This is an anonymous blog post
My story starts when I was 6. The bad bits, I mean.
When I was 6 a friend of my brothers decided to take it upon himself to start molesting me.
For 7 years he helped himself to parts of me that should have remained private. He even tried the same thing with my sister, though thankfully just the once.
It wasn’t long after this started that began a journey that took me (and takes me) so far down I can hardly believe it’s possible.
By the time I was 12 I was regularly overdosing, I was lying constantly to my parents, I started stealing and generally I made life as hard for them as I possibly could.
CAMHS diagnosed me with ‘Emerging’ Borderline Personality Disorder and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
My parents spent years battling various agencies including CAMHS, Social Services, Early Intervention Teams, trying to get me the help I so desperately needed.
But, as is often the way, they let me slip through the cracks and disappear.
They would call it a ‘phase’, ‘normal development’ and more often than not blame it on being brought up in such a strict religion.
Things got progressively worse as I battled with changes happening in my body and as I got worse my school grades followed me down. I went from A’s and B’s to E’s and U’s.
I started hanging around with some unsavoury people and cared very little for myself.
When I was 15, things had gotten so bad with the self-harm that I was put on a 24 hour watch by my parents.
I wasn’t even allowed on the loo by myself as I would take the opportunity to overdose.
A&E visits regularly took 6-9 hours just waiting on the Crisis Team, who never do anything helpful ever.
It is amazing what having no privacy at all will do to you. I ‘escaped’ about 3 months after my 15th birthday. I met up with friends, and walked for what seemed like miles.
I got stupidly lost on the way home and ended up straying further away from home as the light was fading.
Mostly because I am an idiot, I thought my best bet was to get in a strangers car so they could drive me home.
Cutting a long story short I was raped.
Not long after that I discovered I was pregnant.
Given the strict religion I was in, abortion was never an option
I decided to keep the baby and it turns out, that was the turning point for me.
My mental health improved dramatically whilst I was pregnant, I buckled down at school and things were looking good for quite a while.
I gave birth to my princess a week after my 16th birthday, after a natural labour with no pain relief. I got an 8lb 3oz princess to light up my world.
Four weeks after she was born, I sat my GCSE’s and got 1 A*, 1 A, 5 B’s, 6 C’s and a D. Not bad if I do say so myself.
There are no happy endings when it comes to mental health, and I live by the rule that what comes up must come down.
So by the time my baby was 9 months old, I was back to struggling.
They put me on a funny farm for 3 months, and when I came out I was promptly moved into a hostel. I stayed there for a year before moving to another one, where I stayed until I was 18 and got my own place.
My daughter has remained with my parents since then
It makes sense as I am just not well enough to look after her by myself right now.
Fortunately I get to see her whenever I like and talk to her on the phone all the time.
She is 7 now. She is smart, intelligent, funny, and completely bonkers and without doubt the best thing I ever did.
They diagnosed me with new mental health problems all the time it seems, I now have official diagnosis’ of Borderline Personality Disorder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Generalised Anxiety Disorder, Major Depressive Disorder, Dis-associative Identity Disorder and Multiple Personality Disorder.
It was explained to me that all of these are my minds attempts at being able to cope with what happened to me.
My physical health is pretty poor too, which leads to a ridiculous cocktail of drugs.
However, even when I am at my worst I am blessed to have such an amazing child to make me feel better, despite her being the actions of being raped.
I couldn’t be a prouder mum if I tried, and every day I think I simply can’t love her any more than I do, only to wake up the next day and realise I can.
Mental health problems make everything harder. They make each problem worse, and they are a massive pain in the butt.
However they do make you grateful for what you have, they make you savour every single good day you have, and they make you appreciate all that your children are and all that they will become.
And I would rather have that than anything remotely related to ‘normal’!
This is an anonymous blog post. You can share your own experience to help others. All blog posts submitted via the blog anonymously email form will be added to the blog anonymously for you, just like this blog post has been.
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