Tag: mental wealth

Bi What?

Posted on by parentingwithaddedchallenges

This is a copy of a blog I wrote for a Bisexual Bipolar site which is new, but thought Id share here too:

Battling multiple identities can and is complex, there is always a niggle at the back of my head when meeting new people as to just how open about life to be.  Do they need to know my complicated history of mental ill health? Do they need to know I’m pansexual, gender fluid and polyam? It will become clear I’m a parent but does it need to be said out loud? Or are or is there a way of keeping these things contained, bit like the elusive round peg fitting snug in a round hole, only I am not a round peg and my life is far from a round hole, instead it is a star shaped peg trying its hardest to be transparent with life, as why hide what is intrinsic and by denying it to those whom matter is denying it to me.

Childhood plagued with attraction to humans, genitals or wanted genitals had no impact on the attraction, just people as a whole fascinated and still do send me off day dreaming to what could potentially be, and how will they perceive me?  Will they get to know the hyper, energiser bunny? Or the on the floor taking all energy just to sit and rock when the depths of depression creep in, whilst the whole time riding the wave of pansexuality and the non-conforming to heterosexual and monogamy idealogy.  As years passed names and terms begun to feature, they made sense, but bipolar why that, am I a bear disguised as a human, for I knew of human bears and fairly confident I don’t meet their requirements.  And Bisexual didn’t work as gender is a spectrum, certainly not binary so why make me choose a side to which my attraction lay?

Mid 20s, attending Bi-Con for the first time, realising hey its ok I am me, I am valid, and others like me exist, they will embrace me for me and to hell with mainstream society this is heaven on earth and I don’t want its tranquillity and self-care to end, only to be on a downer when it did, counting days till the next 4 days with epic humans who got the real me, unmasked and unfocused.

But then just as I found self-acceptance back into the closet I was forced, bolts on, rope shackled to failing limbs as parenting begun.  Asked at stay and plays “what does your husband do” whilst muttering to myself “rot in hell as he was a violent pig, feeble excuse of a human none I am glad to be shot of” hiding choosing not to disclose the then female with me was in fact my girlfriend at the time as the boy I was regularly with was also my boyfriend, how to explain this when raised as an Orthodox Jew, it’d certainly get the community talking for all the wrong reasons.

Time passed and we come to the present day, mental wealth is slowly once more rebuilding, a solid group of friends who get me for me, they embrace the star peg and avoid at all costs attempting to get it to conform, the summers bring solace and Bi-Con once more, my daughter is 6, aware her parent is hers, but different to many, yet due to the naivety and innocence of childhood takes it in her stride.

Life might be days of highs, weeks of lows, but the intrinsic fabric is there, no shits who knows, I am Lea, I am Pansexual, Polyam, Bipolar and won’t fit as a round peg in your hole for you nor anyone and for the most part I am loved and cared for by my chosen village and they are epic.

Medication (or lack of)

Posted on by parentingwithaddedchallenges

So, yesterday ICS (Intensive Care Service) were supposed to bring me more medication at noon. It is now nearly 2pm the next day so 3 doses of medication missed.

The Psychiatrist whom came out for the planned visit told me “as you are on 2 controlled drugs issued by us their wasn’t anyone else around to sign them out so someone will bring them later today”. Ok fair enough.

Fast forward to 8pm and a good worker who has been phenomenal is on the phone informing me shehas searched not only their building but the one next door and no sign of any medication for me and someone will flag it in the meeting this morning and Il get a call back around 11am.

11am came n went so I rung them at 1pm, nearly a hour ago, they are now going to phone me back so sat waiting for pharmacy to bring general meds and ICS to bring 3 different ones.

Who says being a mental health service user isn’t rock and roll!

But it does ask the question where are the meds that the shrink was supposed to bring, where did they go?

I Said No!

Posted on by parentingwithaddedchallenges

I am a lover of live music, it makes me come alive, enables me a safe outlet to my emotions and enables me to feel.

But on Saturday I said NO.

A couple of years ago at Bicon I went to a workshop which to this day is probably the most profound workshop I have attended at Bicon as it was on learning to say no and that it is ok to say no to things and people just have to well deal with the fact you have said no and respect it.

The tickets for this gig were booked a year ago with a good friend, but the gig ended up rescheduled.

I spent the majority of last week in a bad place mentally and physically my body didn’t know if it was coming or going with pain levels and my head was fragile to say the least. Avoided self injury as Chris was home from work for the week, ironically signed off with stress and exhaustion but spent most the week looking out for me as I was a mess.

As it got closer to Saturday my anxiety intensified, but on Thursday I think it was I bit the bullet, sent a text to the friend I was meant to go to the gig with and simply said “am so sorry but going to have to bail as not up to it, and as the tickets are in my name and non transferable unfortunately will mean you can no longer attend the gig, hope you wont be mad at me”. Said friend didn’t seem bothered either way, at least that was the impression I got from his reply to my message.

I feel guilty buying tickets for a gig I never made it to but on balance know it is ok to say no to things even when they’re things I have looked forward to as I can’t put a price or value to my health and that matters far more than music. Their will always be another gig but they’re is only one attempt at health.

It is not easy to say no, it is harder to hear it from someone at times, but it is worth putting yourself first as you matter and to hell with the consequences as you are number one no one else.

Side note Bicon 2019 is booked and I CAN’T WAIT FOR MY 4 DAYS OF HUMANS WHO ACTUALLY GET ME AND I DON’T HAVE TO MASK ANYTHING COS BICON HUMANS ARE THE BEST HUMANS I HAVE COME ACROSS IN LIFE

New Hair – Self Care

Posted on by parentingwithaddedchallenges

An easy way those closest to me can generally work out how my head is to check how recently I have had my hair dyed.

Iv been partial to pinks, purples and blues for a couple of years now. Admittedly generally done at home but heyho.

As my hair also needed a cut and undercut reshaved I opted to go to a barbers in town.

Far too many spoons involved and exhausted now as one bod cut my hair, one dyed it, one washed it, another my undercut but after arriving at 9:30am I finally left at 14:10!

Here is a montage of images of different views of said new dye job and restyle on my undercut

Lots of vivid colour and I am in utter love with my undercuts pattern.

Self care is sometimes exhausting and today is one of those days.  Once the self care blues so to speak pass I will be able to enjoy my hair and the comments it will gain.

A Blog I Did As A Guest Blog Elsewhere

Posted on by parentingwithaddedchallenges

Last week I was asked via twitter if Id be interested in writing a Guest Blog, so I did, this is what I came out with, n as GUM ON MY SHOE posted it today I am posting it myself. Thank you GOMS for the opportunity to write for a different audience which ultimately was the kick up the ass to set up this blog:

MY JOURNEY TO RECLAIMING MY MENTAL WEALTH

It is only when we lose what we had that we realise just what we had. This is true in different elements of life. Sadly, this year it was true for me when it came to my Mental Wealth.

Between the ages of seven to twenty-two my Mental Wealth was lost, eaten alive and consumed by a range of people, from bullies at school, to the lack of trust shown by professionals who had the training to know better, and others. All this in addition to a rough deck of cards life had thrown my way.

Over those years, though, I was fortunate to spend a twenty-four week admission to The Crisis Recovery Unit, a specialist unit which was part of The Maudsley Hospital, which specialised in attempting to reach those for whom self-injury had become a coping mechanism.

I guess the best analogy I can make is that my body, my life, my experiences, my emotions were like an ostrich egg. The staff at the CRU chipped away slowly and methodically to break down the barriers I had put up as an act of self-protection. Once the external shell was cracked they chipped on until nothing remained of that egg. They then took the time and tenderness to build it back up, but equipped it with the skills and knowledge, not to mention self-confidence, that things can and will change, but that change has to come from within.

That was July 2001 through January 2002. For the first time my fears and my demons were not only heard, but they were held in mind whilst solutions – all of which I had to reach – were found and embraced. But this was not without many tears and setbacks as the journey to Mental Wealth began.

It worked. It lasted. Healthy coping mechanisms were adopted, psychiatry pushed to one side, a degree obtained, the loss of one of the few who gave unconditional love even whilst in my darkest of times, the birth of a child occurred, a divorce happened, a house move and more – all whilst maintaining that wealth.

But as is so often the case with these things, life had other ideas. In May of this year (2018) I was raped twice within six days by a so-called friend of over three years. He had methodically taken time to manipulate, use and lure me into a false sense of safety and trust. He had obtained power to know my buttons, how to push them and ultimately use them against me. I did the right thing and reported it to the police, but as all of this was going on the Mental Wealth I had gained rapidly disintegrated back to the crumbs and fragmented shell which the CRU had provided the skills and self-awareness to enable me to build back up.

Sanity fell. It fell like stale about-to-go-green-and-mouldy bread fed to ducks by children at the park. Any healthy ways to express emotion failed, and thirteen and a bit years of freedom and stability were lost. After caving in to self-destructions, and a psychiatric hospital stay, it is safe to say Mental Wealth was well and truly lost to the sink hole of life. Full blown Mental Illness had returned.

Last week the police informed me that they are unable to take the case forward to court due to lack of witnesses and/or CCTV, but who actually has these things when it comes to rape? A felt a sense of abandonment from the very agency which claims it is there to help and support, urging those who survive not to be silenced but with the emergence of the “Me Too” campaign to find their voice and speak their truth. I spoke mine, yet I am the one living with additional physical scars to layer on top of the mental and emotional ones he left as his legacy, whilst he walks the street continuing to spend his days oblivious to the damage and detrimental impact his actions have left behind.

In a vague attempt to self-soothe, self-manage – and self-sabotage if truth be known – self-injury has occurred once more, medical treatment obtained. The urges remain. The self-love for now is, temporarily I hope, on a shelf. I am trying to regain my grasp on it but it is hard. It is going to be a long journey to reclaim all I had.

If I know one thing it is that once this storm passes a butterfly will re-emerge. But it is hard to keep attuned to that vision when even as I write this I am in physical discomfort and pain following an episode of self-injury earlier this week which left my leg a mess. And I am mentally reliving all that he did those two days when he stole so much.

Asking for help is a hard yet brave step to take. I asked. I begged. I reached out. I cried. I screamed. Services were offered eventually but it took a breakdown to obtain a hospital stay. Services then deemed that due to their funding I had used my time and had to move on, although they acknowledged the distress I am living with on a daily basis. That was a sharp and bitter pill to swallow.

I am mindful that I am fortunate to have a private therapist trained in trauma who is enabling me to regrow and relearn and acknowledge and accept all that has occurred this year and its impact on me. After previous experience of being unreachable or untreatable by too many therapists my guard remains high. Nevertheless, she is thankfully equipped with the skills to see through the facade and get to my gut, to know what I need but may not want to hear, enabling me to try do things differently the next day.

So much has been lost, but I cling to the hope Mental Wealth will return some time soon. Until then all I can do is keep on as I am, vocalising when in distress, reaching out in the hope light will return, and pray no one else suffers in ways I have.

Therapy

Posted on by parentingwithaddedchallenges

Due to events earlier this year (at the end of May/Start of June) I was raped twice within six days by the same person.   This person had spent nearly four years of his life obtaining my trust, he had relocated from down south to Yorkshire and set up a shop, I love to support and will continue to support independent food retailers instead of throwing money at high street mass supermarkets as love finding gems you can’t  find elsewhere.  Anyways as time passed he obtained a fair bit of information about me and my past, he was aware I am a survivor of past sexual violence and assault, he knew I walked from a marriage due to domestic violence and obtained a fair bit of other information about my past which had led to a then decline in mental wealth and emergence of mental illness.

He also knew I was earlier this year celebrating 13 years clean of self injury, something no one not even myself years ago would have thought was a possibility, but that was the reality THIRTEEN YEARS AND NINE DAYS clean is what I achieved,, I lasted, I refrained, even after all he did when he did what he did I held out a little while, with reflection not sure how but utter grit and determination saw me reach the milestone.

BUT due to his actions and me having a full on breakdown in mid June (2018) resulting in an admission to a psychiatric hospital and subsequent brief “support” and I use that word lightly from the Community Mental Health Trust (CMHT) who have subsequently discharged me for outstaying my welcome, I wasn’t aware of a time limit being on Mental Health but evidently they have one n I failed to reach it so they have once more washed their hands of me.

I fortunately ended up reaching out and finding a private therapist whom specializes in Trauma and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and she is a life line, a voice in the darkness of all of this, but sadly is not without cost, and due to that I had no option but to set up a fundraising page to enable me to pay her as I am a solo parent whom is expected to currently survive on benefits and therapy means going without so much to attempt to reclaim my mental wealth.  If you are able to help me with reclaiming my wealth itd mean a lot link is here

The system is broken, it needs a overhaul, my head is a very unpleasant place to be the vast majority of the time, so much not only mental wealth and abstinence from self injury was stolen by him when he raped me, too many things and causing too many far reaching aspects of my day to day life, that for the most part I feel like I am a small fragment of what I was and had worked so hard to become.

It is hard to ask for help, even harder when so called help gets thrown back in your face time and time again doors are closed, self injury occurs, whilst the physical is stitched and or stapled back together the long term remains a open gaped wound trying to self soothe and heal when life wants to pollute it once more.

Recovery is not going to be easy, but I am trying, some days I succeed just by getting out of bed and facing another human being for a conversation, others I hide and admit defeat, but I will keep trying to get there, to where I was, it is just going to take a long time.