Life is an interesting game of swings, roundabouts and most importantly see saws. This is especially true when you suffer with mental health issues. One second you can be breezing along on the top of that see saw without a care in the world, the next you’re slammed to the ground and in my case in bed wanting the world to end and nothing anyone can say can take away the crushing pit of despair inside you.
This doesn’t have very much to do with money, or thrift but a lot to do with where I am right now. It is a ramble about something many people don’t talk about, something many people are scared to talk about. Actually in regards to money, if it wasn’t for the tax payers of this country and the NHS I wouldn’t be here – I’d have been over the edge and packed up in my coffin many, many years ago. For all the faults the NHS has – especially with regards mental health – I will forever be thankful for a health service which is free at the point of use because when you suffer with bi polar you never know when you’ll next need to avail the NHS of its services. They are good folk, they’ve mended me many a time.
I wish more people would talk about this and other mental health issues more often. I wish people would see I’m not some crazy odd ball because I suffer with this illness. For a long time I’ve found myself scared to talk to anyone about this pain in the arse, complicated bastard of an illness but I always wound up getting scared that people will laugh at me. I shouldn’t feel like that, no one should. It shouldn’t be a seedy, dirty little secret.
This happens to a lot of people, 1 in 100 people in Britain apparently suffer from bi polar disorder and 1 in 4 people will suffer from a mental illness at some point in their life. So why are we looked down upon, why do people talk about mental illness in inverted commas? Why is it okay to snigger at those with mental health issues in an age where is (thankfully) very much frowned upon to make fun of the physically disabled? When will society catch up?
This past week, I’ve thought about taking my life. A lot. It isn’t the first time I’ve felt that way. It isn’t due to a marital problem, a work problem, a blog problem, a friendship problem or anything like that. It is just an overwhelming urge to shut off life. I’ve cried for days on end, sat in bed, stared at blank walls, gone on spending sprees, washed myself obsessively, neglected to eat, drank a lot and hated my existance. And then I nearly ended it…but obviously I didn’t. In some ways I regret not doing it, I regret not taking away the endless bitter hatred of myself and the hours, days, months, years of staring at a blank wall sobbing my heart out. Another part of me is glad I didn’t but mostly because I love my husband more than the thought of no longer exsisting.
If you have feelings and thoughts like mine or if you’re worried in any way about your mental health please, please, please visit your GP. You may hear horror stories but for the most part they are willing to help and they have picked me up and put me back together when times have been a lot worse than now. I cannot thank the NHS enough.
I don’t want to be at the bottom of the see saw, or even the top. I don’t even want to be balanced out and in the middle, I want to be far, far away from the see saw on a nice bench – maybe with a Crunchie. However the deal I’ve been dealt is see saw land and for now I’ll just take not falling off.
Thank you for reading my ramble.