I’ve been writing for almost a week so I thought I’d introduce myself, and tell you my story. I’m keeping my anonymity though as it makes it so much easier to talk about my own mental health.
I was born to two disabled parents who I’ve spent most of my life taking care of, my mother always resented me as I was far from perfect in her eyes, she would lose it and hit me.
Most of my childhood felt like I was living with a bomb that could go off at any time, it created my anxiety, and it flourished. I cannot remember a time that I wasn’t anxious or depressed.
Then in my late teens, I was raped by someone who was meant to be my friend, and I never told a soul. A year later I confided in my boyfriend of the time, who actually told everyone, and I became the girl who cried rape.
Most of my friends believed him, as I never spoke out before then, and I began to spiral. I drank a lot and eventually started taking drugs on nights out. Anything to drown the sound of my demons.
After picking myself up, actually going to university, and curbing my drink problem I met him. The monster I check under my bed for, my abusive ex-boyfriend who makes my mother’s antics look tame.
He was completely charming, handsome, and much smarter than he knew. We loved the same music, sport, and had a great connection. This was all a mirage to his nature, and after cutting ties with my parents we moved in.
He then slowly started to reveal himself to me, he was damaged like me, but he turned into the abuser he so feared. At points, I thought he would kill me, and I began to lose my will to live.
After escaping that relationship I started to spiral again, this time it was bad, as the relationship between me and my mother fractured more. She was hurt that I lived in sin for six months, and she took that shame out on me.
After a month back in at home, I tried to kill myself using a ton of medications that my doctor gave me for panic attacks. My mum walked into my room and caught me before I could do any lasting damage.
My spiral was short lived and would only last to Christmas, at that point taking drugs wasn’t fun anymore, and I knew I couldn’t continue. Then a few months after my drug spiral I met the love of my life.
He’s been here with me ever since, which my anxiety still constantly questions after almost ten years together, and is the only person who has ever understood my mental illness.
Then a friend made up rumours about me, to this day I don’t know what they said but none of my friends spoke to me after that. I then worked through my mental health problems with a psychiatrist and CBT.
A year ago we suffered a miscarriage and all the years of working on my mental health went out the window. I was broken, I still feel broken, but I’m working on it with medicine and a therapist.
It’s constant work, I may never stop reliving my past abuse, but it’s work I would like to do. I take small steps, but I’m trying to celebrate them because I think I deserve it.