Mental As….Sonja

I’ve sat down to write this a few times now, and deleted it over and over again.

It’s Mental Health Week in Australia – or month if you live in NSW. Obviously, this is a topic close to my heart. I believe that more people need to speak up about it, so that there can be greater understanding in the wider community that having a brain that is sick is no different, really, than have a body that is unwell.

The problem lies here: I want to write an uplifting post. I want to say that it all gets so much better and therapy and medication really help and there is an end in sight! In some ways, this is correct: I have overcome Bulimia Nervosa, the roots of which began when I was 8 (but that really took hold when I was 16). I no longer have any symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. These are two really big things that took a lot of hard work to achieve, and I am proud of them. Continue reading

2013. Not my best year.

Oh, 2013.

What. A. Year.

I wish I could write an uplifting post about personal growth. About how much I’ve learnt about myself this year, got in touch with my inner self, matured, changed. In all honesty though, I haven’t much.

I spent the first sixth months of this year firmly in denial. I knew what I had to do by March, but I resolutely didn’t  do anything about it until June. It’s a painful, horrible thing to think that you are going to spend to rest of your life with someone only to work out that it would, in fact, be an incredible mistake if you did.

I have let myself be frozen by anixiety and fear. It’s no surprise to many of you that I failed 3 subjects and barely passed another 3. I have relied on old addictive behaviours instead of healthy coping stratergies. I have shut people out and held myself in.

Really, this year there is not much that I am proud of.

I hope next year will be better. I hope I put more effort into life. I have lived too long behind the veil of illness and insecurity (sometimes, with legitmate cause but often without).

For a month and a half recently, I was reguarly chatting to guy. A good, funny, kind, intelligant Christian man. He helped me see myself in a new, or rather, old light. Once upon a time, I was fearless and fun and full of life. I miss being that person. I know I can’t ever be exactly her again, but I want to try to regain some of the important parts of life. He has inspired me to be passionate again.

I have three friends who have been struggling in various stages of recovery from eating disorders this year. They want to get better and Iam inspired by their zest for life.

My sister is building  a house. My mum is standing up for herself. My dad is enjoying life again.

Next year, I hope to be proud of myself.

Thankful Thursday #4: Mental Healthcare

Firstly, I realise that I’m a day late with thankful thursday this week.
I’ve been sick, and uni is in full swing and…I forgot. Oops!

This weeks topic is close to my heart, and it’s also something that matters to a lot of people I know: Mental Healthcare. One of my favourite blogging sites, Kiki & Tea, regularly publishes articles that relate to mental health and mental illness. In fact, this week they published two pieces, which you can find here and here, that deal with the two different sides of the same coin.

So why mental healthcare?
I’m glad you asked the question! Continue reading

The One With Monica’s Boots

The title of this blog comes from an episode of the show ‘Friends’. Basically, Monica buys some really beautiful, really expensive boots. She tells Chandler that the expense is ok – she can wear them with everything. Of course, the first time she wears them, she finds out that they are super uncomfortable! But determined not to lose face, she keeps pretending to wear them. She finally gets caught out after Chandler makes her wear them to a work function – and they have to walk a fair distance. She gives up, tells the truth and takes them off…and then promptly lusts after the same pair in a different colour that are on sale!  Continue reading

Dream A Little Dream

A gorgeous young woman, full of grace and joy and wearing a beautiful white dress, is escorted down the aisle by her Father. A handsome young man anxiously awaits her arrival, ready for the life together as a new family to begin. There is a kiss, and confetti , and a slow dance…and so much love and joy.

Fast forward, and the woman’s pregnant belly is blossoming before her, and her husband wraps his arms around it. First, a  baby boy is born, followed a few years later by his little sister. There are tears as these new lives begin, but tears of great joy and love.

They are happy. They are fulfilled. They work hard, but not too much. They enjoy spending as much time as they can together.
This is a family full of respect, joy, love and compassion…this is the dream.

 

Continue reading

The Choice

Yesterday, I made a choice.
I quit therapy.

Now, before you all get concerned, I want to put a few things out there.
To start off with, I have been seeing the same therapist regularly since March 2011. That’s almost two whole years. Something else, is the fact that I haven’t seen her for 8 weeks now because she’d been in NZ taking care of her parents (and I’m still alive & kicking). Another thing to add…is the fact that, because of her own strong opinions, I often felt like I couldn’t express my own opinions a lot of the time. She’s also inconvenient to get to, and is disorganised to hell.

That isn’t to say that she wasn’t helpful, because she has been wonderfully helpful over the past 23 months. I have learnt a lot about listening to my body, misplaced guilt and how to be an adult (seriously, we covered this topic a lot!). She was, at the start, very good a getting me to talk about the things that I need to, and desperately didn’t want to talk about. I no longer feel rage and guilt and shame about being abused, but rather feel anger and sadness in proportions that don’t control my life (yeah, take that you dick heads!). I am able to stand up for myself. I challenge myself. I am compassionate to myself (and others) when I am let down.

The point I’m trying to make (as scary as it is) is that in addition to all the annoying things I listed before… I feel ready to leave regular therapy. And I have felt ready for a while. So, I have. I know that I will always be able to access a counsellor when I need to. And I also know that I have to skills to survive  thrive in this crazy world. Bring on this new phase of recovery!

new day

P.S oh yeah. I just realised that I told y’all to not let me quit therapy. Hmm. Well, I’ve made my choice now! If you do have any concerns, please let me know, though, ok?