SIAD

Today is Self Injury Awareness Day. A lot of you may not know this… especially if you think it doesn’t concern you. Well it does. Everyone you meet or pass by in the street has had one form of self injury or another. As I’ve previously explained we all have our coping mechanism’s.

Today I’m struggling for many reasons. There are reasons today that not one person knows about. Then there are reasons that people are aware about.

Today I’m struggling with being able to do anything. I’m struggling to get up. To smile. To keep myself hydrated. I’m struggling to stay strong.

I’ve lost my lack of motivation today. There’s nothing anyone can say that makes me want to do anything. I don’t want to be me today.

The whole idea around SIAD is for awareness. Awareness that there are people every single day who suffer. A lot in silence. Harming themselves in a various amount of ways to cope. Sometimes they just need someone to scoop them up into their arms and hold them. Sometimes they just need someone to tell them they are loved and wanted.

Sometimes you can be the person to change that person’s life.

Sometimes you can be the person to make others aware. But actually sometimes it’s handy to just be aware yourself.

Don’t judge them. Don’t question them. Don’t point or stare. Just accept it.

SIAD – we all have some form of scars. Just be aware.

Have some awareness.

Fight Flight Freeze

I think people underestimate the subconsciounce of others. Bystanders constantly judging other people’s ability to make their own decisions in their own situations.

People often talk about how if they were in that situation they would do things differently… but the realisation of it is – no you don’t know that. DO NOT tell me I was wrong for what I did, for my actions, for my Fight, Flight, Freeze response. DO NOT tell me that I should have had a different approach at it when I was the one lying there and not you. DO NOT tell me that I deserved it and it’s made me learn something. DO NOT tell me to get over it and move on. DO NOT ever tell me or any other survivor that it’s life and that it was deserved because I’m a woman and a woman’s body is not really hers.

I will use MY body as I wish. I will wear whatever I like. I will say whatever I want to without fear of this happening again.

I will reclaim my body, my mind and my soul in which was once innocent. I will reclaim it back and know that one day I will have a body that they haven’t touched.

I think I’m now very close to being ready to share my story. I’m ready to have a voice. So many of you lovely people have been on this journey with me. In my little boat sailing down the harsh rivers. For that I am certainly thankful. Others have been slightly different and turned their backs. For that I am sorry, I am sorry you couldn’t have understood my weakness and support me in a very crucial stage in this journey.

It isn’t over. It isn’t nearly over. I have trauma to process and things to challenge myself with. I have grieving to do and I have people and events to let go of. I will get there. I believe in the people that have said they can help me. Therefore I have to believe in myself too.

The barstard pleaded guilty.

I am angry. I am tired. I am sad. I am overwhelmed. I am traumatised. I am lost. I am broken, damaged and dark.

But I deep down know that that isn’t me. Not really. I am not that girl. I see it in sparks, in moments. The real me comes seeping through. Not for very long normally, but it is still there. Not lost completely and I haven’t forgotten about that part of me either.

I am not brave or strong. Please don’t call me that. All I did was tell my truth. Speak my words. Be honest and just speak out. That doesn’t make me brave or strong. That makes me human.

That also reinforces my need for being a feminist. So many women and men feel they have no voice. No mechanism to speak out and be heard. To tell their truths and story. Well it needs to end  the stigma. The rape, assault and abuse culture. IT NEEDS TO END.

 

NOW.

 

I’m trying to find a balance, I’m trying to figure out who I am.

Make friends they said. It’ll be fun they said. No and no. I don’t like people. I don’t like ‘bonding’ or this bullshit known as developing communication.

I don’t see the point. I mean, you’re born alone? (Most of the time, or I was anyway) and then you die that way anyway? Who cares about the inbetween when realistically it’ll do you more harm than good.

Anyone who’s seen me at my very worst and still stuck around deserves an award…

Well.. there is no award. No words or gift I could give anyone. I have nothing in me left to give. People keep using the words brave and strong. They keep saying I’m this great person but realistically I’m the person of their nightmares. I’m the person that they can’t bare to listen to because I have too much self hatred. I am the person that needs reasurrring 20 times before I understand that you’ve said I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m the person who laughs nervously and at the most innapropriate things, because sadly I was taught that way. I’m the girl who flirts her way out of awkward situations because it makes people smile along the way. I’m the person who texts you 100 times instead of calls because the voice inside her head tells her she’ll fuck up if she makes a two minute phone call. I’m always the girl that everyone wants to love but can’t. Even when it’s herself. See everyone sees this ‘beautiful’ journey of self discovery and self recovery but they don’t see the bad parts.

Oh how there are definately bad parts… Nobody sees the hours of tears and crying. The hours spent in front of the mirror rocking battling the reflection that is staring back. The hours in hospital convincing your loved ones and the mental health team that you didn’t attempt to end your life. It was merely to feel something.

Nobody shows you the other part of the journey. The bit that isn’t romanticized in movies. The bit that no-one talks about. The whispers of sadness that breaks from lips of the ones too scared to directly ask if I’m ok. I’m the poor girl who unfortunately took a bad turn in life. The unlucky one who had too much bad luck happen to her.

I’m still trying to figure out who I am as a person. I don’t know who that is anymore. Each trauma, each person I have come into contact with has changed who I am.  No-one really sticks around long enough to see the changes. In a strange way I’m glad. I’m not the person in books or movies that gets hurt, gets help and moves on. I’m not this pretty girl that has a life changing experience and becomes president. It doesn’t happen like that in real life.

All I know for sure is I’m writing and writing is the only thing I that I know for sure will never judge me, never abandon me or reject me and most certainly be on my journey with me.

Even in the darkest times

@thegirlwithabipolarmind

Somedays on my journey are good;

Somedays are bad;

It’s not a dirty word.

I  am a feminist.
I remember at 13 years old, being told that boys were better than girls. Not just by boys but by girls and by teachers and even by family. Boys got the better jobs and were stronger. They had a better stand in society and in turn were the better sex.
At 16 I recognised the inequality and belief that as a woman I stood no chance of power or success in this world. I would argue that I was strong and smart and powerful. I didn’t quite understand how nobody else could see what I could.
At school I didn’t get why it was normal for boys to go to the gym and lift whilst if a girl did it she would be suffering some emotional trauma about needing to lose weight. I didn’t understand why a man who smoked was sexy, dangerous and wild whilst a girl was dirty, unattractive and trampy. I didn’t understand why the teacher would choose the boys strength to carry the p.e equipment whilst the girls couldn’t. Why was football a man’s sport and netball left for the girls? I was good at football too.
When I tell people I am a feminist I get looks that could kill and words that could cut. When I explain the term feminism I get laughed at and told I am wrong. I am weak. I am a girl. Feminism or Feminist are not dirty words. They don’t taste bitter in the mouth. They are valid. They matter.
Being a feminist doesn’t mean you hate all men. It does not mean that you become better than men or any other woman.
Being a feminist doesn’t make me deserving any more than anyone. It does not mean I deserve power and strength.
I fight as a feminist for equality. I don’t want more than he has. I don’t want to be better than him. I want to have the same rights. I want to have the same chance he has. I want to be given the opportunity to be as good as him. Why are we living in a world that justifies the belief that because I bleed monthly I am weaker than a man? I can push a baby out of my vagina and continue to raise it afterwards. That is not to say because I have been gifted with a reproductive system I am better than any man. I just believe that as a woman, a gay woman at that I can single handily be as good as any man wandering this earth.
As a feminist I want to know why a man can have the decision to walk away after getting a woman pregnant yet a woman will be shamed and manipulated into believing she is the worst person on earth for deciding she is not ready for a baby either.
Why as a woman do I have to worry about what my very polite male colleuge is earning? Out of respect I daren’t ask but it is a question we feminists do wonder. Why you say? Because as a woman we have to fight for some form of equal pay. Because somewhere down the line someone decided that he can provide something in this job role I can’t.
I am a feminist because I believe that a woman should be able to wear whatever she chooses just like a man and not be belittled and targeted for it. A woman should be able to look however she likes and not be body shamed and compared to those in the media or those around her. I am a feminist because I want to be able to freely use the words vagina and breasts without them being sexualized.
I believe in feminism because rape and assault are things that happen all over the world everyday and I want that to change. I am a feminist because I believe that a woman deserves the chance to speak openly about her own story without being told she’s a liar and being told she’s to blame for what she was wearing and if she was drinking. Or just because she’s a woman.
I’m a feminist because I am sick and fucking tired of being slutshamed and cat-called when I walk down the street. I am a feminist because I am sick of being made to feel dirty and ashamed for having sex or falling for someone when men get lad points or a pat on the back for getting a girl into bed.

 

I am not a feminist because I think women are better than men. I am not a feminist because I believe woman hold the right to be in charge or because they should have power and hold the world in their hands.
I am a feminist because it is my right. Just like it is yours to be otherwise.
-thegirlwiththebipolarmind

 

 

When does it get better?

Does it even get better? 

Hi everyone, I’ve spent a couple of weeks attempting to write this blog post. Writing a bunch of paragraphs and deleting them again. Bringing up subjects I’d love to talk about, to then put them back in the box again. Some things are too emotional to talk about. Even if you know you need to let them out.

Scared.

My emotion at the moment is scared because I don’t know what is happening at present. I also do not know what is happening in the future. The future is scary for anyone but for me the past is scarier. The past will either make us or break us. I’m broken.

I believe that even if you break, one day you will have the ability to be pieced back together again. All the best things in life are those that were broken and regained their strength to build again.

But in the moment however, I am having a hard time trying to believe it will be ok. I’m scared. I’m completely unrecognizable. I don’t see the same girl stating back when I look in the mirror. I don’t see the same innocence I once believed was me. (I don’t actually see anything because I’m shit scared of the mirror and don’t look in it.. but that’s not the point lol).

I wish there was something I could do to change my past and reinvent my future before it expires in front of me. I want to have friends and eat breakfast and go and do normal things. I want to go to work and come back to my own beautiful home confidently. I want help. I need help.

I need help knowing how to help myself.

I have a pre trial court visit Monday and I’ve never been so scared. But what I’m more scared about is waking up tomorrow morning and not knowing what Sophie I will be. Will I wake up wishing I hadn’t? Will I wake up happy? Will I wake up planning to end my life?

I don’t know the answer to any of these questions. Every day is a fight. A fight for my life and a fight for freedom. A freedom I am learning to accept I deserve.

I want you all to know that you deserve freedom. You deserve redemption. You deserve the happiness intended. You deserve the right to being safe and happy.

We will get there together. I promise.

I’m here always

-thegirlwithabipolarmind x

I think it’s time to say goodbye

Happy New Year Guys. I Hope 2018 brings you happiness, health and lots of good times.

2017 hasn’t been the most pleasant year for a various amount of reasons. I can’t use the word ‘happy’ or ‘fullfilling’. I have been through a lot of stuff that has unfortunately and I hope temporarily changed me as a person. I’m not the person my friends or family once thought I was. I’m not the strong, independent, young free willed spirit I once would have been. Well… I guess from what 2017 has thrown at me some may actually take that as strong.

I won’t be naive to say that in a handful of hours I will become this shiny, new, happy person, because I wont. I also won’t proceed to tell the whole world that things will miraculously change the minute the clock strikes midnight. my mental health and wellbeing will not fix itself just because it is seemingly a new year. Lastly I will not and can’t tell you everything will change with a new year. It’s baring on impossible.

What I will say however is that I plan on continuing to still try and fight. Fight the battles, the situation and the family and spectators who watch on when they don’t believe in me. I will also say that I plan on progressing with my blogging and start my vlogging whilst continuing my poetry.

As the clock hits midnight just remember that there are people out there who are just wishing for goals like myself. To carry on pushing. To continue to breath even when your own body wants to give up it’s fight.

My toast tonight goes to everyone like me who has had a very long 365 days. Who has taken day by day just to get through slowly. Who has battled everyone around them and everything in their way. But most importantly for those that have battled themselves. I know how hard it is to fight a fight with yourself. this whole period is tough for me for a number of different reasons.

At the moment I’m struggling with my old bulimic self. The christmas period has always been a struggle for me, consuming food that everyone else eats and crying whilst you are investment beside the toilet throwing it all back up again. In a few days time it will be a year’s anniversary to one of the most surreal and traumatic events of my adulthood. In a few days time I will understand what it’s like to mourn the death of myself. A year on the second of January I lost myself and unbeknown until recently I lost my whole life around me. ‘

It’s funny, we use the term ‘anniversary ‘ and people automatically assume the good. Sometimes it is a date or a time or event that haunts you from the moment it happened.

I think if I had to have any goals this coming year it would be to try and combat my current coping mechanisms. To not let my good old friend Ed destroy me and my body through Bulimia. To work on a healthy way to control my diet and exercise and not let my food intake control me.

I do wish everyone around me a Happy New Year and I hope that you all gain a lot of happy times.

-thegirlwithabipolarmind

If you think this is about you, you must be guilty of something

Evening everyone,

I won’t lie, this one’s been playing on my mind for the past week or so and Ive been trying to get the guts to write it up.

I have someone who I looked at as a very close family member recently start showing their true colours. Someone who I thought loved me and cared for me betrayed my trust.

I have not got the time and/or energy to deal with fully grown adults acting/behaving like children. I also dont have the time for people to bitch and make up stories for situations they know nothing about.

DONT EVER sugur-coat my illnesses, no I dont just have slight depression that can be fixed with a tablet.

These few people that at one time or another I thought I could trust are now officially out of my life. For good.

I know you’re reading this, you know who you are. Now you can go and chat about this cant you.

Goodnight.

I don’t know how to communicate.

“Communication is key”

Is it? I don’t know how to do that thing that other people do. I don’t know how to communicate what is going on and what I’m feeling without the sheer disappointment in the voices of others. So I don’t. How do you communicate when your brain won’t function correctly. How do you spit a bunch of words out when you’re unsure how to put a sentence together. How do you believe that the conversation your blurt out, the one that takes you longer than it does other people, won’t go unnoticed and ignored and belittled?

You don’t. You will never know.

It is sad I guess, I don’t know how to communicate appropriately. At 19 years old this is something surely I should have mastered.. right? Wrong, I laugh nervously at the most inappropriate things; sad things. I become flirtatious and get myself in a pickle when I don’t know what to say. I talk really fast when I’m anxious and I swear a lot when I’m excited about a conversation. I cry at the littlest thing.

I can’t hold normal conversations with people, even my manager because I cry from the get go. I could never talk to my colleagues or family because of the fear of rejection and humiliation.

The fear of being judged by people more than I judge myself.

Give me a question on why I find rape and assault wrong. Or why I believe music is the answer. Give me a question I can take a feminist approach on and I will pour my heart out. Talk to me about my feelings and why I’m struggling to get out of bed and survive another day and I can’t tell you.

I can’t make friends. I can’t do new things. I can’t message people first anymore or upload a picture without evaluating it first. I can’t sit for five minutes and not wonder what if.

Communicating is hard. Talking, shouting, screaming… It’s hard. Being able to have the gift of the gab for once would be appreciated. Just so I could deal with things. When people talk to me and I just nod or smile. When people crack a joke and I can’t laugh. When people ask me if I’m ok and I say I’m fine. I wish I could laugh sincerely and be honest about how I feel. I wish it was that simple.

Life can’t be simple, but sometimes I wish someone could guide me with a little pathway for a route of a little success.

That’s all I ask.

Em pleh

Stay strong, stay focused, stay with me x

– thegirlwithabipolarmind x

For each scar I have, tells a battle I have faced.

Anyone who knows me, who has taken the time to share their time with me, knows my body holds a lot of scars. Battles that I have faced and won. I like to look at it as if I have won, yes to many, scars are classed as ‘weak’ but i believe that a scar on your body that has been created is more strength of my journey than suicide which would have ended it.

The thing I have an astronomical amount of hate towards is people’s invalid options of someone elses coping mechanism’s. I believe that everyone has a way of coping whether they know it or not. When something bad happens or you feel a certain way. You put your focus into something else. For some people it goes unnoticed as it’s classed as ‘natural behaviour’. Like going to work, going to the gym or seeing friends. Other people have coping mechanism’s that are more frowned upon, smoking, selfharming, clubbing and drinking. All of these are just as acceptable. Yes I agree, some are not ideal.. but it helps you cope. Until you can say you’ve been in the rut of using these coping mechanism’s or having someone near and dear to you, you wouldn’t understand. I am completely for the fact that everyone has their own ways and own options for what is right for them and I am in no way suggesting these will help you more than others. But what I am not cool with, is people belittling others for it when they have no idea what battle they have conquered or even what battle they are currently in the middle of.

Within the past few years I have faced all sorts of malicious comments and digs about the scars upon my body.

“Someone’s had a fight with Freddy Krueger” “omg you look awful. Why would you do that?” “Selfharm is stupid you end up looking ugly” “you’re an attention seeker” “You know you won’t kill yourself cutting that way” “can you wear long sleeves it’s embarrassing” “How have you got the guts to wear shorts?”

And recently I’ve had comments about other coping mechanism’s even about my blogging. I like writing. I like talking. I like expressing how I feel. I like going in the garden for a cigarette when I want to feel the bitter cold brush my face after I have made my eyes sore from crying. I like having a glass of wine if I want to celebrate the fact that I woke up this morning even though I went to sleep hoping not to. I like to share my recovery story no matter how little my recovery has been.

You know what I don’t like? The comments from people who have no idea what it’s like to surf the urge tell me that they’re disappointed in me for a relapse. Those who say that it won’t help and I’ve ruined 2 months of recovery. Well… For all those who are attempting recovery right now I want to say well done. I am proud of each and every one of you. No matter how many blips you have in between. However many relapses you may face that won’t take away the recovery period. Blips happen and that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t be proud of yourself. Fuck it. If no-one else is? I am proud of you.

Is was sitting in the hospital yesterday waiting for my ultrasound at the breast clinic. I had already been seen by another lady previously so I was sat in my top. Stuff fumbling about when I was going to take it all off again. A lady I was sat next to started up conversation. A lovely sweet lady with a kind face. Now for those with anxiety, you know how difficult these situations are, better yet. In this setting. Her kind words are still stuck within my head. Among many other things she also said “it will get better. You will smile again. You’re strong”. The thing is. Not even she probably knows the effect that what she said has had. Everyone has the ability to save a life. All it takes is one person to acknowledge the pain of another to help ease the mental pain within.

My point is, nobody is saying you have to fully understand peoples reasoning. Nobody is saying that you need to know the right thing to say. But the difference between having someone stare at my scars and make judgmental comments and having someone smile at me and ease my fears is a massive thing.

The truth is yes it will get better. Eventually. At some stage. But it’s the inbetween that hurts. That’s the struggle. That is what we have to get through. We will get through it together. I believe in us. I believe in you.

Stay strong, stay focused, stay with me x

-thegirlwithabipolarmind

 

 

 

Where there is desire there is gonna be a flame, where there is a flame someone’s bound to get burned. Just because it burned doesn’t mean you’re gonna die. You’ve got to get up and TRY.

Jheeze it’s frickin’ cold.

You know what makes me giggle? When people say having anxiety is a choice. Like yeah darl, I really chose to have anxiety and have the panic attacks that are coming with these frickin’ train journeys, oh I guess I chose that to. Not my fault I’m a crazy girl who needs therapy 😪

If someone had said to me a while back that ‘fresh air helps’ I will be honest, I probably would have laughed in their faces cos why would the fact I’m freezing my knockers off help me? In fact I would have told them that I’d be more depressed that I was cold.

Well it’s autumn (I Think? Lesbehonest (hehe get it?) I didn’t really pass my subject that told you which seasons which.) Anyway, my ISVA has some wacky ideas… heya I know you’re reading this!!! But this one was awesome.. took the scenic route back to my therapy session. It was absolutely beautiful there were beautiful flowers, a little lake,pond thing? Statues, all sorts of beautiful sitings. I was actually in my element. I Will however say I did not appreciate being made to run, away from squirrels.. Yes squirrels. They’re scary things. Ever seen Charlie and the chocolate factory?

Sorry got distracted; by squirrels!!!!😳

It was a beautiful walk in the park, costa hot chocolate in one hand, camera at the ready in the other. It actually helped. I was focused on my beautiful surroundings and for that little bit of time I didn’t have to worry about the thoughts in my head. Castle park is absolutely massive. It was far to cold to walk round the whole thing but to feel the bitter ice cold wind press itself against me for that walk was incredible. (Again I know I’m a bit of a crazy person) it actually helped. It felt good to not only be in control of my own little journey and where I was headed but also it felt good to just breath. I find it so difficult lately to breath and take my time and not talk. Not be a certin way or worry about what people thought of me. I could do whatever I liked (within reason.. I didn’t jog the perimeter naked or anything 🤣

I do get so fixated of people and what they’re intentions are and what they think of me. I’e always got on with people older. I was made to grow up from a young age. I like conversations, although my anxiety doesn’t. Get this, I have this lovely lady I know… I met her because she taxis me around everywhere because I’m too crazy to go places without breaking down. She is amazing. She knows who she is and how much she’s helped me. Just by having a little  (or big cos let’s face it hun were both chatterboxes😉) it helped me face the train journey I was dreading, it made it that little bit easier.

The problem with getting on so well with people like this means that I’m always waiting, I’m waiting for them to leave or not care anymore and tbh I practically set myself up for a fall. My little voices tell me that everyone secretly hates me. Tells me not to bother people or listen to the nice things people do say. It tells me that no-one cares. This is so difficult because I end up drifting and end up with no-one. Which yes is my fault I suppose.

I do think today, whilst yes I am still struggling a lot. With my inner demons and the people around me, it has been quite positive. Yay! I said it. You lot best be pleased.

So honestly, so something outrageous. Go and take a walk or run. Go and feed the ducks. Hell go and do what YOU want. Go and do what YOU need.

The fresh air helped me. The scenery helped me. I’m not promising it works. But you have to TRY. Even if it feels impossible. He’l I know how hard it is to even get into the shower sometimes. But try and if it doesn’t work? Try something else. Because I know it’ easier said than done. But nobody else can do it for us unfortunately. We’ve got to get up and TRY.

#THANKSPINKFORTHEINSPIRATION

Stay strong, stay focused, stay with me

Thegirlwithabipolarmind x