Asking For Help

A Cold Walk On The Beach.

I don’t like asking for help. I’m not sure why. Perhaps some of it is linked to my childhood. I didn’t like school and would have been happier not to be there so given any opportunity and an excuse that was reasonable, I would take it and take the time off if I could. Even when I was really ill though, I felt time off was given with a bit of scepticism. Maybe I was an attention seeker, I’m not sure. But I do know that now, and for many years, I feel like I am one when I admit how I feel.

I know my mental health isn’t great. Over the years I have tried to talk to doctors and therapists, but no-one understood and nothing made it better. In the end I resorted unintentionally to wine, which numbed it, and made things feel better than they were in the short term, but ultimately, I still had to deal with them in the long run.

Removing wine from my life is and was a good thing. It was the plaster holding me together but the wound underneath needed dealing with. So for the past three years and five months I’ve been trying to do that. I’ve tried to be patient with myself, I’ve tried to push myself slowly and safely out of my comfort zone and do new things. I’ve taken up hobbies, I’ve meditated, I’ve talked and I’ve cried. But... I am still struggling. I still find ‘normal’ things hard. New places, new things, people, work. Sometimes they are all a bit much for me.

Recently I had an argument with one of my kids. I know it wasn’t a big deal, arguments happen. But that voice is always there in my head reminding me what a failure I am, that I am not good enough, and it’s so hard to shake it off. I just can’t seem to keep it away. I want to feel positive in my life, because I have a wonderful family and home, I am lucky, and yet, sometimes I feel really down. I can’t get motivated to get out and do things. Everything is hard. Although sometimes there is a little glimmer in the middle when it gets easier again. That is confusing because it makes me question whether I am coming or going. I feel muddled and sometimes a bit vacant, like I hear what is going on around me, but I don’t take it all in. I feel like every comment made is directed at me, or a mistake I’ve made, even when I haven’t done anything. It’s exhausting.

I know recovery is different for everyone, but I had no idea it would take this long. Or that it would be this hard in so many different ways. Working through all this stuff seems endless. And makes me eat a lot of biscuits. Writing this makes me feel very self-indulgent, and like I am feeling sorry for myself, but actually I am a little bit. I feel like I’m doing all I can to get through this, to get on and make the most of my life, and yet I feel like I am stuck in quick sand. I know I’ve come along way from the woman who relied on wine everyday, I just wonder sometimes if it’s enough?

Has anyone got any advice? Tell me it gets easier please.

Thanks for reading!
Claire x

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