The creation of a charity, from the very beginning.
I wonder sometimes if I’m the only person who has ever cried the way I’ve cried. There have been times I have felt so much pain that I can’t stand. I can barely breathe. My body feels so numb that I don’t feel connected to it at all. I am outside my body but entirely trapped within it. Where this pain comes from I do not know. But it is as real as any physical pain and is so much stronger than any fight I could ever put up against it.
April to November of 2013 was spent in agony. Panic attacks, dissociative episodes, self-harm, ferocious outbursts of rage, insomnia and incessant crying were daily occurrences. I was so submerged in the symptoms of mental breakdown that I lost myself. I became my symptoms. “I’m a mess.” “I’m useless.” “I’m insane.”
I realized I needed help one Friday in April. It was 5pm and I was in a good mood after a nice day at work. One of my young people had moved in to their first property and I was so happy for them. I got off the tram on the way home and rang my partner. He told me he was going to stay out for a few drinks with his colleagues.
I became so angry with him; not for any rational, reasonable reason. But we argued and hung up. I burst in to tears. As soon as I got home I put my bag down, looked around and with one fell swoop, pushed all the glasses and plates from the side on to the floor. I didn’t stop there. I threw chairs, bottles, smashed the walls. I blacked out with anger.
When I came round, I realized I was slumped kneeling on the kitchen floor in a pile of broken kitchenware, covered in my own blood. My heart was beating so fast. I couldn’t understand what I’d done. I knew then that I was not in control of my mind.
I was utterly lost.
My partner came home and rang the hospital. An emergency appointment was made for the Doctor at 7am the next day.
To be continued…