If it was only a dream

If it was only a dream

***This piece contains sensitive topics and may be triggering for some readers***

Beneath the surface of my eating disorder over the many years, it stuffed a lot of crap so far down beneath surface level it's ridiculous. I am learning many things about my mental health and my family history of mental illness. Including some of my inner issues growing up and personal mental illnesses I wasn't aware of. These psychiatric illnesses that have been masked by my ed. 

In my head for years I was convinced that if my eating disorder was gone, less prominent or less intense that all my issues would no longer exist. Much to my dismay, I am learning that my reality couldn't be further from it. I believed that no eating disorder would let me live whatever kind of life I imagined. That I would be free of the struggles I had been living with for many years. But as I have slowly been regaining a lot more freedom from my eating disorder, I am now hit with the reality of a full bucket. A bucket that has been pushed down, suppressed and these undiagnosed psychiatric illnesses for all these years and probably majority of my life. Dealing with this and trying to understand it all has been huge and still is a lot for me to try and comprehend and understand. Quite often I'm very confused about what's going on inside my mind, and lack clarity, precise answers and diagnosis of my psychiatric health concerns me. Filling me with anxiety. 

I have quite the list of current diagnoses already. I know some people are very anti diagnosis. Which I respect. But for me, a diagnosis gives me some of the answers to all the questions and concerns I have. That finally I have an or answers to. I had a discussion with a professional about maybe roughly five years ago. Where we discussed that Bipolar Disorder is relevant to me. This didn't surprise me, to be honest it gave some clarity about why I go through the extreme mood and thought shifts I do. 

I recently started with my seventh psychiatrist, which when I put it into black and white words I am awakened to the reality that that's quite a lot and no wonder my diagnosis and medications are all over the place.  When I began coming to a new psychiatric hospital here in Victoria last year, I was made aware that I am on a lot of medication per day and many different types of medication. The psychiatrist's here and the nursing staff have been questioning why I have such a cocktail of medications. 

I am currently in hospital, but as a general patient. My original goal of this voluntary admission was to put my safety as a priority. I have been battling in what relates to a depressive episode for the last month or two now with mixed features. In this I have been in and out of suicidal thoughts and plans. Out of this head space I knew that whilst my dad and step mum where interstate being home was not a good or safe plan. So whilst I was in a low suicidal mind frame, I rang the intake at the hospital and hoped that they would have a bed for me. Luckily they did and I was admitted a day later. 

I once was afraid and filled with fear about a day where I'd no longer wanted to be alive. I remember sitting in the car after a psychology appointment with a dear friend of mine. And I sat there trying to explain to her about my greatest fear "what if one day I end up wanting to die" and "what happens if things only get worse from here"? And as the years have gone by that fear has become my biggest nightmare and my scariest reality. I live with episodes of depression and suicidal ideation, two things that turn my whole world upside down again and again. It's like someone else is inside my head and has pushed Hannah out of the driving seat, kidnapped her and has taken the pilot's seat of the plane. And the reality is, it has been taking over my life more and more intensely. Inside my mind I often feel like I am drowning, and gasping for air as the thoughts flood me from head to toe.  

I am literally a mess and I cry so much of the time during specific parts of this rollercoaster. I find myself hyperventilating, and then struggling for air to the point I begin having coughing attacks and dry reaching. I can get so caught up in my thoughts that I struggle to contain them in my head. I either lay huddled up in a tight ball under a blanket, sobbing my eyes out or relaying it all to my step mum. My words coming out rapidly and to her not making much sense at all. To be honest I think that it makes sense, but really it's a giant jumble of racing thoughts, emotions sky high usually on the distressed side of things.

Sometimes, lay up in my bed. Or my bedroom or bathroom floor. Too afraid to ask for help. The overwhelming thought of being a burden again and again races around inside my head. So I struggle alone and attempt to hide my battle and struggle. Some nights I just go straight to bed post dinner if I even can do dinner and I bawl my eyes out, crying myself to sleep. Other times, I am in my step mum's lap going through these motions and exact experiences. I get stuck with my paranoid thoughts, these that consume me. I believe that I am being left to struggle and be in distress alone. That I am too much for my family to handle. I believe that I am a burden and that my family especially would be better off without me. I intensely believe that things are happening to me, that I'm being punished and that the people around me are against me and leaving me to suffer. I become that other version of Hannah. A version of myself, I can;t control. A version that when I come back into the real world, I remember most of what has happened or what I've been going through. But it's like a dream or more of a bad nightmare. Remembering the person I become, the horrible thoughts I had and the way I behaved. 

Other times, I get so mad at myself. Because I get upset about the smallest and the most insignificant things. But in the very moment those things are in fact not small at all to me. Inside my head they are real, big and are loud. I hate some of the things I think and feel at times. Because I really don't mean any of it. I hate that I push those closest to me and the people I love so dearly away. Pushing people away is like autopilot inside my mind. I find myself hearing phrases inside my head that were said to me as a young child. Which still fuel me. Fueling my mind with satisfaction, as it drags me further down into it's dark hole. It makes being close to others difficult, it makes me feel so detached from the ones around me. I feel so disconnected, so deeply alone. Which is sometimes the problem is me isolating myself because of what the voices inside my head are telling me. I began to feel that intense and overwhelming feeling of being a burden on my family again and again. I am convinced that people hate me and deliberately trying to hurt me. I believe that they would be better off without me, that their lives would be easier and happier without me in it. At times, that leaves me writing suicide notes and considering taking my life. As the suicidal thoughts consume me right to my very core. 

I feel like I lose control of my own mind pretty much everyday, where the paranoia or the anxiety as two examples take over me completely. I lose touch with reality, the real world and I become a different person. I don't realise it in the moment I am in it and going through this intense time. But once I re-enter the 'real world' and 'come back' so to speak I am embarrassed, shameful and feel guilty. I apologise multiple times to the person who experienced it with me or who coped my latest freak out. I don't know what else to call it. It scares me, it confuses me everytime time and time again when it happens. 

I often read too deeply into one's body language or the tone in one's voice. I immediately feel guilty and come to the conclusion that I have done something wrong, that it is my fault. I become rattled and consumed by my thoughts. I over analyze every single detail of whatever the situation may be and think worst case scenario pretty much everytime. Anxiety riddles me, to the point where it affects my ability to function and interferes with my relationships, socialising, interaction with others , everyday activities in or outside the house and partaking in things I enjoy. Like going to a 

My mind convinces me that I am too much and that I am too messed up for them to handle. I worry constantly about the effects my illnesses have on my friends and my family. I hate draining them, consuming their lives and adding extra pressure or stress on them. Recently, when I was in quite a state and with my racing thoughts and high emotions. I considered if I shouldn't be at home. That maybe I should be back in hospital, where I can have professional help, support and better safety for myself. I thought about maybe needing to re-apply for the NDIS so I could apply for supported accommodation. 

I am so lucky to have such a supportive family at home; my step-mum, my dad and my step-sister. Outside of home I am lucky also to have a sister and a best friend who stick around and ride the ride with me. 

Some moments, I really am convinced that I want to die. That I don't want to do this anymore. That I am done, over it and had enough. I am tired of feeling like I am constantly drowning, feeling at war with my own mind and body and merely just surviving this thing called life. I feel disappointed and let down and abandoned by all those people that told me to keep fighting, to hold on and that life beyond your eating disorder is so worth it. i feel like I've been lied to for years. I have fought so hard to regain so many elements of life moving away from my eating disorder and I think I was brainwashed to believe that if the element of the eating disorder was no longer there, or not there as loudly as it once was than my life would be so much happier, fuller, lighter and better. But right now that wouldn't be any further from the reality of the shit show my life feels like it is at. I want to die. 

'I want to die' comes to the front of my mind again and again. I believe that my family would be better off without me, without me in their lives. I feel like a burden a lot of the time. I worry about the anxiety and stress I may or may not cause them. I worry that I am mucking up their lives. I fear tearing my family apart, and tearing each member of them apart from themselves. 

I feel more alone than I ever have. Despite the fact I am surrounded by more love and support than I ever had. But yet I still can't get it or keep it together. I feel like I'm at war with everyone and that I am so angry with the world right now. And most of all so angry with myself. I feel out of control of my mind, my thoughts and my emotions. The paranoia spirals me out of control. It convinces me that I am the blame for every small or big struggle in the lives of those around me. Anything that is out of the ordinary or not to the original plan sends me down a downward road. I fear the worst, when I don't know where my family or if they don't update me on their changed movements. I seem to schedule my life around my family's movements. Like well if my family members are at work I can do x, y, z but if they are home I can't make other plans etc. I feel abandoned then if they leave the house without me. Which is a ridiculous thought when I'm in a clear headspace. In those acute moments it couldn't be more real to me. 

I take upon the emotions of others, and drown myself in guilt that I have done something wrong. That whatever it is, I have done or said something wrong. My head is like the oz lotto balls in the dome, spinning round and around. My thoughts run rapidly, that I am unable to concentrate or distract myself. I am trapped inside my own mind. Spiraling out of control. Becoming more and more distressed and checked out from the reality of the present moment.  I am then given more antipsychotic medication to help me, despite me hesitant to take it because of the side effects that terrify me and I struggle to deal with. I surrender, and I allow the nurses to give the tablets. Because let's face it in these moments (which I have a lot whether I'm in hospital or not) making decisions and the right or best informed decisions I am usually not the best at making for myself at these particular times. I'm having to learn how to trust them, and try talk myself into believing that they are in fact trying to help me and not trying to work against me. Which in the moment, sometimes I feel so misunderstood. 

I grow to hate myself and my entire existence more and more. As I either sit in distress by myself, or crying in one's lap or even on the base of the shower floor. I contemplate suicide over and over again. I become detached from the real world, and I believe and feel that everyone around me would be far better off without me here in it. I feel like I'm not good enough. I believe I am unlovable despite knowing that in black and white fact that I am indeed loved. But my thoughts claw their way into my veins. Eating me alive. I collapse onto my bedroom floor, gasping for air as I hyperventilate. I lay hunched over my knees sobbing and coughing after the panic attack passes. I write the goodbye letters, wanting it all to be over. I'm overwhelmed to the extremity that I don't want to do this anymore or to go through any of this time and time again. There's a part of me that inside my mind that says "I am done" and " I feel like I'm trapped in a nightmare". However something inside me saves me from attempting to take my life. I am often asked "what stopped you from doing it" and I don't really know why. I wouldn't always believe it in the acute moments but I am actually so lucky for whatever it is that keeps me fighting and surviving another day.

"You are a warrior, in the dark forest with no compass. And unable to tell who the actually enemy is".  

"You are resilient and you try again. You've suffered so deeply so much of the time. But you push on, searching for hope, love and compassion".  

Even though hope for the future seems lost a lot of the time. And fighting the demons inside your head feels pointless. That your tired of; battling, struggling, fighting to survive for a future that seems so far away. But know, even if you have lost hope for yourself. Someone out there is praying for you, even if you don't know who or where they are. 

You most likely feel so broken from head to toe. And question the point to all this majority of the time as I ask this very question " I was underweight and dying to anorexia. I'm still doing the therapy (more and more of it), doing the hard work, the inpatient hospitalizations, the programs and taking the medication. I am fighting to make a life for myself, waking up each morning and choosing to fight again and again.  But as my psychiatric illness peakend to the top of the mountain. More than ever I feel so much more flipping messed up, irreparable and at risk of still dying. So I ask the big question, of why and what's the point of all of this? But despite these dark moments that debilitate me, I continue to fight. The severity and intensity will slowly lessen and because I also know these really dark moments do pass. So please, don't give into those dark voices inside your head. Ask and reach out for help. Which I know is hard and you wonder well what's the point what are they going to do. I've been there. I do get it.   I took me hours to dial the number of Lifeline and the local CAT team and also not immediately hang up on the first ring. Whether it's calling a hotline number, or a friend. Or reaching out to someone you trust. Reaching out for help is so critical and important. Once I learnt to not bottle my struggling up all on the inside all of the time, I learnt that help is not a sign of weakness or failure.  It taught me the power of using my voice, instead of inflicting harm on myself. Your voice is powerful, it has every right and it should be heard. Help is out there in some form, even when you feel completely alone. Write a list of your go to's. Who you'd call for what situations you may find yourself in whether it's good or bad. 

Connecting with a team of professionals, (well with me finally sticking around long enough with the same one's for long enough to help me ) has been one of the best things I've done. I remember how lost I used to be. How hard fighting all alone was; with no family, no friends and no professional help. Establishing a solid foundation, has been one of the best thing's for me. It's one of the biggest reasons I am still here today to share my story and my ongoing work in my work in progress journey. 

I am safe, 

I am being looked after,

I am holding onto the hope for me wherever the hope is in this universe

Kindly telling myself that I've got this and so do you!

All my love, 

Han

References:

Self-Regulation Project *Award winning short film (Possible Trigger) May 18, 2016  I am Boarderline