To Those I Have Loved, and Lost

Lifestyle

For a little while now I have wanted to write this post, I just had no idea where to start.

With my parents moving and leaving our hometown behind, it feels as though this is the right time to do it.

The past 2 years of my life have been a whirlwind. I left school earlier than I should have, I moved away from home and I started my career, all whilst battling a mental illness. These things are everything I have ever wanted to do. I remember being a little girl and pretending my bedroom was my own studio flat, and going to school wishing I was doing my dream job; I was so elated when I finally had the real thing. But because everything happened so quickly, I never really gave myself chance to realise what I had left behind.

Over the 18 years I lived in Kenilworth, I met people who will stay in my heart forever – no matter how little we talk or how far apart we are. I had the most wonderful friends growing up. People that shaped my life and made me the person I am today. The memories I have made playing on the street with my neighbours, pretending to be sick with my best friend so we could stay home together, going on holidays – those memories I will keep forever.

Unfortunately I lost a lot of those friends because of my own personal anguish, arrogance and absent-mindedness.

I’ve never been one to text, I’m still not now to my boyfriend and mother’s despair. But when I left school, I neglected a lot of my friends by rejecting their calls and ignoring their texts… (if I have ever ignored your text, I can honestly say this is nothing personal, I am just a huge pain in the ass). I’ll read a message, intend on responding, think of a message back then get distracted. Sometimes I will get distracted for an hour, sometimes a month. It’s one of my worst qualities and I can’t even begin to justify it. I’m not going to preach that it’s because I have been busy or I want to spend less time on my phone – it takes 2 seconds to send a quick message to someone and I know I could have tried harder.

I also never want to blame my mental health for the way I treat other people. I have been pretty shit to the people who have been so wonderful to me and now I am coping with my illness better, I realise that. Again, I can’t justify not seeing my friends for months on end and avoiding any contact with them solely on depression. But it did play a big part.

During both the peak of what I was going through and the recovery process, I spent a lot of time alone. I felt most content with my own thoughts. I even neglected my parents by spending every waking hour in my room rewatching the same TV show, sleeping in until ungodly hours and eating in isolation. By being on my own, I didn’t have to put up a front and I could be completely myself. When on my way to feeling better, I tried my best to rebuild the relationship with my family that I lost when I was so distant. When I did manage to get out of the house, I just wanted to be with them. They knew me best at that time and I felt safe in their company knowing they would be there if I broke down. As awful as it sounds, I had some of my best times on my route to recovery, being with my parents doing my favourite things; they just wanted to make me happy so we would go to new places and have a lot of afternoon tea.

Once I finally got to a place where I was ready to face the world and the people who once knew me, I felt (through only my own fault) like a burden. Everyone was doing just fine without me, they didn’t need my fluctuating moods and unreliability ruining what was one of the best years of their lives. I was also a significantly different person at this time in comparison to how I was beforehand. I had learnt a lot about myself and I felt like the first months of taking my medication stripped back a lot of my personality. I wanted my friends to remember me as the girl I used to be – fun, bubbly and alive – not sad and dead behind the eyes. It felt best to move on. If I knew what I know now, I would most definitely have made a different decision.

I’m sorry it took so long to give an explanation. And I am sorry I couldn’t do it directly. I am most sorry that I lost you in the first place.

I miss my friends with all my heart. And I would do anything for things to go back to the way they were. Right now, I think it is important we all grow at our own speeds, in our own directions. I hope that one day we will come together again and rekindle the friendships I used to love so dearly. Until then, I will laugh and cry about, love, and cherish the moments we had.

Hugs and wishes,

Abbie x

Follow me: Instagram

Real Talk: Relapsing

Lifestyle
relapse
rɪˈlaps/
verb
gerund or present participle: relapsing
  1. (of a sick or injured person) deteriorate after a period of improvement.

I could very easily pretend like this weekend didn’t happen, and that it was all flowers, fairies and family (which 30% of it was may I add). But I also need to acknowledge the fact that the rest was not.

On Friday I had one of my most significant relapses yet. Everything felt like it was going wrong; I was tired, depressed and extremely alone. I suddenly had this overwhelming feeling of helplessness wash over me. Granted, a simple wrong direction can have my world spinning upside down but this time it was far more prominent.

Whilst I’m at work, I keep myself busy. I don’t have time to over think things; I have like-minded people around me to talk to and keep me company. I really love my work and who I work with! But let’s not lie, unless you’re very lucky, there will always be some sort of boundary between work friends and actual friends.

On Friday it suddenly dawned on me just how alone I am. I have one friend in London who is usually too busy living his normal young adult life to fit me in with my work hours – which I don’t blame him for! I would too if I could. The closest family and friends I have are at least 2 hours away from me. It doesn’t matter how much I can pride myself on saying I’m independent, capable, adult etc. everyone needs someone.

Anyway, I came out of work to a completely normal Friday. I’m used to seeing everyone together having drinks in bars, eating food and laughing whilst making my way home. It doesn’t usually affect me but there was something about it that made me feel sick to my stomach. For some reason, I just cried… And cried and cried.

Then I went on to do things that the old me would have done, I walked down dark alleyways in hope that I would be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I crossed every road without bothering to look, unconcerned about the cars and buses just meters away. I went through Shoreditch hoping a sleazy man would pay me some attention. I walked for an entire hour in the freezing cold, found a canal and just sat next to the water in the dark. I went into full on self-sabotage mode.  And you know the worst thing about it all? Not one person looked my way.

I find it more difficult to contend with relapse when I have been doing so well for so long. You feel like you’ve worked so hard for what? I also find it tough knowing therapy hasn’t helped me and I’m on the highest dose of medication I can get. What now? Is this really my life forever? A couple of months of feeling ‘normal’ then a weekend of self-pity and you’re back to square 1.

It’s tough as hell having to accept that you might go through this for the rest of your life. But after really thinking about it, there is nothing I can’t handle. Relapses don’t last into infinity. If they did, I wouldn’t be alive to write this post today. You can think that there’s no hope and you’ll be like this forever. But if you’ve relapsed, that means you have got better.

As much as we would like it to be, life is not linear. Our ups and downs, as painful as they are, teach us a new way of coping every time.

This time taught me – always wear a coat if there’s a possibility mental breakdown.

Hugs and wishes,

Abbie x

 

Follow me: Instagram