The Catalyst…

Some one in my recovery group wrote a blog post.  I’ve not even read it yet and I’m already inspired.  Its the knock on effect.  Their words hadn’t even penetrated my brain yet but I was already awestruck and motivated by their courage to put themselves out there.  I have been mulling over v logs and blogging for over a year or so but their vulnerability to put themselves out there was the catalyst that started this all.  Following this, the universe, and forgive me if that sounds wishy washy, followed it up with a few more signs that this is what I needed to do, not just for me but for others. 

On the same evening I connected with people in that session, and saw their reactions on their faces to some of my insights and musings on our situation and in return as they speak their side I feel a sense of ah-ha! that’s how you do it.  See, knowing your not alone is unbelievably uplifting even if you feel comforted by the idea of being alone.  I prefer to be alone, I was alone for a long long time, well my whole life, but I now know the importance and power of not being alone.  Another reason to share my mental health.

The next day I go to a CMHRS meeting/assessment.  Which I’ve had to fight tooth and nail for, repeatedly enforced my need to kill myself and that I need more help.  Guess what?  I didn’t get any.  I was in tears,  reaching for help.  Explaining how I can’t feed myself, I can’t go to work, I’m losing weight rapidly (a stone in a couple weeks), my suicidal thoughts are on the up.  I don’t feel I’m getting anywhere.  I’m a floundering fish who isn’t receiving any ongoing psychiatric therapy to stop me getting worse,  my current housing situation is far too stressful for me to cope, and yet the poor chap, who I could see did want to help,  couldn’t.  ‘There is a shortage of mental health teams,  theres not enough money or support’. he kept repeating to me as I wept away.  Theres an incredible increase in mental health illnesses and no recovery avenues to help them.  Theres a housing shortage for the misfortunate and yet £700.000 homes are being erected onto housing estates that no-one can afford.  No-ones complaining or speaking up about these problems so the people at the top think they’re doing a good job.  It was hopeless.  And I’d had enough.  This needs to change.  More and more are being affected by mental health.  1 in 4.  Thats 1 in every average household of people, will struggle at some point.  Where is their support?  Who in your family could it affect? and would you be able to help? or would you feel just as uneducated and unprepared as the person suffering because no-one informed you how to deal with it,  no matter if your experience or witnessing it.

On the radio, there was a segment about a young advocate for teenagers who are struggling.  She, that one person built a community that helped thousands.   She spoke up.  She explained, questioned, reached out and shared.  She inspired thousands.  she opened the doors on mental health to a young generation and they accepted, nay they celebrated it.  I am a lot older than her,   and I am enraged at how ignorant the stagnant societal views on mental health have continued to not change, despite the increase and yet I am relieved to see the new generations coming through encouraging the conversation.  I want to join that conversation.  And I want to help amplify it.

All of these catalyst inspire me to speak out.  To act on something thats a big part of my life and yet 1% of people who know me are aware of it.  So here I am.  I have a mental health illness.  Its an ’emotional unstable personalty disorder’.  Come and join me in celebrating our beautiful and irrevocable indifferences (:




Artwork Kalisaur Artwork

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