Our blogs and stories

At some point the fun started to dwindle and I found myself riddled with anxiety the next day, often wondering what I did and who I was with last night.

The contradictory information became too much, and it seemed that being part of two cultures was hard work.

Despite the hardship, life is hopeful, some days are tough, but the good days allow me to continue pushing through my recovery. I could have never imagined my life where I would be speaking about myself having a mental illness.

Because of anorexia, my bones are now so fragile I can’t carry my two-year-old nephew or put him to bed; any fall is likely to result in fractured bones and increase my level of dependency.

I wasn't always the easiest, greatly misunderstood, failed by the system, bullied from most angles. Many reasons why I did it. But none of the attempts made a difference. I didn’t feel better or worse.

I had several stays in psychiatric hospitals and went to A&E regularly with suicidal thoughts. My parents had to sit with me at home, to keep an eye on me as I never felt safe.

I truly believe that being able to talk about how you feel is so empowering. It helps to take control over the situation without bottling things up, which I’ve found is very unhealthy. Please speak out – you will be heard, like I was.

My first memory of feeling depressed and hopeless was when my Grandad passed away when I was 14 or so years old. I was absolutely floored.

I couldn’t stop myself from thinking that the only way to succeed would be to work myself into the ground and avoid confronting my deteriorating mental health, because in my mind, my bipolar was holding me back.

They didn’t regard a panic attack as a good enough reason for absence – I imagine they didn’t understand how physically tiring and emotionally draining a panic attack can be.

The hospital near my home in Shrewsbury was truly exceptional. They listened, and they cared and took into account all of my problems. Under consultation with a cardiologist, I restarted my antipsychotic to a higher dose, and my life has improved...

I love and admire him more now for what he’s been through and we’re stronger as a couple. I can’t wait until we get married in two weeks!

I feel my life is a continuum. My son hasn’t really worked for the past six years, and I sometimes feel he has been living half a life.

For me, it was completely devastating. It led to time off from work, panic attacks and hours crying. I thought my relationship was over and there was nothing I could do to save it but I couldn’t understand why.

Getting some closure brought me great relief but unfortunately, knowing what was wrong with me didn't help in getting better, and I panicked, thinking I’d be stuck in this forever.

My symptoms vary, but at worst I lose touch with reality, hear abusive and aggressive voices and am severely paranoid with persecutory delusions.

It was both a shock to be diagnosed with a serious mental illness and a relief that my unreal experiences of the preceding 18 months (including a suicide attempt and messianic delusions) were a known condition with recognised treatment.

As an adult I think this is where I really begun to become mentally unwell. My life was falling apart, and I was exhausted from fighting my inner self.

I couldn’t maintain relationships, manage my emotions and often found myself feeling out of control. I was unable to take part in social gatherings and often opted to avoid any event which might involve food.

It could be emotionally draining at times, but I knew that I could always talk to my manager or another member of staff if things got difficult.

That’s when the person I was talking to tried to sweep it aside, saying “I’m talking about you apart from your bipolar”, gesturing that the two could be split and treated as separate entities.

There were times that I had mental breakdowns and sought more severe help at mental facilities. These places helped me recollect my mental clarity and I met a lot of incredible people on my journey.

It can be easier to fight a monster when it has a name and traits you can work to battle.

Exercise, seeking professional help (The Early Intervention in Psychosis Team were incredible), and studying my degree were all paramount in my recovery. Setting myself goals and small daily tasks gave me purpose.

I just lost control. It wasn’t violently, I just didn't have a clue what was going on, and in the end I had the Wimborne mental health team and a paramedic fast response car at my home.

I was desperate for a distraction, and somehow stumbled across skateboarding. As I am such an uncoordinated person I expected it to be a total laugh and for me to fall on my butt and give up, but six months later I haven’t looked back!