The Warrior Within

Caesarean Awareness Month (April)

💙Caesarean Awareness Month 💙

I know the spelling is wrong but the sentiment still stands. I risked my life to give life. There were so many risks to that operation that when she was reeling them off (just prior to my emergency caesarean) I screamed “I consent to the lot” (mainly through pain as they’d taken my gas and air off me lol).

I’ve read in many places that caesarean mums are “lazy” because they didn’t choose a vaginal birth. Some of us, and friends of mine, didn’t have the luxury of choice. Our babies were in critical need.

The recovery from a caesarean is one I’ll not forget. They tell you to not lift a kettle, or an iron, or anything heavier than your baby (at 9lb 2oz, that gave me scope). I relied heavily on my Mum’s two weeks off for her practical support. I then developed an infection in my scar, and required antibiotics. I was sad the birth I had was not one I was either wanting or prepared for.

It angers me that caesarean mums are referred to as this. My recovery made the first few magical days that much more difficult. I thank God for the consultants and midwifes monitoring me. Without them, Oliver would have gotten further in distress and (without sounding too dramatic) I could’ve lost him. This surgery is there to save lives, reduce risks and intervene when situations need it.

That surgery saved his life, and gave me a reason to live mine. For that, I’ll always be a proud sunroof mum.

No Judgement, Thanks

This has to be the biggest lesson I learned in 2017.

I realised that my decisions I was making, I was making for me. Of course I considered other people’s views and opinions but ultimately I had to sit down and evaluate where my life was going, and most importantly who with. I cut a lot of people out of my life when I was in rehab mainly because they didn’t want to or couldn’t support me, or because they didn’t realise a relationship is a two-way thing. You don’t give to receive, you give to give back. I lost people I considered real friends which was heartbreaking at the time but my Mum actually helped me through this challenge. Sometimes when you move on in life, in whatever direction, you have to accept that some people won’t be following you and that’s ok.

I have made some pretty shitty decisions over the last year, but some pretty good ones too. I decided them on the basis on how it was going to affect me because at the end of the day, I am the one who has to live with the consequences.

If you have to wake up and fight your mind every day like I do, then you may have an opinion. If you struggle with physical pain so unbearable at times you need a wheelchair, then you may have an opinion. If you’ve lived my life (or came out of my uterus) then you may have an opinion.

Until then, don’t judge my decisions. You don’t know what got me here xxx

Words on your Skin

No, to be honest. If the words I used to describe myself ended up etched Upon my skin I’d be mortified.

Perhaps we ALL need to be a little kinder with ourselves. Give ourself a compliment. Pat ourself on the back. Be proud of a job well done, or a list completed.

One kind word a day toward ourselves teaches the next generation to like themselves more, or to at least accept themselves.

After 11+ years of education no one taught us how to love ourselves ❤️

Just Jeans?

I bought a new pair of jeans today. Nothing special about them, they were blue and quite unremarkable.
However, trying them on was quite a trial. I squeezed into them yes, but they didn’t fit and weren’t even close to being the next size down (even though that’s the size I am in another shop). So I took them off in a huff and I cried. I was miserable. What I should’ve done was fold them back up, put them in my wardrobe for when I DO fit in them or worse case scenario, put them back in the bag to return them.

But no I laid on the bed and cried. That horrible little voice in my head turned nasty, vile even. You’re too fat, you’re a blob, you’re ugly, you’re unattractive, you’re stupid, you’re nothing.

My partner reminded me (and for this I am grateful) that the size of my jeans or the number on the scale does NOT reflect on my selflessness, my creativity, my passion. It does NOT reflect how kind I am to others, how patient I am with situations. It does NOT reflect how intelligent I (can be). It doesn’t reflect how far I’ve come in other aspects of my life.

I might be big, heavy, fat whatever you want to call it but I’m a good person. And THAT is what I’m most proud of ❤️

I Choose Recovery

I chose recovery. I chose hope. I chose to be bigger and better than my demons. I don’t think this battle will ever be “over” but I’m definitely winning it. I might stumble and fall but I get back up. I fight.

Every day I wake I am fighting to be a better me, a better person who got her shit together and decided to go for it.

I had a stumble in October when I found out a friend had passed away suddenly, and it put pressure on my relationships but I got through it. Yes there was a time I wanted to give up, and I very nearly did but I’m so glad I didn’t.

Life on the other side of mental health isn’t so bad, and I’m proof that as long as you’re fighting, you’re winning 💪🏼

Authenticity of Mental Health

I don’t fake being sick. I fake being well. I do it for society’s benefit. I do it for the people who don’t believe in, or who judge, mental illness. I plaster a smile on when I feel like crying. I put on my mask. I try my best.

The sad thing is if I told you or showed you I’d broken my leg your sympathy would be given in a heartbeat. You couldn’t do enough for me. But mental health? Nah. You can plaster a broken leg, you can’t a broken mind.

Be mindful that people are faking being well. Try not to judge what you don’t know. Remember everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about. The next time you see someone half smiling, or smiling but their eyes tell a different story…smile back. Let them know they’re not alone. Because people who are fighting invisible illnesses need love, support and genuine compassion.

Be brave, be kind 💖

Empty Cup

“Sure, I’ll do that for you. Yeah course, I don’t mind sitting up til 2am counselling you. Don’t you worry, I’ll put that kettle on and be your sounding board”

I DO NOT mind doing the above. In fact, it takes me away from my own problems and I will freely give you my time, wisdom and funny one liners. I don’t mind.

However, today I was reminded that I move oceans for people who wouldn’t jump puddles for me.

I’m in a storm at the moment (that’s putting it politely) and I really could’ve done with feeling less alone, less isolated, less unloved. I have family and friends, and I’m grateful for the ones who’ve reached out to me these last few weeks I really am.

I’m writing in my diary about how I feel and I’m angry. People are not showing me the same courtesy, love and support I’ve offered them over the years and, quite frankly, I feel a bit used. I’m not one to give in order to receive but don’t take the piss out of me.

I am not opening up to people because their offer of support is withdrawn; either by specific say so, assumption or ignorance.

Sorry folks but, for the time being, the errands won’t be run, the counselling service is closed and the kettle is off….because I can’t pour from an empty cup 😢

Glamorising Mental Health

Bulimia isn’t a tragic young girl with her head hung over a toilet looking beautiful. It’s a puffed, miserable face with vomit dripping from the chin and a nose bleed.

Anorexia isn’t a slim figure shyly refusing a cupcake. It’s getting Hair across your malnourished and freezing body.

Depression isn’t a model with mascara stains on her face looking into the sunset. It’s staring at the ceiling at 4am with burning eyes because you’re so damn tired. It’s being afraid of the night in case you don’t make it til morning.

Hearing voices isn’t always soothing and reassuring. Sometimes it’s frightening, scary and overwhelming.

Self-harm isn’t people kissing your scars telling you you’re still beautiful. It’s nasty fucking scars that’ll be there forever serving as a constant reminder and stinging in the shower.

Panic attacks aren’t burying your head into your partner’s chest and they’re telling you it’ll be ok. It’s feeling out of control and like oxygen is being stolen from you.

Mental illnesses are not beautiful and they don’t make you special. They don’t make people suddenly care about you. They’re monsters that take and destroy lives. Stop romanticising mental illness!

Supporting the fighters, admiring the survivors, honouring the taken and never, ever giving up hope 💖

#MeToo

I’ve been thinking long and hard about posting this in my Happiness Journey. Mainly because it’s not a ‘happy’ topic but it IS relevant.

This hashtag has gone viral; Hollywood stars and general folk like you and me are posting #metoo. What a sad, sad state of affairs that the majority of women (not excluding men) have survived a sexual assault.

I’m posting this in my Happiness Journey because it is RIGHT that we, as a world, are recognising and admitting this happens. With support, I hope the survivors are able to lead relatively normal lives. Notice I am not using the word victim (that’s on purpose) because if you’ve managed to rebuild your life after a sexual assault then you are, in my eyes, a survivor not a victim any more. What a brave, bad-ass thing to do and with such strength.

I am sorry if you are sitting behind your screen afraid of posting the hashtag. I am so sorry if someone violated you. I am sorry that the assault(s) broke you. But I am so proud of you for surviving it.

You don’t have to admit it. You’re not obliged to. But remember for every one person that posts it, many more can’t or won’t…let’s think about them as well.

So, with a heavy but rebuilt heart I also post #metoo.

World Mental Health Day 2017

It is so lovely to see my Facebook and Instagram newsfeed filled with so much awareness for World Mental Health Day. It is people like you who are breaking down the barriers of the stigma of mental health. It is people like you that are making a difference! It is people like you who are enabling society to talk about it. There might not be much you can do for mental health but talking about it is key. That in itself is massive.

Value those around you. Anyone can suffer from poor mental health and it is motivating to feel needed, loved and wanted. That’s what we need. Intervention and support is absolutely vital in preventing suicide and poor mental health and if you can be the difference to someone, please do it if you feel able to.

I am open and honest about my mental health and my journey to recovery. I’m proud to say that today is 6 months since I last hurt myself and I can’t believe how far I’ve come.

Every day is #WorldMentalHealthDay for me and my fellow sufferers. What amazes me is they keep fighting like the soldiers they are…and so do I 💖