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!
These helpless scars that haunt my flesh, remind me of thin-skinned days.
When words and thoughts cut far deeper than any blade.
Each cut, each scratch, each bite mark, leaving it’s own vicious story behind.
Fathoming the disarray isn’t so easy right now, with a hurricane causing havoc in my mind.
Dysphoria screams down the empty, corrupt pathways of my brain.
My eyes have glazed over, I’m forever mistaken for a china doll. Skin so delicate, so porcelain.
My skin is like a tiger’s, bold and bright.
Each cut, each scratch, each bite mark, showing that I fought the fight.
So let me show you this, listen to me roar.
I fell victim to my mind once, but not anymore.
Scars come and go like trains to a station.
But at somepoint they stop, so please be patient.
The past won’t ever change, so why wistfully wish.
You could be a newly growing wild flower that does nothing but flourish.
A few years ago I knew a girl who was the friendliest person on this earth. She could put a smile on my face and the faces of everyone she’d met. She didn’t have a single care in the world and she was a very happy go lucky person.
She would always help me think rationally about my problems and tell me that things would get better in time. I always wondered how she managed to keep so positive when most people who spoke to her would try to bring her down. I admired her so much.
I lost contact with her a while ago which is quite sad because I knew her inside out. She never had a bad word to say about anyone, she didn’t judge people negatively and always had positive things to say.
She would hit a crisis and would know exactly how to deal with it, she would try to be the peace keeper through any disagreements people she knew had.
That girl was me.
Times have changed and I’ve grown in weird ways, I can’t rationally think about my problems anymore – I always assume the worst. I don’t trust anyone as much as I used to. I still don’t know how I managed to be the one who kept everyone’s heads floating above the water when I was drowning trying to do that.
It’s okay though.
We all change at somepoint, sometimes in ways we wish we hadn’t. But these changes always better us in the future.
It’s okay to be sad sometimes.
It’s okay to not know how to fix the world’s problems.
It’s okay to make mistakes.
It’s what you do after all of these that is the main thing.
If Kiwi can cope, so can you.