Baring all about the breakdown

The first time I have gone public about a breakdown I had 7 years ago. I was in the worst place a person can be mentally, so you may want to skip this one if today's not the day for the such reading.

World Mental Health Day inspired me to write a post for Linked In and share a bit about my own mental health journey.

I’ve never talked about this aspect of my journey in any detail before so figured I might as well really push the boat out and turn it into some longer form content.

Like all my blogs, this one goes deep. It’s written in the same open, real and raw style that I write from, always from a place of truth and authenticity. Because this one talks about near suicide, you might choose to give this one a swerve or come back to it another time.

Just like all things in life - even when sometimes it doesn’t feel like it - you get to choose.

As someone who’s come out the other side, I’m so glad I did.

7 years ago this month I had a breakdown & nearly took my own life.

I hadn’t realised with any level of awareness until this time, that I’d be having suicidal thoughts for I’d guess at a minimum of that whole year.

I now realise that the difference between thinking about it and being prompted to take action was because I was experiencing a cluster attack at the time. This is a pain I describe as excruciating.

(As a side note, cluster headache is now known to be the most painful experience a human can endure. A person is 20 times more likely to take their own life when suffering from these. You’ve got to wonder why medically we still keep referring to it as a headache?)

At a time where I still remained undiagnosed with the worlds most complex neurological disorder despite repeatedly telling doctors migraine was what it was left me feeling like I had no other choice or way to end my pain and suffering.

The difference between daily thoughts of suicide (at a guess for around a year) & taking action (to end excruciating pain) shocked me into realising how dire my situation had become.

I’d already been struggling in my life for nearly 2 years. Unbeknown to me at the time I’d also been in a state of burn out for 3 years.

On the outside I looked like I had it all and you never would have known. On the inside it was like car crash after car crash piling up on the M62.

At the age of 19, I was told by a receptionist at work “you need to see a counsellor”. At the time I didn’t connect in any way (I had no idea I was depressed) but I now wonder what part this message played in me taking action towards this all these years later.

I knew the waitlist through the NHS would be too long and that I needed to see a qualified counsellor, urgently.

I applied to North East Counselling Services and they brought me in for an assessment. Having to voice out loud and answer all the questions left me thinking “holy shit I am a real mess”.

On their advice, I went to log my impending counselling sessions with the doctors. Only to be completely ignored and told “we don’t do referrals to counselling services”. When I explained for the second time that I had put myself forward, was paying for it myself and they advised me to log it with them - that this was the only reason I was here, his reply was:

“you need to get on the drugs”

When I suggested that “there must be another way. Isn’t there something else I can do?”

“Have sex 3 times a week” he said.

To me, this was the LAST THING you wanted to be saying to someone who was a former drug user and sex addict. Inside I was screaming “if that f*cking worked I wouldn’t be in this mess now!!!” All as I continued to give off the demeanour that as a mid 30’s woman dressed in a suit, I really was someone who had my sh*t together.

I remember thinking even in this mentally depleted state that this entire conversation and advice felt wholly inappropriate.

I don’t think he realised how close I was to jumping off the bridge I passed on the way home. How would he respond if he did? Or if I had and he realised he had been the last person to see me?

Even though I was seeking self-funded counselling services, it was 6 weeks to see a counsellor in the time scales I’d given them. In my mind it had to be outside of work hours and despite all this, I continued to go to work every day.

At this news of delay, I broke down in front of my then boyfriend who would comfort me in the night when I woke up crying but knew little else of what was going on:

“I need to talk to somebody NOW. I am desperate”.

I couldn’t believe it when he said “Mark’s boyfriend is a counsellor. Want me to see if he can meet with you?”

Turned out, he knew a counsellor through a friend. A counsellor that we knew. A counsellor that we met up with on nights out! A counsellor I would see in real life outside of our sessions.

I was that desperate I didn’t care. In the end I met with him for 3.5 years.

7 years on, I’ve only recently connected with the gift of courage I received at this frightful time🎁

🗣️Courage to start speaking up.

🗣️Courage to start voicing how I was feeling.

🗣️Courage to reach out and state I needed help

First session in, the first tool my counsellor suggested to me was journaling.

I was so desperate at the time I was prepared to do anything it took to turn this frightful situation around.

The next day, I went to a stationery store and bought a purple journal.

I wrote quotes. Notes from TED Talks. Updates on my days/week.

It turned into a practice I went on to describe as “a tool that saved my life”.

This same practice is now a tool I use to level up in all areas of my life; personally, professionally, physically and energetically as well as mentally.

In the back of journals I would write a list of compliments people gave me, letters to myself as though I were writing to a friend & other practices inspired by research on self-care and wellness.

The weekend after my first session, me and my boyfriend were in town. A live band were playing music in the city centre street. In that moment, it was like something in my brain clicked. I could physically feel it.

As the band played the Bob Marley classic “Three Little Birds” and we were dancing in the street, the words

“Don’t worry, about a thing

‘Cos every little thing

Is gonna be alright”

In that moment I knew that everything really was going to be alright.

Though physically, my health continued to deteriorate at a rapid & significant rate (18 months later, I found myself completely disabled by illness). Yet, despite this, my mental health had strengthened.

The Monday following my first session, as I walked across the bridge on the way to work, I became consciously aware of the thoughts I had been affirming for over 18 months.

Thoughts like “I am struggling. I’m not coping. I hate my life in Newcastle”.

I made up a few to replace these

“I have a good life in Newcastle. I am in the right place at the right time, going in the right direction”.

Did I believe them? Did I f*ck.

Though I repeated them every single day on the way home to and from work.

It took me a couple of weeks to start even remotely buying into them.

I’ve written a blog about affirmations in more detail that I’m still yet to type it up. It’s with my other pile from the beginning of the year that I wrote in Thailand back in January. If that version of me could have seen the year I’ve had in 2023, she’d never have believed that either.

Physically and financially, it got worse before it got better - but look at where I am now.

What’s the 1 thing I want you to know if you’re where I was 7 years ago?

This feeling is temporary.

It’ll pass.

You might need to reach out & speak to someone to help facilitate this, but it will pass.

You. Are. Not. Alone.