Support

One of the first questions my Cognitive Behavioural Therapist asked me when I had my assessment session was: ‘Do you have support?’

Support is very important when you have a mental illness as often you can feel very isolated. You may feel like no one will want to talk to you about it, or you worry about alienating people and that they won’t understand. Due to the stigma that surrounds mental health, it means that it can be difficult to open up and talk about it, especially to those who have little knowledge of how mental health affects people. It can be tough, but, believe me, there are plenty of people out there who are, and will be, supportive.

As I was quite young when I first experienced mental health problems, it took me a long time to be able to talk to others about it. When you’re young it can be hard as a lot of people your own age don’t understand, and there are those who won’t think you’ll have gone through enough to constitute being unwell.

At the grand old age of 23, it’s much easier for me to talk about it; I’ve had plenty of time to come to terms with what’s wrong with me. However. people newly diagnosed at my age often feel the same sense of isolation I felt when  I was younger. The only thing I can say to those people is: ‘You are NOT alone.’ There are people going through what you’re going through, and people who have been through what you’re going through. It can be difficult to find them, but I assure you, they are there.

Group therapy sessions can be useful to put you in touch with people who are going through similar things, and a counsellor or therapist is also great to have as someone to talk to outside of your day-to-day life and they can give you an objective opinion on your problems. It is also important to have someone you can turn to and be there to listen when you’re feeling down. .

For me,  I have my boyfriend, dad, sister, mum and a few friends that I can just blurt out my problems/feelings/blah to and know they’ll listen, tell me I’m okay and then talk to me about it. You’re allowed to talk about your mental health any time, not just in a therapy session. There are people who will be happy for you to talk to them (and even want you to).

Having a network of support is immensely reassuring. I have to admit I’ve had a social cleanse over the last few years, and now I have a circle of good friends and family members that I know I can turn to when I need to. I found that, personally, I had to cut out or at least distance myself from those people who wouldn’t understand, or would at expect me to always be there for them and then not return the same courtesy. I felt I had to do it as they were bringing me down (and to be honest, I’ve told myself that if people don’t want to know me when I’m at my worst, they don’t deserve me at my best. Respect yourself Jenny!) Again, that’s what I had to do for myself.

Of course, there are people who get uncomfortable talking about your personal issues, and at times it’s important to respect that. People don’t always know how to react. It doesn’t mean they don’t care, it just might take them a little while to come to terms with what you have told them. I remember how some people reacted when I told them I pull out my hair, it’s not something that is often encountered.

In my opinion, that is exactly why we should talk about it more openly. It’ll not only help people see that mental health issues are just as prevalent and important to treat as physical health problems, but also help break down barriers surrounding mental health and broaden understanding of it.

The most important thing to remember is: You are not alone!

Anxiety and Me

I don’t want to spend too long on this, but I will briefly talk about what my relationship with anxiety is just so you know where I’m coming from.

The first time I really remember being affected by anxiety was when I was eleven. I just remember constantly feeling that I was failing, I’d forget a piece of homework, or not complete something and I’d get into panics. These were panics where I couldn’t sleep at night because I was so afraid of getting into trouble, but the more I panicked the more unable I was to get things done. This was when I developed trichotillomania. For those not knowledgeable about what trichotillomania is, it’s an impulse disorder characterised by the urge to pull out your hair (thank you for the simple definition, Wikipedia.) While practically balding my scalp didn’t make me the coolest kid in the class – I spent the next few months with my hair in a ponytail to hide the bald patch – the moment mum spotted the patch was the moment that we realised something was wrong.

The thing with anxiety is that you don’t always look anxious on the outside. Combine that with someone like me who tends to healthily bottle up their problems and you have a recipe for complete meltdown. When I was that young, I couldn’t vocalise what I was feeling, I don’t even think I understood what I was feeling, so all that stress released itself through me pulling out my hair.

The next time I had a bad bout of anxiety was halfway through Year 11. I can’t really say what I was feeling, mainly because when I try to remember that period (January and February in particular) the only thing I can visualise is the colour black. That and the week the skin on my face completely dried out and went flakey because I used the wrong skin cleanser. Fun.

It took me until about the Easter holidays of Year 13 to actually sit down and think “there’s something wrong, and I need help.” By this time it was very hard for me to think positively about myself.

Being on my own was awful.

There were many times at school when during free periods I’d end up locked in a cubicle in the girls toilets crying because I was convinced that the reason I was on my own was because no one liked me. I was stupid. I wasn’t going to pass my exams. I was worthless.

I don’t know what it was that suddenly made me realise I was unwell, but luckily I did and I ended up with a brilliant counsellor. I passed my exams, went to uni and spent four years of my life feeling great. I went Japan, made great friends, met my lovely boyfriend and then graduated with a good degree. Things were going well for me.

Then I started looking for work properly, and along with that I was visited by an old friend. Hello anxiety! What I noticed this time around was how much it affected me physically. I lost weight, my stomach seemed to constantly hurt (cue convictions of bowel cancer), my chest hurt (cue convictions of heart problems), my head hurt (I’m definitely dying), I felt sick, was sick, lost my appetite – I didn’t feel great. Mentally… well, let’s just say job seeking and rejections take their toll and don’t lend themselves well to happy thoughts. By October I had a collection of diagnoses, IBS and some betablockers to help my chest chill out. I started Cognitive Behavioural Therapy and it’s by far the best thing I could have done. After three sessions my scores were already down from severe anxiety and depression to moderate to low, and at the end of the six sessions I was checked out feeling good and having got a grip on things.

Obviously, anxiety is something that is always there for me. I still get pains, I still have betablockers, but I also have a good set of skills that help me keep my anxiety from exploding all over the place and making a big old mess.

The main thing I’ve learnt:

It’s okay to not be okay.