude. Someone else in my group commented after that it's really hard to deal with me when I'm being negative and that I'm a heavy presence. They were commenting on the character, alas it went straight in to my head "See, you're heavy. Lose some weight. People might take you seriously then. No-one likes a miserable cow."

I had a 1:1 meeting with an incredibly trusted person yesterday. She was present for the Alpha training and mentioned that she was frantically praying when my "negative attitude" was being commented on that I didn't take it to heart. At least I could be honest with her about it all! I had one of those moments while speaking to her when I say things I didn't even realise I was thinking, I'm not going to lie, my head is a lot darker than I care to say out loud, but she gets me and doesn't shy away when I tell her the truth. We talked, I cried, we laughed, she prayed. I felt better.

I know one meeting doesn't fix everything but admitting it is the first step. I'm exhausted and I find it so much harder to fight when I'm tired. I'm constantly busy and I've been neglecting the life-affirming friends who mean so much to me. I'm giving myself constantly but not taking time for myself. This has to change. I cannot survive like this.

In our first week our School of Ministry pastor gave us a bit of a catch phrase, that he'd been given while praying; "not just surviving; thriving" and right now I'm bouncing in the ocean. I'm not sinking, but I'm definitely not swimming. It's not a life, it's an existence. I have such an opportunity this year and I cannot throw it away because I let mental illness win for the 100th time. I need to embrace every moment of time with people, but also make time for myself. Sometimes that time for myself can be with my dearest friends, sometimes it can just be taking an extra long shower. I need to focus on our teaching sessions. It's such a gift to be getting such amazing theology teaching and I don't want to miss out. Most of all I need to grow closer to God in so many ways. I need to be more disciplined. Sit and have quiet times with God, read my Bible every day, take time to listen to what He wants to say to me.

Yesterday a friend told me "sometime we have to have bad days in order to see the progress we have made". I couldn't see it as she said it, but the more we talked the more I saw just how far I've come in 11 months. And I've got 11 more months to go even further. Challenge accepted.

Settling In

A week goes incredibly fast when you're busy. It has been 7 days since I moved from the comfort of my own room, in a small place, with one other person and a tortoise for company to a shared room, in a 4 storey house, with 10 other people. I predicted this would be horribly overwhelming and I wouldn't be able to cope and I'd have a meltdown and be desperate to leave and go back to my own safe space. Apparently it's been quite different.

We started with a church event; God's Empowering Presence Day. It was long, and intense. There was lots of worship and seeking the Lord and some of it felt so irrelevant to me. However I started to realise (though it took me a few more days to articulate) that the world was starting to become brighter. The colours more intense. The people less intimidating. Now, don't get me wrong, I still find crowds and unknown people and being out alone at night particularly anxiety provoking, but things seem a bit more real. I've been floating through the world for so long and finally I'm beginning to find my place.

The earlier part of this week was spent meeting people. So many people. I'm so thankful that I know them all because if I had to learn names and offices and job roles and remember what they do for interns then my brain would have exploded. Alongside that, our pastor didn't give us a timetable until late on Monday afternoon. For a girl who likes routine and knowing what is happening, this was incredibly unsettling. But I coped, so much better than I could have expected, because everyone was in the same situation.

Wednesday afternoon was the thing I had been so desperately waiting for. Department time! The wonderful children's pastor took us out for coffee, outlined our job descriptions and talked a little bit more about our responsibilities. I'm going to be leading the weekday 0-5s group. Terrifying but exciting!

And then came our time off. So glorious. I saw 4 of the Oxford colleges with some of the girls, had coffee and cake with friends, cooked for everyone, and went to a house warming party. And it was all so wonderful. So many people commenting just how happy I seem at the moment. There's stuff going on under the surface; today I had a bit of an anxiety meltdown. But it's still so wonderful. And then my best friend today said how happy I looked in my photo and that it's so rare that my genuine smile is captured.

I'm so thankful. Things feel so right, even when it seems difficult. I have to appreciate every good day, because I can never guarantee the next.

This year won't be easy, but it will be worth it. I'm so excited to see how things change!

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; 
in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight" 
-Proverbs 3:5-6

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.

Saying Goodbye...

For some time now I've subconsciously known that this trip to New Jersey, that I've just returned from, would be my last. A couple of weeks prior to departure some things happened (which I am not going to divulge) and I began to admit, out loud, that really this would be my last adventure over there.

We arrived on the Friday. On the Saturday I was having to say the first round of goodbyes. Having spent ages preparing myself to say "this is going to be my last trip for a few years", I omitted that some may ask "why?". And so the first response to this was "I just feel like it's time to move on". In all honesty, that is a truly pathetic reply when saying goodbye to some dear friends who have supported you through some really tough times. Thankfully they didn't ask further questions.

As the week went on, the goodbyes got harder. I'd perfected the answer to "why?" and "I'm never coming back again" had morphed in to "I won't be back for a few years at least"; which is easier to say to people who care deeply.

And then we came to Friday- the day my travel buddy left. Now, there are things she knows about me that not even some of my friends who live round the corner know, and yet still I couldn't find the right words to use to say goodbye. I still haven't managed to give her a reason, but I know she won't ask. She knows I'll volunteer information as needed. She's been wonderful and a very dear friend. I know I'll see her again, I just don't know when.

Saturday, the day I left. The tears had to arrive properly at some point, and once they started they continued to pour down my face as I drove to the airport. The final goodbye was to a family incredibly dear to me. They've rescued me when the town I was in was evacuated because of a hurricane, they've driven me places, introduced me to a new jewellery addiction, never flinched when I've told them of my past, and always been there with an open door and a smile whenever I've been in the area. One of their daughters has Rett Syndrome (find out more here) but that's never stopped our adventures- especially when cake is involved! Over the last few months, as my interest in special needs has waned, my passion for Rett Syndrome research hasn't. If I ever get around to doing some elaborate sponsored event (namely skydiving or abseiling) it will be for NJRSA. This family mean the world to me. And as I hugged them goodbye, one last time, "goodbye" became "see you later" and I prayed that the next time I see them isn't related to illness/disaster.

It isn't often you get to say goodbye, knowing it very well could be the last time you see someone. You say "see you soon!" and then something happens and you never see them again.

I don't have many regrets in life, but one thing I do look back on with sadness is never being able to say goodbye to my uncle while he was still alive. Except it's not true. Because I did have the chance, but routine dictated; he came to say goodbye, I ran away and hid. Who, at the age of 17, changes the habit of a lifetime and suddenly decides to be kind to relatives? Who thinks, at the age of 17, that this will be the last time you see someone to close to you while they're alive?  I didn't. I wish I'd cherished the time we had together.

And so, while it now seems crazy to say "goodbye" so sincerely when I'm thinking "maybe in 5 years I'll go back" or "I want them at my wedding", it's because I'm scared that I'll miss my chance to. It's a "just in case" because I love them so much. It would make it to my regret list if I didn't say goodbye when I had the chance. I know it's "see you later" but it scares me to not say "goodbye". It's a silly fear. If I cry and say "goodbye", I don't mean "goodbye" or "see you later", I mean "I love you".

Keeping an Open Mind

Something is floating around my mind currently is when does a slip up become a lapse and when does that lapse become a relapse? I've slipped back in to several bad habits and I'm not sure at what point I need to tell someone something is wrong.

I know everyone has bad days. I know that I am no exception to this. But every single time I have a bad day, I freak that I'm falling back in to depression and ohmygoodness how can I stop it? Then wake up the next morning, feeling better, realising that the previous day was just "one of those days".

I recently had one of these bad days while away at New Wine. I felt completely empty, everything felt wrong and I had no interest in anything at all. I was afraid I was hitting full relapse territory. Christians often preach on passions, and how every Christian should have a specific passion. I currently don't have one and I was so scared. I didn't have a passion, my depression is very definitely linked to lack of interest in anything, therefore I was depressed again and I was never getting out. I spent the rest of the day wallowing in self-pity because I am *never* going to be well and I'm going to be stuck in the grasp of depression forever.

The next day I had a bit of a revelation. I didn't wake up with interest in everything again, nor did I wake up feeling a whole lot better. Wandering around the site I realised that I didn't have a passion anymore and that is a good thing. I no longer feel that I *should* be passionate about working with people with different needs. I no longer feel that I need to return to nursing because that is my training background. I no longer feel the need to travel the world to escape life here in Oxford. This doesn't mean I'm depressed. I have the chance to reset myself. Rather than being interested in nothing, I can be open to everything. I can enter my internship with a completely open mind. I won't be sat there thinking "this isn't what I want to do" or "I wish I were doing x,y or z instead, because I don't care for this" I can be wondering where the year will lead me instead of wondering what could have been.

I can enter the internship I'm totally open to the possibilities to see where God takes me. This isn't a relapse, it's a shifting of priorities.