Products of Our Environment

So as the title states – I’m gonna be sharing my own story about my younger life and growing up with a history of mental illness in my family.

Now, I’m not sure whether it’s purely coincidental, whether it’s hereditary or whether being in an environment where mental illness was prevalent was a norm for me as a child and perhaps made me more susceptible to becoming mentally unwell.

Does mental illness flow through my veins, beat in my heart and thrive off my healthy mind?

A woman very dear to me has struggled with inner demons for as long as I can remember. I was about 9 when I first began to notice that something wasn’t quite right. She’d spend days in bed, she wouldn’t eat, she wouldn’t even wash. With hind sight and personal experience I can now see that she was in an incredibly deep rooted depression.

It didn’t last days, or weeks… it lasted years.

I began to notice these traits in myself a number of years ago which was a very scary thing for me. I didn’t want to have a halted life because my mind would throw a fit every once in a while.

I decided to push on through, to finish studying Forensic Science, to get an unconditional offer at the university I wanted to study at – although I dropped out! I’ve worked in the Mental Health field and am now heading into working for the Ministry of Justice.

It’s ok to be abnormal, I wouldn’t have thrived as much if I was never unwell or had never battled with addiction.

If I could meet my 9 year old self, I would tell her that she would be okay. That her mum would win the uphill struggle. I’m now 21 and have almost set myself up for life.

This is the year everything changes!

If Kiwi can cope, so can you!

🙂

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Master of Deception

I’m not gonna bore you with all of the stuff most bloggers will be posting currently… the whole ‘new year, new me’ bullshit. You’re still the same idiot you were a week ago, a month ago, a year ago. You aren’t foolin’ me honey bee!

I want to write an uplifting post for the first time in around half a year – that makes me sound like I’m still a depressive mong doped-up on all kinds of meds from the doctor. “Here’s 5 Cyanide pills just incase one isn’t enough to put your stupid ass to sleep for the rest of eternity” – thanks doc!

In all seriousness though… I’ve really grown the fuck up since last year and even the year before that. I was selfish, manipulative and arrogant… basically a massive arsehole! But a switch flicked inside me and I realised I was a raging douche that needed to sort herself out. During the previous couple of years, I felt sub-human, I felt like I deserved no one’s love or compassion except the black dog that was always barking in my head. 

I found solace in the havoc. The sense of self I was adamant was true, was just a facade, to cover my deluded mind set. 

I was a master of deception.

I had grown so used to putting on an external mask, I convinced myself I was better when really I was just trying to polish a turd. Things were mounting up to the point that it was almost unbearable. I could see the surface of the ocean but had an anchor tied to my ankles.

Last year was a true test of my character. I did many things I never thought I’d have the courage to do.

I rid myself of toxic people, negativity breeds negativity. I worked in a mental health unit as an Auxiliary nurse. I applied and successfully got a job which will set my career path up. I travelled through Europe and visited Auschwitz, the Berlin wall and the Red Light District! And after everything… I forgave my rapist and got the closure I needed to be able to move on.

This year will be full of light, love and positivity!

Trust me, if Kiwi can cope… so can you! 🙂

💚💚💚

Dealing with my BPD

I’ve posted a few times about myself being a borderline sufferer and how it’s impacted on me. After reading through the posts, they all had a very negative outlook on what it’s like to have this illness.

I always wrote about the situations I noticed my BPD worsening in and my reactions – but never how I got over the hurdles it made me face.

Being a borderline isn’t glamorous or fun, to put it bluntly – it’s fucking shit! My borderline still lingers around every day but the way I’ve learnt to cope and work alongside it has changed and I’m now at a place where I can say I can keep it in check.

My BPD is mainly to do with abandonment issues and relationships that fizzle out super quick because I’m just so goddamn bored! Sometimes when my anxiety is bad I start to become delusional. I think the most ludicrous things are real and that life is just a joke.

I remember when it first got really bad, I had watched a documentary about the phone hacking scandal that happened a few years back. I got it into my head that I was being spied on constantly, that people were hacking into my phone, reading my messages and listening to my calls. Although why I thought that the government would be interested in knowing that I wanted my Mumma to pick me up a McDonald’s en route back from shopping – I’ll never know!

I’m glad I can laugh about it now because back then, I was petrified to talk to people. I felt like I had no privacy and it made me feel even more vulnerable.

There is no quick fix when it comes to dealing with BPD. There’s also no set treatment that can make it better for everyone. 

Just nurture yourself and love yourself, BPD feasts on your inner vulnerabilities. The second you start doubting your mind and recovery, it will consume you.

Keep your life free of as much drama as you can. Don’t put unnecessary tension on yourself that could hinder your recovery. 

BPD will always be there, but you don’t have to run away from it forever. Put up two fighting fists and show it what you’re made of!

If Kiwi can cope, so can you.

🙂

Forgiving my rapist

Okay so this is going to be blurted out how I’m thinking it. Today has been the most difficult and incredible day of my entire life so far. For the last few weeks my depression has hit absolute rock bottom, the worst it has been since I was diagnosed 4 years ago.

I never thought about seeking revenge from the person who sexually assaulted me because I was too caught up in my own self blame. I was too busy hurting myself or thinking I had done something wrong.

He seemed far more repairable than how I was left after the situation. No amount of hatred I had or loathing for vengeance would heal my mental scars.

I never once thought I would do what I did today, I never experienced any anger towards this man. Only sympathy, emptiness and guilt. The whole “wrong place, wrong time” saying.

My mind has been replaying these raw emotions in the back of my mind for a few weeks and it really hit the surface only a few days ago. I’d suppressed the memories so much due to how much trauma it caused me at such a young age. I have been barely a shadow of the person I was half a year ago. I’ve not recognised myself recently. 

I decided that the only way I would heal the wounds from what happened was forgiveness.

Today, I forgave my rapist.

I made him aware of the demons I have faced at the hands of what had happened. That my life spiralled out of control after December 24th 2011 at around 10:45pm.

I wanted acknowledgement for what had happened to me so I didn’t feel like I was another rape victim swept under the carpet. I got the apology I so truly deserved.

To many people, an apology would never even begin to heal the amount of suicide attempts, the self injury and the self hatred I had for over half a decade. But to me; it’s enough to move on.

To know I am a strong woman who has dealt with a traumatic experience, speaks reams about how far I have come in this time.

Forgiveness is not going to be everyone’s way to get closure. But it’s finally going to help me heal.

If Kiwi can cope, so can you.