Mental Health Awareness Month

In light of Mental Health Awareness Month I’ve compiled this blog post. Its kinda difficult to write a post purely about MHAM when your entire blog is about mental health, however, I will try given the cause.
Also this blog post will contain this weeks rant about Dad’s girlfriend since she’s a crazy little stalker to put it politely. But for now; I digress.

MHAM is a month which I struggle with. I feel that a singular month isn’t long enough to completely outline mental health and how it effects people. Its simply not enough to talk about your own experiences and offer support for a month. These issues go on everyday for some people, so why isn’t all this publicity given during any other time of the year?
In order to see the change we want we need to talk about it 365 days a year. We need to share our experiences, we need to offer support. The TV broadcasters need to publicise these links they share this week/month, every single day. That’s how we fight the stigma. By talking about it everyday. Not when society dictates…

 

Part 2.

Crazy stalker.
So Dad’s girlfriend has always had a penchant for watching my every post on social media. Despite being blocked on everything. You see the image they’ve painted to everybody is that I’m a really bad person, when in actual fact one of my abusers still bullies me indirectly through social media. I get stalked and accused when not a single word has been exchanged between us for over 4 years.
I’m slightly hypocritical I have to admit. I watch her twitter. Maybe I shouldn’t, however, I’m only human and for two years her twitter and her facebook were bombarded with childish taunts toward me, knowing I couldn’t see them. She spoke about me to all her friends, and to my own family, referring to me as ‘fart face’. Googling my name. Dragging my name through the mud. For two years. No contact. Not a single tweet about her, not a single facebook post about her. All this bullying was completely unprovoked, yet she’d still been watching my every move, like the creepy little stalker she is.
So now we’re at the point where I watch her twitter, because I’m human and paranoia overtakes all morality. And she still tweets about me to her weird little cronies then tells them all I’m a psycho for retaliating. Because of course I’m a bad person. She watches my instagram and then creates issues for my younger brother accusing him of having seen me recently because I posted an old photo of us. Yet I’m still the bad person.
As you can see I’m an evil psychopath like she says.

Anybody who reads this and has some constructive advice on what to do about Little Miss Stalker: I’d really appreciate it!

Laura x

NamestΓ©

I’ve never been one to believe in deities. The concept to me seems somewhat baffling. I mean imagine having a single “super-being” if you will that has complete control of the universe, its creation, its plants, its cultures, its whole entirety, and the people in it and their behaviours. How could one person manage all of that single-handedly? Super-being or not, its impossible. Perhaps I’ll offend a few people with my views but just because these are my beliefs doesn’t mean to say I disagree with other people’s beliefs, I respect everybody’s view.

With that said, I’d never been exposed to the idea that perhaps we are our own “God” (generically speaking, his/her name does not matter). Within each of us lies our own God. This is something that from the moment it was proposed I’ve felt a sense of clarity about. The concept being as follows;
We are all our own God. Whilst our bodies remain firmly grounded our hearts and souls are free and wild God’s.
Most who seek comfort from a deity pray, they pray to the universe, to their God, to somebody or something. They pray for change in their life, or the world, which the deity controls. But perhaps prayer is being practised all wrong. Perhaps prayer is meant to open up our inner voice and therefore our inner God. We cannot change the world. We cannot change our circumstance. But we can pray to our inner God to find the strength we already had within to continue. We can pray to inner God to find a way which we already knew to work toward what we want.
You see since hearing about this belief, its became so clear. We needn’t ask a deity for things but ask ourselves for guidance in ways we already knew but were too distracted to find in ourselves.

Finally a belief which provides my life with some clarity.

NamastΓ© – (nah-mas-tay) – My soul honours your soul. I honour the place in you where the entire universe resides. I honour the light, love, truth, beauty & peace within you because it is also within me. In sharing these things we’re united, we are the the same, we are one.

Dear Daddy;

Dear Daddy;

Do you remember when I called you that? Daddy. When I was just so little and fragile, full of innocence and in need of protection from the one man a girl can count on: her Daddy.
What did you see? Did you see? A little girl? Your daughter? Someone in need of protection and guidance? Or just another drain on society? Another woman in the way of your ideal world?
See I don’t ask to be rude, or unforgiving. I don’t ask to hurt you. I ask because I don’t understand. It wasn’t just me who you saw as nothing but a problem. My mother was just a problem. Your sister was just a problem. Your girlfriend is just a problem. And I know the deep-seeded reasons for this, I know the only woman worth something on this planet was your Nana. But surely; a daughter, a little piece of yourself, could break that cycle?

Remember when I was about 7/8? I’d wrote you a letter. In this letter I poured my heart out, asking why you didn’t have the money to take your children out, but had so much money to take this new girlfriend out? What was it you told me? Your children would always come first.
So tell me Daddy, why did you prioritise your girlfriend over your children? Why could you take her out and not your children? Why could you beat your daughter instead of standing up to her? Why did you allow both your children to ostracise themselves from the family so they didn’t have to be bullied by your girlfriend?
Was it because unless a woman is serving her purpose and providing you with sex, she isn’t important? Because I served no purpose to you, I was just a burden to you?

Remember when I was learning to ride a bike, learning to walk, to talk, being potty trained? Remember these times? I was too young too remember but I don’t remember you being around much.
Was it to provide for the family you cared so deeply about? Or was it just because you couldn’t bare to be around me?
Perhaps you and Mum broke up because she served no purpose now she wasn’t providing you with sex.

Remember when you first met your girlfriend and she was so young and impressionable? Remember how you mollycoddled her into a woman hating, racist, female version of yourself?
Is that the only reason things have lasted so long? Because I notice that when she formulates her own opinions that’s when you find her a problem, but she’s still serving her purpose.

 

See Daddy, I wonder everyday if I ever had a chance of being loved by you, but as I grow older I see the bigger picture. I see how you follow in your Mother’s footsteps. I never met her, but you were the one child who didn’t live with her. And from what I was told you didn’t like her partner(s).
The difference between you and I Daddy, is that I will learn from the way both you and Mum failed me. I will never follow in your footsteps. Yet the one thing that turned you into the woman-hating misogynist you are, you did to your daughter. Isn’t irony funny. Everyday is plagued with questions about what I did so wrong, but I realise more and more each day, I did nothing wrong. I never stood a chance.
I lash out at your girlfriend, and I say hurtful things, but the truth is I respect her more than I respect you Daddy dearest. See she doesn’t see that standing by a violent abuser is a sin in itself. She doesn’t see the way you hate all women. She’s naive and young, and moulded into another you. But before you made your mark she was so kind. I don’t hate her. I hate the things she says and does/did. But I don’t blame her. I blame you. And at least she has the decency to speak out and defend herself, whereas you sit back, lurking in the shadows, with so little to say because you know Daddy. You know what you did was evil yet you can’t bring yourself to even apologise…

Daddy? What Daddy? My Daddy failed me, and showed me that most men aren’t dependable. My Daddy is evil. My Daddy isn’t a dad, daddy, or a father. My Daddy, is just a face in a picture keeping up with the facade he began years ago, that he is a respectable man. No respectable man throws their daughter around the room, covering her in bruises. No respectable man headbutts his daughter. No respectable man punches his daughter. No respectable man breaks his daughter. No respectable man bullies his daughter. No respectable man tells his daughter she is a psycho like her late mother. No respectable man tells his daughter to kill herself. An evil man does.

Goodbye “Daddy”. You’re just a face in a photograph.

13

This isn’t one of my usual blog posts, however, as a mental health advocate I wanted to take the time to talk a little about 13 reasons why?
For those of you who haven’t yet heard of it, a) you should totally get netflix, and b) its about a 17 year old girl; Hannah Baker, who commits suicide and rather than leaving a note she leaves tapes. There are 13 sides which explain the 13 reasons why, all of which were sent to each person on the list.

So here’s 13 reasons why I found it flawed… Just kidding I couldn’t think of 13 but that would have been quite witty. But, whilst I enjoyed watching it, and I truly commend Netflix for this truthful, raw series, there are certain parts I really don’t like.
For example; notice how on the tapes Hannah is so hurt by the way these people hurt her? I feel for Hannah, but is it not a little hypocritical that she didn’t like the fact her peers had judged her for what they had heard, yet she judged the tall school journalist (I didn’t remember his name), she doesn’t even give him a chance to talk before she gives him the cold shoulder?
What about Clay? His biggest crime was not telling her that he loved her. But, again, hypocrisy because when did Hannah tell Clay she loved him? In fact she completely pushed him away. I understand the typical signs that someone is hurting, but what about before things went so wrong? She is as guilty as him, yet again.
There’s then the fact that actually, by sending out these tapes in a way that would mentally torture those they were sent to, she is being a hypocrite. She was tortured mentally by the emotions they caused without realising yet here she intentionally sets out to do the same? And the one person who deserved it; Bryce, didn’t receive a single tape.
The whole point that Hannah is trying to make with these tapes is that although it may seem like nothing to you, what you say and do can really effect a person, and the beautiful irony is, that for someone who understood that so well, she was most guilty…

 

Until next time;
Laura x

Why ME?

Do you ever just get really p****d off that your life is in no way the way you’d intended it to be?
I took a bit of time off from the blogging purely due to being preoccupied, and for a while I just haven’t known where to begin in terms of returning to posting. However, I guess now is as good of time as any because this all comes from my current mood. Resentment. Angst. And envy.

So I ask again; do you ever just get really p****d of that your life is in no way you intended it to be?
Now I’m not saying my life is bad, because its not. I have a roof over my head, food in my belly and money in my pocket. But that doesn’t stop me thinking ‘This isn’t what I had planned.’ when I’m feeling down.
Rewind back to when I was 15. Things were so rubbish at home, GF (Dad’s girlfriend) ostracised me from my own family, and it was meant to destroy me, sure, it hurt sometimes, but the truth is I’m so much happier alone. So to me, it was rubbish that I was watching my Dad drift away from me more and more, but I didn’t feel at a loss. I was still full of hope, and ambition. I wanted so much from life, and it seemed so much simpler back then. By this point I wanted to move out by the time I was 16 so my short-term goals were never really effected, but long-term I wanted a job that required a university degree (a doctor or whatever was my ‘passion’ for the week), that would pay well, and I would save up for a nice house (nothing swanky but a family home like we had when we were kids), I’d get a retail job in the meantime to pay for my lessons and a car so I’d be driving by the time I went to Sixth Form… The world was my oyster…

Nowadays, I sit back and I wonder; ‘Where did those hopes and dreams go? Where did my ambition and zest for life go?’. I’m a firm believer in “being the change you want to see in the world” (or in this case in your life), so if your life is lacking something, go and get it. I apply it to my life whenever I can. The question is, how do you do that when your chances are slowly slipping through your fingers?Β I want to retake my GCSE’s, get A-Levels, go to University, become a GP… I have dreams. The trouble is that’s all they are, dreams. How do you achieve these things when you have such debilitating anxiety you can’t even go to the bin shed? There’s distance learning, but then you’re completely independent so how does one fund these courses? There’s loans from the job centre to help you develop more prospects, but then they don’t fund for distance learning so? You can’t go to college, you can barely leave the front door. So tell me; where do you go from here? You can wait… But these courses in total take over 10 years, and I’m almost 20. My recovery could take years, and in these years I could be proactive but…
There’s always a ‘but’.
I never believed in ‘but’. You guessed it; but there are so many legitimate ‘buts’ that life sets us, especially when it comes to mental health. You can get stuck in an endless cycle of ‘buts’ and inevitably not get to where you want to be. I feel so disappointed in myself when I think of these things, but I forgive myself, because were it not for my abusers, I wouldn’t be in this situation, which in turn leads to envy, and resentment. Not toward them (because their lives are a pitiful waste) but toward the people I went to school with. They’ve done nothing wrong, I know. I feel such jealousy toward them though. I see them all working toward their happily ever after, and doing so well, yet I don’t want to congratulate them. I want to grab them, and shake them, and scream at them. Why do they get their happily ever afters when I’m the one who’s had to endure nothing but s**t all my life. Where’s the God, Jesus, Allah, Vishnu, Ganesha, Buddha, whoever you believe in that decides that although I’ve had a s**t life, I only deserve more s**t?

I’m just tired. I’m tired of ‘buts’. I’m tired of having to fight every damn day of my life. I’m tired of watching others skate through life as if its easy. I’m tired of my life being a constant reminder of my past. I left the abuse. But the repercussions will never leave me. Perhaps I shouldn’t write this since GF reads it against my will, but let me get this straight, my life is great, I’m happy and humble, but you destroyed a life. I hope that keeps you awake at night knowing that whilst you complete umpteen ICS and OU courses for no purpose because you’ve no intention of ever lifting a finger, you stopped someone from having a chance. That’s evil.

Scheuermann’s Disease, Please?

I must warn you from the get go, this contains a HIGHLY GRAPHIC IMAGE, from a surgical operation. Reader beware.
So most of you probably don’t even know what Scheuermann’s Disease (or Scheuermann’s Kyphosis) is, right? Don’t worry, I didn’t until I got diagnosed. In the most politically incorrect way possible, it’s the medical way to describe a hunch back caused by the vertebrae being wedge shaped. Now, don’t ever refers to it has a hunchback, because it’s the one term all sufferers will tell you, we HATE! But it’s the easiest way to describe fit without sounding like I have a PHD in orthopaedics. Now, you can also get a postural kyphosis, so it’s best to know the difference. When someone with Scheuermann’s bends over, the curvature in the spine worsens, whereas someone with postural kyphosis can stand up straight if they try, and it lessens when bending. Treatment for postural kyphosis will only ever consist of physio or a back brace whereas Scheuermann’s Kyphosis can be treated with physio or a back brace if 1) it’s caught early enough 2) is less that a 75-80 degree angle. Anything larger than an 80 degree angle, or in adult cases causing pain, the next option is spinal fusion. So with the science lesson out of the way, I’ll explain my experience with this condition.

I first started noticed it back in High School, I never had very good social skills (EUPD at its early stages) and whenever girls wanted to kick off on me, or the boys just wanted to taunt me the usual insult flung my way was “hunchback this” and “hunchback that”. It made it kind of hard to ignore. I found myself wearing hoodies even in the hottest of weather, PE I shyed away, especially during swimming. It all stemmed from the bullying, which scarred me for life and effected how I’ve lived the rest of my life so far. Nights out? Ha no. Family day at the swimming baths? Ha no. Go on holiday with the girls? Ha no. Sex life? Ha no. All because the fear of anybody calling me a hunchback again just wouldn’t leave. Even the people I’m most comfortable around, I don’t like them seeing it. Something that seems so minute actually played a massive part in my life.

Once I’d finally got a flat on my own, and a sense of stability, I felt I was in a position to explore surgery because I actually had a stable home to go to. The curvature in my spine is at a 90 degree angle, with large curvature in both the thoracic (upper) spine (kyphosis), and lumbar (lower) spine (lordotic), along with slight scoliosis (s shape in spine). This was found in x-Ray’s, then an MRI. My surgeon and I discussed what I would like to do, we went through the serious risks, including paralysis, chronic pain worse than it already is, nerve damage etc, as well as the potential positives. I came to the decision that this curse has had a hold of me for far too long, I want a summer in vest tops, and to go swimming with my foster Mum and her baby, what’s life if you’re watching from the sidelines?!

We followed with some X-rays of my spine being extended to see how effective the surgery will be, and I was told I had to do a minimum of 3 months nicotine free as this increased the success rate from 40-60% to 75-95%. We agreed I’d keep coming in for X-rays until I’m nicotine free (I’m currently on an ecig, cutting down) to see if my condition worsens. So that’s where we’re at so far, but he advised I do my own research to ensure I was 100% sure with my decision.

I, of course, did as as I was told. I mean, this an 8-12 hour surgery, it’s not something to take lightly. And that’s where this all-be-it sudden post has come from, I’ve spent all night doing my own research, and inside from a few short blogs on YouTube from years ago,  there is actually so little about what you’re about to go through. I was hoping to find blog upon blog about people’s in depth journeys both physically and emotionally, but there’s nothing, especially not from adults. I honestly couldn’t believe it! So the post is one of many about what this journey truly consists of,for those looking for someone’s experience through it all. And with that said, I’m going put this into perspective, the following picture is what happens  in the corrective surgery.

If it doesn’t scare you, you’re inhuman. Of course it will have you terrified but the question is, are you willing to face that fear head on, in order to correct this condition? Ask yourself that before you commit to anything.
Until next time:

Laura x

Β Today We Rant

I apologise for the delay, this post is a little late. I had a bit of rough two weeks, so I thought today I would side-track from my back story in order to deliver a quick rant to you all; enjoy.

CW: anxiety/panic attacks.

I’ve had some issues with my very own ‘nightmare neighbour’. I have literally not slept very well for a month, which for an insomniac is hellish. The non-stop partying, and influx of new men every night whilst she housed a 16 year old girl was frankly: disturbing. Every single night, for a month,  I’ve been subjected to what sounded like college ‘frat’ girls making amateur porn. I tried every angle to get them to quieten down in the end, I tried to be their friend, I tried to tell them off like children, I then lodged a complaint with my housing association and environmental health… Nothing had even the slightest effect on them. It got to the point where I was having anxiety attacks every night. I was having rage blackouts every night. I wasn’t coping. So other than going up and assaulting them, the only option was to call the police and beg them to come out and speak to them. Around ten calls later, they still didn’t stop. I finally came up with the idea to refer the young girl to social services, I mean, what she was doin was hardly safe, right? Social came, and she wet home at long last. Only now my neighbour has found new lodgers… Luckily they’re more tolerable than the child, but the issue is ongoing. It’s had such an effect on my mental health, that I’m now in the process of trying to move. I mean, it’s not just that, it’s an accumulation of things. Not only do I have a nightmare neighbour, my property is old, it uses storage heaters (which haven’t worked for 3 months) which they now want to replace with central heating. Great, I hear you say? Well it would be if they weren’t putting the boiler in my bedroom. I have such an issue with sleeping, the last thing I want in my bedroom is a boiler. Then they want to replace the outdated, nicotine stained kitchen. Great, I hear you say? Well it would be if my anxiety wasn’t so horrifically triggered by the thought of people coming in and out of my property, touching my things. It’s a block of flats, so I struggle to even take the bin out because, when does an agoraphobic person want to socialie with random people? It’s just got to the point now where, all the cons outweigh any of the pros. So it’s safe to say I’ve not been in the best of places emotionally.

We then have the evil stepmother, at her finest. As said previously, I haven’t spoke to this woman in 3 years. I made a brand new Twitter, in no way associated with her Twitter, specifically for mental health advocacy and my blog. She somehow found my new Twitter. I only know this because she has then proceeded to read my blog, leaving a comment on “the evil stepmother”, using the name ‘Laura’. The comment read and I quote “truthon Twitter @lj_daniels18”. So let me just explain. The most recent tweet(s) on this account is a thread about her. I was fuelled with rage because as per usual she’s been posting indirect posts about me publicly on Facebook. Her favourite posts usually infer I am a narcissist and a sociopath. The image read along the lines of “Narcissits have no emotion blah blah fucking blah”. Of course that is highly amusing to me given the nature of EUPD is extreme mood intensity! But I also felt intense anger. This woman claims she is an empath, and wants to fight the stigma of mental health, yet belittles my disorder and just says I’m a sociopath. Who, in their right mind, can sit and speak out about mental health, yet have no willingness to understand my disorder? You don’t have to like me, but I have never once claimed you’re anything bad because of the disorders you have. I  admit, I feel she is a narcissist herself (more shall follow) but not because of her misophonia, or her anxiety etc. I will never belittle her for her mental health. I went on to rant about how she believes she’s really hard done by, and the world owes her something when it doesn’t, and she can’t call herself an empath whe she will support everyone’s struggle but mine. Her attempt to “expose” me as this really evil person (like I mentioned in the previous post) didn’t work because I know what I said and I know why.  Now however, (and here’s why I feel she is a narcissist) she’s posting certain posts publicly claiming “Narcissists will always think your posts about them”. But only certain posts are public. The only public posts are the ones referring to me as a sociopath, or evil, or as her abuser. Of course, I’m the crazy paranoid one, it’s not so blatantly obvious these posts are aimed at me. She hasn’t had a friend outside of her computer since she was I high school, no-one else has even had a chance to “abuse” her. But yet again, it’s all more proof I’m not evil, and more justification for why I feel the way I do.

All I can say on the matter though, is, I’ll never be brought down by people like this. I have my own flat, friends, family, a great foster Mum, lovely things and a steady income. I do well at providing for myself with no support from my family. I’m independent, and I’m only 19. Which is more than the person dragging me down can say.
Until next time;

Laura x