Mental health and Me

After reading Leah Burtons blog post about her journey with Borderline personality disorder, I felt what a true reflection it was and that I should in some way help break the stigma too. Please have a read of her post,

I am no professional in this subject.
I have however lived this life for aslong as I can remember, “it” is what makes me who I am. As much as I’d like to hide it and never write about it, I need to face facts that although medication could mask it, it will always be part of me. It could be like carrying a huge suitcase and attempting to hide it, disguise it as something else or I can just be brutally honest with my audience, my friends and talk about it.

Let’s break the stigma. It’s not spoken about enough, it’s misunderstood.

Mental health problems are real. The chances are, you know someone with an illness. If you didn’t,  you now know I have a mental health illness.

I have personally been  misdiagnosed with depression for years. When you are actively trying to fix a “problem” believe you me it’s frustrating to not know what’s really going on. It can be frightening. Now I have my “label” so to speak it is a breath of fresh air. For years I had been treating an illness that didn’t, in reality exist to me. There’s no wonder it wasn’t working. For a while I felt I wouldn’t ever be “fixed” and although that may still be true. I now have the knowledge and understanding that I’m not loosing myself, it has a name and other people also have it too. I understand my triggers, I now know what I need to do to keep my health stable and I know what I need to do when it’s not.

So there you have it, I have a Mental illness. If you already know me, you will probably know my “quirks”. I have a passion for new things that I didn’t understand prior to my diagnosis was any different of a passion than anybody else’s. I knew the down side to the illness I didn’t spot the highs, I thought it was just me.

Mental health illnesses even I’m 2016 aren’t spoken about enough. Children ask questions and sometimes we hush them as we feel they are asking too much. Maybe that is where is stems from? Maybe we were hushed too much from being small that we don’t ask the questions now.

I’m still unsure of why it’s not spoken about. I for one are no longer ashamed.



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