My name is Charlotte, I’m 23 years old and I have been
diagnosed with depression, bulimia nervosa and post-traumatic stress disorder
(PTSD).
Reaching Out
When I was just ten years old, I started turning to food for
comfort. It was my way of dealing with my dreadful home life. Fast-forward four
years, after gaining a lot of weight due to binge-eating, I started restricting
my food intake. Even though I wanted to lose weight, my eating disorder wasn’t
some sort of diet. It was a way I could finally have some control over something
in my life. This started a long cycle of restricting and then binging and
purging. I also started self-harming at the age of 14 and was diagnosed with
depression. School forced me into counselling which I hated. I didn’t get on
with my counsellor and was made to feel that everything I was going through
(poor home life, losing a friend to suicide, etc) was my fault. My GP prescribed
me with anti-depressants and suggested pulling me out of school due to it, but
I fought on. I was determined to get my GCSE’s and come out the other end.
Saying that, there’s nothing against people who do decide to leave education
due to their mental health, you have to do what’s right for you. Your mental
health should always come first.
Things improved after I finally left school. My whole mood
generally lifted. However, things started getting bad again when I started
college. My self-harm was bad as were my suicidal thoughts. To make matters
worse, I couldn’t go to any of my classes without having a panic attack. I didn’t
know how to reach out, so I left. I took a year out. That should have been a
productive year where I focused on my mental health, but the complete opposite
was true.
I returned to college the following September. My second
attempt at college was much better. I made friends for life, friends I’m in
contact with today, a couple even being my best friends. Despite me actually
enjoying myself, my mental health was still bad which in turn made my
attendance bad. This was something else I struggled with in school and got into
serious trouble for. History was repeating itself.
Finally, I reached out… but I wasn’t completely honest about
what I was going through. All I said was that I was struggling with sleep,
which wasn’t a lie. But I was really struggling with my depression, and I was
also experiencing hallucinations at night. This was when I was prescribed anti-depressants
again and I suffered with an allergic reaction. I remember refusing to turn up
to college because I had a bright red, bumpy face, arms, and legs. Luckily,
college started to become very helpful and understanding now that I was being
somewhat honest. My lecturers were supportive and helped me get good grades so
I could get into university. Other staff were also extremely helpful, such as
the mental health nurse and my learning mentor. I even started counselling
again, but once again didn’t get on with it, so I quit.
The Wake-Up Call
After college, things started to get better but never 100
percent. By my second year of university, I was in a deep, dark hole that I
couldn’t find a way out of. I went from restricting my food, to binging and
purging. The weight gain made me so ashamed that I isolated myself from my
friends, family and university. Suddenly, I found myself stood on Clifton
Suspension Bridge at two in the morning, daring myself to make the jump. I was
found by some people who worked there, who also called the police and an
ambulance. It was the worst night of my life… and I felt embarrassed that I
made such a scene.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t the wake-up call I needed. A month
or two later, I attempted suicide again. I was lying awake in pain and throwing
up all night, not wanting to call an ambulance. After reaching out to some
friends, I felt so alone because no one wanted to help. I had told them what I
tried to do, but they were too busy to help. A part of me was ready to give up.
But no. This was the final wake-up call. I finally reached out to the mental
health service and started engaging with recovery. I was assigned a
care-coordinator and a psychiatrist and was referred to the eating disorder
service.
About a year ago, I was diagnosed with PTSD. This is
something I’m still coming to terms with. I tried a support group that looked
to educating us about our disorder, but I found it too difficult and quit after
the third session. I’m still not ready to relive the painful memories that still
haunt me.
Recovery
So far, recovery has been a lot of long conversations,
support groups and sitting on waiting lists for therapy. One of the worst
things about recovery is the NHS waiting lists (but I won’t get started on
politics here – I’ll be good). It’s also hard confronting what haunts you and
staring it straight in the face. COVID-19 means that I’ve also missed out on a
lot of therapy and support groups. Overall, it can be summed up by simply
saying this: it’s hard work. One day, I know it’ll get easier. I’ve come so far
already. I’m getting out of bed every day and trying hard to get better. Plus,
I’m eating healthy and I’m still engaging with the mental health services every week.
Writing for this new book I’m a part of, Through the
Hourglass, a mental health anthology that focuses on letters of reflections to our past, present and future selves, has been great because it’s helped me respect my body, to finally
show some love to it. Love that it’s
desperately needed from me for years and years. It was empowering to finally
refuse to hate myself. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t a cure-all. But it was
proof that I can learn to love myself. This book is important because it can
help others come to this realisation. It’ll help them see how far others have
come, and how far they too can move forward. When I was at my worst, when I
didn’t see any way out of what I was going through, I really could have needed
a book like this.
This book is really important to me, as it is the other
writers. This World Mental Health Day let’s keep talking. Let’s help
organisations, the NHS, and books and resources like Through the Hourglass. To find out more and to grab your own copy, click here.
It Gets Better
If you’re struggling, you’re probably tired of hearing this,
but it does get better. I’m living proof that it gets better. From two suicide
attempts and complete isolation, to getting out of bed every day and working
hard. You can do it too, it will happen for you, it just takes a lot of time.
But it’s so worth it. Be honest with your friends and family with how you’re
feeling. Especially be honest with your doctor so they can get you the right
care.
And lastly, don’t just spread mental health awareness on this
one day. We have to look out for each other and be kind to one another every single
day. We need to check up on our friends, not leave them on their own in their
hour of need. And we need to demand better mental health services from the
government, don’t ignore the cuts they’ve made. (Okay, I know I said I wouldn’t
get political, but it’s needed here.)
Stand together, be strong.
Until the next time,
Char.
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