Firstly I would like to say what this blog's aim is. It's a space for me to interact with you. It's a space for me to share my stories and the tips I've learned on dealing with bad mental health. It's to try and make it a safe space for people feel comfortable talking about mental health and to try and make it much less of a taboo topic than it is now. (Even though it's come a long way in the past couple of years which is great.)
I'm really passionate about mental health as it's something very close to me. I don't want to be afraid to get personal on here because that's what it's for, it's to prove that there's nothing to be ashamed to talk about. It might take me some getting used to, but eventually I hope I'll be able to feel mighty confident on here, and hopefully make a safe space, even if it's only a small one, for people to talk.
First I'd like to tell you all a little bit about my mental health. When I was sixteen I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. I'm now nearly twenty three and my anxiety is the worst it's been since I was doing my A Levels when I first got diagnosed, except this time it's slightly worse because this time round I'm an adult, and I have responsibilities that I can't afford while my mental health is in a bad shape. It goes round and round in circles, but I'm slowly getting there.
I had therapy twice, as well as seeing the school counsellor when I was sixteen. Therapy was good and I would definitely recommend it. It allows you to get rid of all your dark and troubled thoughts out onto someone you don't have to be scared about being ashamed or disappointed in you. That's how it was for me, anyway. I felt so ashamed and scared to tell my family that I was self-harming and having suicidal thoughts, but I told me therapist and she helped me through those feelings and made me feel better about them. Even if it's not to do that, even if you just want some advice on what to do, if you want to know why you're feeling the way you are. There's always a good reason to see a therapist in my opinion.
Now for the first time I'm on antidepressants for my anxiety. It's been something I didn't want since I was first diagnosed. I've always been very adamant that I didn't want medication, so it was difficult for me to say yes when my doctor asked me. After weeks of convincing myself it meant giving up, I suddenly realised that this didn't mean I was giving up, it meant I was strong enough to admit that I needed help. For years I'd refused it due to my own stubbornness and independence while telling myself that I could get better on my own. I'd had this mindset for so long that I did feel like I'd let myself down by finally accepting the medication, but actually it meant that I had to be strong enough to say "actually yeah... I could do with a little help".
I'll leave it there otherwise I'd ramble all night. But I want big things for this blog. I have lots to share, and lots of stories to tell and I hope you'll join in.
Until next time,
-M x
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