My journey with depression, chronic fatigue syndrome and borderline personality disorder. Part 5.

Embarking on an affair with a married man is one the stupidest things I ever did and I had no dignity for myself or respect for anyone involved. It nearly destroyed me several times.

I moved out of the marital home and into a rented house nearby. I strongly believe in feathers as a sign from people who have passed. I say it's my mum when I see a feather. The morning I rushed back from the school run to get paperwork to go and get a house rented out I saw feathers everywhere. 

But I told myself because the house I was getting was in the next street to the marital home (so our I wouldn't have to move our daughter away from her friends) and I could afford it that it was meant to be. 

I also thought having this house would mean that my married man would come to me. Just like going to New Zealand, it didn't work. I could write a whole book about the things that happened but I won't bore you with the details other than he acted like a married man. He was text book. Getting a second phone so he could text me, using business trips as a way of us going away for the night, pretending to go to work but seeing me all day. We would be skyping virtually all day when we couldn't see each other. 

I should have known, indeed I did know that it wasn't going to work by the fact that I'd gone on a trip abroad with a friend when we first got together and whilst I was away he told me he couldn't do it. I rang him and he cried but after a day started to text again and this was to be the pattern for many months to come.

On 3 occasions, he 'moved' in. Well, the first one he rang to say he was leaving his wife and could he live with me. I was shocked but allowed it. That night he seemed ok but the next day was acting a bit weird before he went to work. He texted me not long after he had left my house and said he needed to go and see his kids after work as they were upset. I said it was no problem and I'd see him later, then I went upstairs. The majority of the stuff he'd brought with him the night beforehand gone. He had left. 

I was furious. But I let him do this to me over and over again. Each time getting weaker and weaker in one way and stronger in another. 

I had started to work more hours working three nights a week and my husband would only have our daughter on the nights I worked. She had taken to getting up when I'd gone to bed and I'd find her watching TV all hours of the night plus she wouldn't go to bed for me and every night was stressful trying to get her to bed and to sleep. I was so tired from working all the time and barely getting any sleep. My husband was meanwhile doing all the things I wanted to do like going out, going to the cinema or having a meal. He seemed a changed man but he wouldn't leave me alone. If I didn't text him he sulked, if I did he would persuade me to see him once our daughter had gone to bed and do all the things he never did whilst we were together like cook a meal for us both and watch a movie together and even share a bottle of wine.

Wine had become a very good friend of mine at this time and I had started drinking a lot. It quelled the pain of hurt, loneliness, anger and bitterness. It also stopped the tears. I cried a hell of a lot during that time. I didn't know any other way of dealing with it. I didn't know half of what I know now of dealing with life than I do now. Maybe I wasn't in the right place to do it back then?

Whilst on a break from MM (married man) I started seeing someone else who liked to drink also. It was a dangerous mixture. I had told him about MM and he was understanding and even shared the texts with him MM would send me whilst we were together. I'd told MM to leave me alone as I was seeing someone else but he wouldn't leave me be and although I had ignored him for a short time when things went wrong with the guy I was back in touch and seeing MM again.

I would miss out on sleeping after my shifts in order to see MM and it was taking it's toll. I was getting very little sleep and was very stressed out. The thrill and excitement had gone but I was stuck with being dependant on this guy. It all came to a head when I'd not slept properly for days and he lied to me again about coming to be with me. It was all a bit too much and I took an overdose. I didn't really want to die, just sleep but stupidly I had done it whilst my daughter was with me. I don't know what I was thinking. The case was referred to social services and after I'd been discharged form hospital it was decided that I would move back into the marital home so that our daughter was safe and social services would be happy that I wasn't on my own with her. Little did I know that my husband would use this against me at a later date. 

I couldn't stay away from MM despite what I had been through and after a while back at home, in separate rooms, I saw him again or was at least in touch with him. Despite trying to give my marriage a go, my heart wasn't in it and I missed MM so much. My husband found out and I got kicked out again and went back to my rental place briefly. But after a short time I was back at the marital home. I can't exactly remember the sequence of events. It's all very fussy and confusing. 

My husband and I started to live sort of separate lives. So I did see MM now and again. He had moved out and sold his marital home and was living alone in a place I could have only ever dreamed of living. I thought perhaps this was it and we would finally be together but something wasn't right. He was acting very strangely. He wasn't keen on me staying overnight.  If I did he would have me out the house by the crack of dawn claiming he had meetings to go to. I never stood up to him or asked to be left in bed and I would let myself out later. When I was getting ready to leave he would scan the house and make sure I'd left nothing behind. He claimed was so his children didn't see anything so I bought it. 

Something was wrong but I couldn't put my finger on it. One night he said he was staying in and watching a movie. He hardly texted me that night and I knew he was lying so I drove to his house and his car wasn't there. Later that night when he started texting again I challenged him and he denied everything. He was good at doing that. He had done it a lot in the past and his wife had even confirmed some of my beliefs on a few things. I went round and he wouldn't open the door but when I started shouting he did as it was a small village and he had an appearance to keep up.

I threw the presents he had given me for christmas back at him and a necklace he had given me the christmas before and said good riddance. I badgered and badgered him on text after to tell me the truth about what had been going on and he still denied anything had. But eventually after banding insults backwards and forwards he admitted he'd been seeing a girl his sister worked with who lived int the village. That explained everything.

He still denied how long he'd been seeing her as he said it was only once but it had been weeks. I also found out that the liaison he'd had with a girl from the office before we had gotten together was more than a kiss in the carpark. I'm not saying I was in the wrong but jut that this was the type of person I really didn't need ever in my life.

I had the ability to attract the vultures of the vulnerable easily. One of my ex friends was one. I hadn't really wanted to be friends with her but she wouldn't leave me alone. I took it as flattery rather than what it was. A following for her. I kept the relationship up for years but when I had finished the relationship with MM and started to look at other avenues to occupy myself she slated everything I did. Apparently she had been having a go about me for a long time behind my back but it didn't come to light until I accidentally offended her on text then the proverbial hit the fan.

Ironically she did me a favour as she had reported me to social services for drinking too heavily and sleeping whilst our daughter was in the house so I stopped drinking and went to work weekends instead. I had taken on a challenge to keep my mind off MM so that gave me chance int he week to fundraise for it whilst my daughter was at school. 

My husband and I seemed to carry on after all the stuff with MM but I still struggled to be his wife. Sex was always begrudged and I never had any libido. We still had separate rooms because I found it annoying if I was fast asleep then he'd wake me up on coming to bed and then I wouldn't get back to sleep. I found a new lease of life in cycling though and training for a big bike ride in Africa. So things just bumbled along and I forgot about everyday life and just focused on fundraising and bike riding. 

My journey with depression, chronic fatigue syndrome and borderline personality disorder. Part 4.

May contain triggers for you. Stay safe.

There is a tree in the middle of a field where I used to walk my dog. That tree was my comfort blanket. I imagined myself hanging from it. Not the putting of the rope around the branch or the physical act of looping it around my neck or how horrid it would feel to die. Just the peace I felt seeing the figure limp and lifeless, hanging there. At peace at last.

Morbid? yes, weird? maybe? Why was it a comfort? Because it meant that if the figure was me I would be free from all these terrible feelings and free of the conflict my brain was constantly throwing at me. The guilt was like a lead weight suffocating me. Why did I feel this way?

Personally I think I had done more than my body could take and the fatigue precipitated the depression. I was exhausted but I was also depressed. I've seen the same pattern over and over again. I get exhausted and then really depressed. I can be tired and start getting depressed but then I get exhausted and become much more depressed. It's not the normal kind of tiredness, it's not relieved by sleep and I could sleep for hours and hours and still feel dreadful.

I was on antidepressants and was still under the mother and baby psychiatrist but still felt my mood wasn't improving with the drugs so my psych changed it. I stayed on citalopram for a while then was discharged from the mother and baby psychiatrist when my daughter was a year old, which was the normal thing. I had appointments every 3 months to keep a close eye on me but every time I went, I saw a new face and had to repeat everything again. After the 3rd visit I lost all faith in the psychiatric system again as the doctor I was with kept nodding off on me. I answered his questions with 'yes/no' answers juts to get to over with and get out of there. It felt like a farce. It felt like no one was listening anymore.

I just pretended everything was ok but it wasn't. I went to my GP and asked to swapped to a drug I had briefly tried before. He refused and said I needed to change my life style. I told him I was trying and had done what I could but still felt suicidal. He asked me with what I thought at the time was a very a patronising tone, why I hadn't killed myself yet. I was getting very upset and angry and aware I was shouting, I have a loud voice anyway so it doesn't take much for me to sound louder. I screamed at him though gritted teeth 'because I have a child'. He was still not going to change my tablets so I stormed out the surgery and headed home. I bloody mindedly cancelled my psychiatric appointments knowing to get one again may result in me having to go on the waiting list again and decided I would do it all alone and come off my pills altogether.

It wasn't long before I was struggling again so decided to contact the MIND advocacy people to have a representative come with me to talk to the GP. I felt that being on my own they could say anything and be unhelpful and I was very vulnerable. Having someone with me had always proved beneficial in the past. My husband wouldn't come with me and I didn't have anyone I could ask to go with me. These people are trained for these situations so knew it was the right thing to do. I was determined to go back to the GP and face up to him and get him to help me. By the time I got an appointment again, that GP had left so got a locus instead. He could not have been a nicer person. He was understanding, helpful and caring. He rang my psychiatrist there and then and spoke to him. By that time legislation had changed and GP's could no longer prescribe certain drugs, only psychiatrists could.

I went back to see my psychiatrist and this time actual saw the consultant. He was ok with me after he told me I should never take my medication into my own hands and my treatment needed close supervision! Anyway after discussion he agreed with me to go back on the meds I had been on a while back, Venlafaxine. I was on a really small dose as I found the side effects to be horrid.

I found it very hard to function, although I did my best for my daughter. She was never neglected, but I only had the energy for her and my gran and that was about it. I was also having dreadful trouble with my stomach. The doctors said it was IBS and gave me a shed load of pills to help with it. It kept me up at night in agony and I felt like I had been poisoned a lot of the time. I was really sensitive to a lot of foods and was experimenting with cutting things out, avoiding dairy, stuff like that. I didn't drink a lot at the time either.

I couldn't face the possibility of going back to work and as the weeks rolled by I still had trouble coming to terms with going back. I just had about enough energy to do the basics. I was having acupuncture again and eating better and slowly the depression and suicidal thoughts subsided but I still couldn't stand the thought of going back to work. It was the momentum I didn't think I could stand and I wasn't good at pacing myself. Luckily, my husband was earning good money so I asked him if I could give up or until I was fully better. I know I berated him for not helping me out but I was and am grateful he allowed me to give up work.

I say 'allowed' because I couldn't just give up  work without his say so. We could manage financially but it would mean he would be responsible for all the bills etc. If the shoe had been on the other foot, I would have struggled with the concept.

With nothing else to cloud my recovery I embarked on looking after my daughter and my granny and granddad and living a very simple life. A easier life. I began to get my energy back and feel more positive. I took 8 months off work altogether and began thinking about getting another job. Very part time hours only. I ended up asking my ex manager if I could get a job back in the place I worked when my daughter had been born. I got one night a week. The manager was ok with us doing fixed nights but not fixed days. I thought one night a week would be fine. I had to do it at the weekend so we wouldn't have to pay for childcare so my husband could spend some quality time with our daughter also.

He was doing the house up at the time so spent most weekends doing DIY therefore he never got to spend quality time with her. It was a good opportunity for them both. The only thing was he would spend her the time with her going to DIY stores! Gradually I got back into the swing of things and started working 2 nights a week but it was hard work. I'd try to sleep the day of my night shift for an hour or 2 before I got my daughter from school then go to work and hardly sleep the next day as I found it hard to do that. I'd probably get 2-3 hours max in the day then pick her up from school. Some days I was so desperate to get back to sleep that as soon as my husband walked in the door I would go to bed. Then the next day I'd do the same again as I had another night shift to do.

My husband continued to not have much interest in being a father to our daughter and I was solely responsible for her. 24/7. I found this very difficult being so tired after a night shift and dragging myself to get her from school after 3 hours sleep at most. I was in a constant fog of tiredness and lack of sleep followed by insomnia. It wasn't pleasant.

I carried on this way for a couple of years. I'd always known when I had gotten married that life would be the same day in and day out with not much to look forward to in the way of holidays and I could predict the future totally. A few breaks away camping, myself and my daughter and trips to see friends broke up the monotony. Nothing changed. I craved excitement. Mostly I was doing ok and could manage with a few short lived blips in between but with a nagging sense of boredom.

Our daughter was nearly 4 by then and I'd started to entertain myself to relieve the boredom by fantasising that a guy would come and sweep me off my feet and rescue me from the mundanity. Writing this now I can see it's ridiculous. I was very unhappy with my husband and should have just found somewhere to live and leave him. Messing about on Facebook I came across a guy I used to know from school and messaged him.

Messages passed back and forth for a while, mainly about life and what we had been up to. Then he started asking if we could meet. And although the thought was exciting I was nervous. I didn't even consider my husbands feelings as I thought I had nagged and begged long enough for some help, even just go in work a little later so I could get straight to bed and get an extra hours sleep but it never happened. I switched off my capacity to care about what he thought. I know now it was wrong.

We were getting closer to meeting all the time and when we'd finally arranged on a date I had cold feet. I remember coming back from the school run one morning and ringing him saying I couldn't do it as he had so much to lose from seeing me. I didn't think I had anything to lose. I was my daughters total carer so my daughter would always stay with me. Fathers don't generally get custody of their children and become part time. How naive I was.

He persuaded me to see him and I agreed. I lied about where I was going but my husband knew I was up to something. After the first night we spent together I knew then I would leave my marriage. I thought we would be together as we were meant to be. I was on cloud nine. I felt more alive than I had done for a long time.

But this was the start, as I'm sure you can imagine, of incredible heart ache and pain for us all.

My journey with depression, chronic fatigue syndrome and borderline personality disorder.Part 3.

Contains candid content that may trigger. Be careful.

I'd never lived with a partner before. Only my dad and my brother and mum of course.

I'd sort of got idea that although a woman worked she was expected to do all the house work etc as well. I had grown up in a traditional sort of family with my Gran staying at home and doing all the 'caring' whilst my Granddad provided and hunter gathered. It was a great childhood. But in order for us to live in the house we had in the village we did my mum had to get a job. My dad worked nights and my mum worked early mornings. She got fed up of doing all the chores so asked my dad to do the pots when he came in from work. It was horrendous. He'd get in at 7 is and the noise from him losing his temper was awful. My mum suffered from extreme tiredness and thinking about it the house was always very clean and tidy. Clothes were always washed and put away yet she never got any thanks for it. And I was starting to see where she had been coming form.

My energy levels had never been fantastic but when my HTB (husband to be) and I moved in together the amount of work I was doing started taking their toll. I kept thinking hopefully he'd start to lift a finger and help me with the house work or see that things needed doing. But alas it was not to be. My brother had the same attitude when he had briefly lived with me and now it seemed so did my HTB.

It didn't matter if I worked nights or days or many shifts on the trot. It was still me who did the majority of the chores. We both worked full time but he would be out the house longer. The only time he did the housework was when I was at work and he was off, as he had nothing better to do.
Alarm bells were ringing as this was not what I'd hoped for from a partner. I hoped he could see I was struggling and pull his finger out a bit more after all he didn't suffer from energy problems at all.

I carried on thinking he'd change and see how I needed his help and got on with wedding plans. I again did everything, drove everything. My HTB was younger than I was and maybe a bit naive but still I'd been independent since I was a teenager and he had gone to live in a shared house with friends as a teenager but I guess he acted like a lot of male students and didn't think cleaning etc was his job or even care about it. Who knows. I worked shifts so although I was out the house the same time as working regular hours I was in at times when most people would still be at work. So therefore I guess it was seen as my duty if I was there I would do it. And I couldn't ignore it.

Time passed and depressive episodes came and went, so did hypomanic episodes where I would work all hours just to keep out the house. I remember wishing I was like one of these people who were work-alcoholics and dedicated their lives to work. But I couldn't sustain it. I soon became ill again with fatigue then depression. I'd take a couple of weeks off work then bounce back. I changed my job as I thought I wanted more recognition, money, whatever it was I thought I wanted. But I couldn't sustain the job and hated it so went back to my old job. I was trying to fill a hole in my being I had had for years. Getting married didn't help it as my husband didn't help me or support me emotionally. My job never fulfilled me.

My life was a constant round of working loads then getting ill and spending loads to make myself feel better, so then I'd be in debt so then I'd have to work harder to pay it off but then I couldn't sustain the work patterns because of my mood and/or fatigue. I'm sure I was very difficult to live with.

My now husband decided he didn't want a child after all even though we had discussed it before the wedding and agreed we'd have kids. I don't think he wanted the responsibility or to share me with anyone or anything. He had already displayed his none comital and indifference with animals despite having grown up with them. He rarely showed emotion about anything and I just thought things just didn't float his boat as I was very excited or passionate about a lot of things. I didn't even consider my mental health problems when considering pregnancy or being a mother. I was just searching for something to fill the void. I thought being a mother would somehow complete me.

We agreed that if we used some money I had gotten back from a policy that we would use it to travel and then try for a baby later that year. Which is what we did. I know bringing a child into that relationship wasn't a good idea but the thought of starting all over again at 30 didn't seem like a good option. Baring in mind the trouble I'd had with even finding a relationship, I thought, to have the relationship I had and especially being married was what I needed to keep at. Having a baby was the next step.

I was very sick during my pregnancy and have recently been reminded how horrendous I was to be around when I was pregnant. I felt dreadful. I had terrible IBS and sickness and lots of aches and pains. It was like having PMS and a hangover for months. I got some relief when I was about 15 weeks pregnant. It turned out I wasn't going to my full maternity pay either as my daughter was due 3 days before the cut off point to receive maternity pay. It meant I was only going to get 6 weeks maternity pay. Some people might have just been able to get on with this but I was feeling physically ill and now upset over the prospect of not being able to be off with my baby.

So I worked overtime to save money towards being off. I drove myself into the ground. I felt so ill that I had no energy to even lift my arms to wash my hair. I had to beg my husband to do it for me. I had no energy at all. I felt sick all the time, had terrible indigestion and everything hurt. I began to be very depressed. I worked long days back to back and carried on doing all the other stuff as much as I could. I didn't sleep well which added to the fatigue and was very tearful. I eventually went to the doctors as I felt very low. Suicidal even. I hadn't been suicidal before as such but now I had the urge to make it all stop but didn't have a plan on how to end it and I felt so guilty feeling that way whilst I was pregnant as well.

The GP referred me to a psychiatrist. I was so ill I went along as I was at the end of my tether. I remember thinking I hoped it wasn't a man due to my last encounter with a male one. She asked why I hadn't been to a psychiatrist for years so I told her what Dr Clayton had done. She made a note of it and although I wasn't in a good place I asked about reporting him. She said I could if I wanted to but it was up to me. She didn't report it herself but luckily that has changed in the system and she would have had a duty to report it. I was in no fit state to report it and could only focus on the here and now. Take each day at a time.

She put me back on prozac but I couldn't take it due to acid and started vomiting blood. We agreed I would go on it the moment I gave birth. I was off sick at work at this point and could not wait to give birth and get my body back. Looking back I probably had chronic fatigue then but it wasn't recognised. I didn't discuss any of my problems with my family as they would not have understood. Only close friends and colleagues knew. I was bitter and angry about not getting my maternity, about my husband not taking care of me, about a friend not being there for me when I had been there for her in the past. I was naive and ungrateful.

I decided to help myself also and opted to get acupuncture. I had tried it before but never had a course of treatment as such. I was willing to try anything and after researching it I opted to go back and see if it could help me. I began a course of treatment and began a great friendship with a wonderful person who went on to save me from myself on many occasions. It truly lifted me out of the sink hole I was in and got me to much better place I needed to be in.

In the mean time I took things into my own hands and booked to see an acupuncturist. I'd briefly dabbled in acupuncture before but this time I was holding out hope it would help me get out of this out I was in. 

I had a lot of treatments pre and post birth and honestly it saved my life. Whether it was the actual practitioner or the acupunture or a combination but it worked. Where 'conventional' medicine failed to treat me, the acupuncture therapy saved me. Literally from the edge. I went on to have it over the years over and over and still do to this day.

I was always a really negative person and now I realise the error of my ways but also I should not have entered into a relationship let alone had a child with someone who wasn't what I wanted. I settled for someone who adored me but I did not adore them. I should have ended it before it had gotten too serious. Undoing a marriage and a life together is very hard.

Our daughter was finally born and immediately I felt better. Euphoric almost. I was really happy to not have all the physical symptoms and so grateful for this baby. I felt invincible. I loved everything and everyone. I focused on routine and looking after my baby, walked the dog and had a very simple life with very little pressure. One of the loveliest times of my life.

My daughter started having problems with feeding and began vomiting a lot and constantly screaming. I was breast feeding and she couldn't keep my milk down and after 3 months I had to resort to formula but still she screamed and screamed. She wouldn't sleep and arguments started between my husband and I about who should get up with her. I'd be pacing around the house with her at all hours. Watching hours of rubbish tv. Thank goodness they had 24 hour tv then. I couldn't sleep either and our sleeping patterns would clash so generally I was very grumpy and tired a lot of the time. It was hard work. I wasn't depressed just going through being a new mum.

I managed to go back to work 3 days a week, which was about all I could cope with but I'd had to give up the comfort of contract as I couldn't work late due to my husbands working hours. It meant I wasn't going to get paid holiday and being on the bank meant if someone else put their name down for the shift I was supposed to be working I would be bumped. There was no security so I looked for another job. I got one in the community and embarked on working 3 long days a week. It was a 9-5 job but to beat traffic I left early and came home last thing after picking up my daughter from nursery. They were long days. I'd also gone on a diet to lose the weight I'd gained in pregnancy.
I was determined to be as efficient and as effective as I could as the job wasn't permanent. I started studying again too. It was a recipe for disaster.

I started to be even more exhausted and had to run my Granny around on my days off as my granddad had gone into hospital after a fall. My daughter was walking so time spent on the ward with my granddad was spent running around after her and trying to keep her occupied. The nurses asked if I could leave her with anyone whilst we visited. I couldn't, there was just me, my granny and my husband as her carers. My husband was at work and I was with my granny. I didn't want to put her in child care full time so I just had to deal with it.

By the time the weekends rolled around I was ready for a rest but then on Saturdays I was faced with cleaning the house. The pots had mounted up, there was no lie in and there was all the chores to do. And no one to help me and I was exhausted. My husband would be either having a lie in or doing his own thing. I can't really remember. I just remember feeling annoyed that he wasn't helping me. I remember nagging a lot too. It does't work. I read once that in order to get a partner you lived with to do tasks that needing doing, you needed to leave a list for them and ask them to do it. I'm not a great believer in this but it might work for you. I believe that as an adult you should be able to see what needs doing and do it to help your loved out. I'm no psychologist so don't know how mens brains work but I know they are capable of doing these things without nagging or asking or lists. I know this is normal life for a lot of people but I didn't have the energy to cope with it.

I had to look after my grannies 120 foot garden too and although she had a small front garden she had a privet hedge. That hedge was the bane of my life. I'd spend hours cleaning out her house as well as she was a bit of a hoarder and trying to grow my own veg in her garden like my granddad used to. I had phases where I was this go getting dressed up heeled professional then going to basics and wearing wellies everyday and pyjamas most of the day and going back to nature where all I could cope with was walking the dog or going for long bike rides with my dog and daughter (I had a trailer).

I guess I struggled with my identity a lot. I was friends with go getters who all ended up in high powered jobs and used to ask why I hadn't done the same. My brother wanted to know why I didn't work full time and when our daughter started school my husband thought the same. I simply couldn't do it all.

I remember begging my husband to help me with my grannies garden one weekend but he refused and went off to do his own thing. He wasn't very sociable and admitted to being intimidated by my friends that were older than him. He wouldn't visit my brother and his wife with me or my friends and we hardly ever went on holiday together. The irony was when my Granny died and we were seperated that my husband wanted to attend her funeral. My brother told me to give him a break and let him go. I didn't see the point of paying respects to a person he didn't give a shit about when she was alive.

I'd put a lot of work into my job and when we got the go ahead that the work I had done would mean the the project would continue. That's when I collapsed. I couldn't envisage keeping up the pace I had been and working harder than I already had. I was stressed to the max and tired beyond words and just wanted to be at home with my daughter.

I went off sick from my job and forced myself to finish a diploma. But then I gave in and took to my bed, around having my daughter. I relished the days when my husband had a day off work so I could go back to bed. But I started to feel vey suicidal. I thought about suicide all the time. I envisaged what I do and how I would do it. And the feelings lasted for weeks.

My journey with depression, chronic fatigue syndrome and borderline personality disorder. Part 2.

Be careful reading this it could possibly trigger some unwanted feelings.

Following my mothers death and a change of job, my BF (best friend) decided she was going travelling and their was no way she was going without me so I set about renting my house out and packing up to go. It seemed a complete turn around from spending months creating a home and buying things for it to packing it all up to go away.

I intended to go to Australia and never come back. I managed mostly quite well whilst over there. There was a lot of partying and long days working whilst we lived in Sydney. It wasn't without angst but mostly I felt in control and happy. That was until the guy I was seeing went away for christmas without me and I found I was pregnant. I started crying and could not stop.

To add to the the complications I'd had a one night stand whilst my boyfriend was away and turned out it was the one night stands baby. Despite using the morning after pill, which I was told didn't work in Australia. After I found this out I  decided I had no choice but to have a termination. Something I had been against anyone doing for years. It was my worst fear and it was happening to me and I was having to go through it. It was either that or face bringing up a child alone and I knew I wasn't capable of that.

Whatever your thoughts on abortion, please bare in mind that every circumstance is unique and individual. It was a difficult decision for me but I didn't have a choice. I had a one night stand because I got really drunk and got attention of a guy that was at the party and it seemed to ease the pain a little, temporarily. That's how I dealt with things. I would not recommend doing any other actions as a fix at all.

I didn't stop crying as we moved to Melbourne and I attended the clinic and it was all over very quickly. Then we moved to Adelaide and I was working but I was in a very bad place and my poor BF was relieved when I decided to go and stay with the guy I had been seeing in Sydney who was now living in a mining town called Kalgoorlie. I went to see a GP in Adelaide for antidepressants. He was a wonderful guy and told me that going to live with my 'boyfriend' was going to be a big mistake. I knew this in my heart and soul but I felt so relieved when he'd asked me to come and stay with him.

I stopped crying and my BF was relieved to be free of this crying mess and I got on a bus and headed to my boyfriends place where we stayed for 3 months before he decided he was going to head to Europe. Alone. I was devastated. I hung on for dear life. I followed him round like a lost child and the thought of going it alone was terrifying. I know very co-dependent. I didn't know how to deal with these feelings. They tore me up inside.

We did go our separate ways whilst I went and travelled a bit more of the coast of Australia. But I struggled and muddled along. But I managed as I had seeing my boyfriend again to look forward to. We saw each other again in Ayers Rock and spent a great time travelling a bit but he soon left again and I somehow had to pick myself up and carry on.

I eventually went back home and arranged to meet my boyfriend back at my dads house. I joined him, his sister and her best friend on a journey in a camper van round Scotland. I knew it was the wrong thing to do but I did it anyway. It was clear we weren't getting on then but we ended up in Ireland to see a guy we had been friends with and lived with in Sydney. Ireland turned out to be horrific for me.

I couldn't work as it was southern Ireland so went back to London to work for 18 days and got a terrible feeling whilst I was there. I could hardly get hold of my boyfriend and when I got back to Ireland things were very hard. Our mutual friend had picked up some photos and purposely gave them to me to look through and there was a photo of my boyfriend lip locked with our mutual friends cousin. It floored me. I was already very fragile but this was the moment of no return and I had no choice, after many arguments and drunken melt downs, I decided to leave so I headed, in a mess, back to my dads house.

I got a job again and tried to move on and my BF came back from travelling too so we shared a room in a shared house for a couple of months. I was just starting to get myself back to some semblance of normality when my ex turned up and threw the whole can of worms open again. No sooner had he turned up than he decided I wasn't what he wanted and left within a couple of days. I was once again thrown into turmoil.

I couldn't work, I couldn't stop crying. I went back to the doctor and got some anti depressants which gave me horrendous nightmares and made me feel awful so I knocked them on the head and decided to go to New Zealand. I planned it without anyone knowing. Almost like a suicide, I planned to leave without telling anyone and left notes for my dad and best friend but she knew something as wrong so I told her.

My plan was that if I was in New Zealand my ex, who was from there, would come rushing back to me as he would see how dedicated I was to him. He'd sent me a letter whilst I was in Nottingham and kind of declared his love to me. This was after he'd been to stay with me. It was a weird situation. I was convinced we were meant to be together.

Needless to say I was very down and it was very lonely place to be when you are not in a good place. You can travel all over the world and still feel lonely inside. I could not find peace at all. I was having terrible nightmares, felt dreadful and very lonely. I ended up going back to my dads again, in a lot of debt and feeling lost.

I threw myself into work and paid off my debts and felt better. There was pattern forming. Periods of feeling really down and unable to do much and crying a lot to then slowly getting back on track and elevating to going out all the time and working all hours and feeling brilliant. I didn't know it then but  I was having hypomania's. It would be years before I realised this was what was actually happening and broach the subject with mental health care team. I went on like this for years.

I felt, at this time, great. things were going really well and for the first time in my dating history, I had   several guys that were interested in me so there was no shortage of dates and fun. It's always when you are like this and content with yourself that you find someone you really like and want to be with.
I was 26 by this time so was thinking that this would be a good time to settle down.

My relationship with my husband to be flowed pretty well and we moved into my house that I rented out whilst I'd been travelling. We had only been seeing each other a few weeks when we decided to get married. He was smitten and I was bowled over. But upon moving into the house together things weren't quite as rosy as they had been or I thought they were.

My journey with depression, chronic fatigue syndrome and borderline personality disorder. Part one.

This post may be a trigger. And remember it is very individual, so take it out of it what you need and disregard what you don't.

The trouble started when I started senior school. Everything was fine until I moved to senior school. I had no mood issues, as far as I was aware, up until then. I was placed in a class of people I didn’t know except one girl. We had been friends, in a way, at primary and junior school. Sharing an interest in horse riding, she had her own horse and I would impose myself on her to get as close to her horse as I could. The relationship was fickle and not deep rooted but we knew each other, however in senior school she paid me no mind and I was more or less left on my own. 

The friends I were closer to were in a different class with a completely different timetable to mine so I had no one to sit next to in class and no one to hang around with at break or lunch time. They'd made new friends and having a hanger on wasn't an option.

I started to dread school and spent every Sunday evening crying myself to sleep as I didn’t want to go to school on Monday. I had no one to talk to about it but it was noticeable at school and my very kind form teacher asked me what the matter was. I told my form teacher only a tiny bit of the story, one problem was that I was left in the dinner hall on my own. I found it very intimidating eating on my own with a table of unknown or older kids, it got to the stage where I wouldn’t go in to the dinner hall at all and spent my lunch hour trying to find places to hide and trying not to cry.

My form teacher asked the only girl I knew in the class and her new best friend to go into lunch with me, I felt like a burden, although they were with me in the queue they never spoke to me and if I hadn’t finished my lunch they would leave without me. It didn’t solve the problem, only made it worse. 

The crying continued and I stopped eating, virtually all together. My brother was a year above me at school but he chose to ignore the very embarrassing younger cry baby sister and continued his tirade of teasing at home, the usual brother/sister stuff, not just the fact that I was a crying freak at school.

Eventually after months of tears I was moved forms to be with some of the girls I had been closer to in junior school. I was relieved but it started to cause trouble. I felt I fitted in much better in that form as there were kids from the same sort of background as me. I got close to a girl called Amy, who had become close to Lisa, my friend from junior school, and Lisa did not like it at all. She became jealous. What made it worse was that I was attracting male attention especially from a boy Lisa was smitten with. She started to turn against me and loyalties were divided. Luckily, by this time, the tears had stopped but not the last thing I wanted was my insecurity to cause friction with class mates.

Within the year things settled down amongst us, with the odd fall out, and my emotional state was less volatile however another mood descended and by the time I was 14 I had taken a blade from a pencil sharpener and started self harming. The pain was a relief from the awful empty yet disorganised feeling I felt inside. I was still prone to emotional outbursts and very dour feelings. I remember saying to a friend that I would die, one day, by committing suicide. It didn’t help that I became friends with a girl who thought being dark and moody was cool. Enter the Gothic stage.

At 15 I started going out with an older boy and felt I was madly in love. I was clingy and possessive and it didn’t sit well at all as you can imagine Although he didn’t dump me, he backed right off and I felt confused and upset. I thought I was loosing him and I was terrified. It came to a head and I ended up slashing my left wrist one night with a razor blade. One small cut about an inch across. Hardly a suicide attempt but that’s what I thought it was at the time. The nurse who attended to me in Casualty told me to talk to my Mum when I had problems. I agreed just to keep the peace but I knew I wouldn’t, I couldn’t talk to my Mum about anything.

I remember wanting to ask my Mum for a bra when I was around 12 as I was the only one still wearing vests at school. I sat with the catalogue open at the underwear page on my knee one evening for what seemed like hours. She must have known I wanted to ask her something as I kept looking at her. She ignored me. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I didn’t start my periods until I was 14, the last one of my friends, it wasn’t until then could I say anything to my Mum. I didn’t know how to approach her and tell her I had started but it was such an awful first period I had to ask for help.

To add embarrassment to the fact I had self harmed, my Dad was called back from work that night and gave me a lecture on paying more attention to school rather than boys. I wasn’t close to my Dad at all and I was mortified.

I had been to my family doctor about my feelings asking for help before my first self harming incident and at seventeen he referred me to a psychiatrist. I didn’t tell anyone I had been referred but by the time the appointment came through I had already hurt myself. I still attended the appointment though as I was still feeling vulnerable and down.

It was at a clinic about 15 miles away from my home and I drove there by myself and no-one knew. I was too embarrassed to tell anyone. Doctor Clayton was apparently a good friend of my GP so I thought I would be safe in his hands. He seemed ok but I was very nervous, he asked me a few questions about myself and my family and why I come to see him. I told him I thought I was depressed and had harmed myself, he told me that sometimes cancer can cause depression therefore he wanted to examine my breasts and asked me to take my top and bra off and lay on the coach. The examination seemed genuine but despite my naivety I knew it was wrong and I felt uncomfortable. After the examination I was very keen to leave as soon as possible and after a very short consultation of which I do not remember a great deal about other than him saying if I felt I needed to come back I would be welcome and to tell my GP.

I nodded and headed out the room at speed and did not ever return. I told no-one, not my Mum, not my GP, not my friends. If that was the treatment I got from asking for help then I didn’t want it, I would battle through on my own.

I kept my feelings under wraps from then on until I had another failed relationship around the age of 18. There was a pattern forming; time I made more of a mess but it was still self harm rather than a suicide attempt. A way of calming the churning feelings inside I had no idea how to deal with.

The scars got me no where apart from a little short lived peace, permanent scars, lack of a boyfriend, and ridicule. My mum and dad returned from a few days away, mum found me in bed and I told her what I had done, she seemed almost sympathetic. I can’t remember what she actually said but I can see her sitting on the edge of my bed looking down to me and me not able to look her in the eye as I was so ashamed.

I was in turmoil also as I was about to start training as a nurse. I had flitted from job to job not knowing what to do with myself. I hadn’t worked hard at my exams as I was pretty depressed towards the end of school and the teachers strike was on so teachers weren’t always around. I rode my bike to school, signed in, then bunked off. I remember sitting on an old stool in the kitchen crying to my mum about how crap I felt and didn’t know what to do with myself. Again, I can’t remember what she said but I don’t think it was very helpful. She wasn’t very good at counselling.

I got the sack or rather ‘let go’ from one of the jobs I did in my teens as they didn’t think I was suitable for the job in the probation time. I got one of the bosses to drop me at my Grans’ house so I wouldn’t have to face Mum. As I walked up to the house and round the back I could hear Mum’s voice and knew I’d be in trouble.

I saw a social worker at one point about things but again it didn’t really amount to any form of diagnosis or counselling.

I just thought I was mad and a bad person.

Nursing was the distraction I needed for a while although I was still suffering periods of extreme tiredness, unease and emotional instability. Mostly my moods were calmed by a new found activity of drinking. It was a big thing to do while we were training. I started drinking pints, a big step from my usual Malibu and coke! The alcohol calmed my rages and soothed my loneliness but equally exacerbated the depression up to a point where I was paralysed with emptiness. My best friend and a guy who lived in the nurses home with us tried to make me cry by plying me with cheap white wine and making me watch a sad film. I remember nothing of the film but the alcohol made us larey and we did silly things that night such as dressing up in a long blonde wig I had and taking stupid photos. It was a great night! The next day I was terribly hung over and although I drove us to work I wasn’t legal and had to ask the nurse in charge if I could go home. She wasn’t pleased but I’m sure she could see I was in a state and not fit to be there.

I ended up, a few weeks later, going back to the GP who had referred me to the pervert psychiatrist and asking, once again, for help. I was put on prozac. The same evening my best friend and I went bowling with colleagues we were on a placement with and I was off my head. I was on cloud nine. Someone had finally listened to me and done something constructive about my plight. My best friend remarked on how high I was. I thought it was great as finally the dullness of the depression had lifted.

It didn’t last long though and soon I was struggling to get out of bed again and continuing my studies was hard work.

I didn’t stay on Prozac for long as I thought it wasn’t doing a great deal and I didn’t want the stigma of being on it following me around. There was a bit of press about nurses with mental health problems not being allowed to qualify. It was the time of the Beverly Allitt killings so mental ill health in nurses was being highlighted. I hid my scars as much as I could and not taking the drugs meant I wasn’t ill. I wasn’t anything like Beverly Allitt but I didn’t want labelling as a risk because of my history.

I qualified in December 1993, on the 18^th I dislocated my knee cap. It was to be the starting point of a slide into the worst time of my life. I was having a reasonably good time up until then. I had a boyfriend and I was loving work. I had just landed a job on the ward I was on for my final placement. It was a great ward and I had a great laugh with the people I worked with. I was helping a patient get off a commode when he fell a little and I twisted to help him get on the bed rather than hitting the floor and my leg twisted round and my knee cap popped out. It took a few seconds for my brain to register the pain but when it did I hollered like a banshee.

I was put in plaster in casualty and called my Mum to come and pick me up, it was 18th December. I was still wearing the plaster at my mum’s funeral in February the following year. It led into a slide of out of control behaviour and self destruction.

I was encouraged to see someone by some concerned work colleagues. I contacted Cruise bereavement counselling. The counselling helped me get things in order in my brain and talk about issues I had surrounding Mum’s death but the counsellor told that me one day that I would go the whole day and not think about Mum and I was mortified. Terrified that would be reality. And to this day I still think of her everyday. The pictures of her face got fuzzy after a few months and I had awful dreams about her; she’d be leaving on a train and I hadn’t said goodbye or she was in hospital and I couldn’t get in to see her. I’d wake up feeling exhausted and washed out.

A few months down the line I persuaded my Dad to give me some money to put a deposit on a house from the money he got when Mum died. I thought it would be a new start. I didn’t put my current boyfriend on the mortgage, I suppose I knew it wasn’t going to last.

Despite having the house, I still felt empty, although buying stuff for the house and settling in took my mind off it for a while. I started to crave my freedom from my boyfriend and started to hang out with my immensely trendy best friend again. I’d turned into a frumpy, mumsy type and she was very rock and roll. My boyfriend and I hit the skids and when he became needy as he’d started a job he hated, I couldn’t cope with it. I know, very selfish. But I felt suffocated and wanted to let my hair down. I’d go partying with BF (best friend) and thought of myself as rock and roll as her, but I wasn’t. She was beautiful and I was neurotic. She attracted lots of male attention. I repelled it. It was frustrating. Meanwhile ex-boyfriend would be hanging around coming to mine in the middle of the night after a night out and constantly ringing my door bell, which was hooked up to the mains, so I had no choice but to let him in. Then face a couple of hour’s verbal abuse. Nowadays of course I wouldn’t stand for it and would call the police. But back then it wasn’t thought of as an option.

I started taking drugs mum had been given for pain relief as well as drinking heavily. I once won a bottle of vodka, drank a pint, neat and took a tab or 2 and cannot remember locking myself in the loo or that someone had to climb over the top to let me out. I made a complete fool of myself on the dance floor with a junior doctor I fancied but didn’t fancy me back.

Then when the drugs ran out I became very depressed but a distraction was waiting in the wings in the form of a male. My bf was house sharing with a colleague of hers and she had started seeing her house mates brother. They would come round and sit with us watching TV and drinking tea and having a laugh. I wasn’t aware that the mate fancied me as I was sort of seeing a friend of my brothers at the time, which was an awful experience, but wasn't on the look out. But somehow we got together and started seeing each other after I had ended the relationship I was sort of in. Bearing in mind this was only just over a year after Mum had died and I was going through a hypomanic phase, not that I knew that at the time though. 

He was smooth, tall, and a charmer. I fell for all the bull. My bf and his bf and us two made a good team for a while, enjoying time at my house and doing stuff together then it started to go wrong.

He had been staying at my house on his Uni holidays and one night he took me to work in my car for my night shift and was supposed to pick me up the next day. I waited and waited and he didn’t come.

I rang his Uni house and one of his house mates told me he’d overslept and was on his way. I felt reassured but not convinced. Things just didn’t seem right. One night out in town my BF, her house mate and I went for a curry and I was whinging about where he could be and my BF said ‘for god’s sake will you just shut up about it, he’s been talking to his ex and he left with her the other night when we were out’.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I thought, as I always did that, this was ‘the love of my life’. How could he do this to me?

The depression kicked in even more and I started to go downhill rapidly. Withdrawing myself from everyone and mooning over my ex and his infidelity. I hung around a lot at my BF’s digs and it got on her nerves although I thought she was being very unkind and insensitive, it must have been a pain for her, having this mooching, sad sack around all the time.

She was going to say goodbye to her boyfriend, my ex’s best mate for the summer and said I could go with her as long as I didn’t moan about them snogging or talk about the ex. That was the turning point for me. I headed home and buried my head. I rang in sick and took an overdose. I wrote some crap about love and devastation in my diary and rang a friend/colleague when I became very drowsy and got scared. They took me to accident and emergency, where luckily my friend/colleagues doctor boyfriend was on duty. They made me drink charcoal and stay in for the night. Ironically I was put in the same bay as my Mum had been in when she had been admitted to hospital. I was freezing and daren’t ask for a blanket as I thought the nurses would not be nice to me after what I had done. It was still very much stigmatised to OD, especially over your boyfriend splitting up with you. I had heard many nurses/colleagues mocking overdoses or suicide attempts brought in especially when it involve the person having been dumped by a boyfriend. Females tend to overdose whereas males tend to try hangings or poisoning by exhaust fumes. 

I remember being depressed before my Mum died and thinking ‘I wish I had something to be depressed about then no-one can judge me’. They say be careful what you wish for as I got my Mum’s death in return.

I could not handle the rejection and my thoughts of his betrayal were whizzing round my head. I couldn’t think straight. I can’t remember being seen by the self harm team, maybe I was but I just wanted to put it behind me and carry on. I just wanted to be normal.

Self harming often resets the way I feel and takes away the turmoil even though I know it’s all wrong. It resets the way I think and feel and I was back on an even keel again, ready to face the next chapter.

Coping with suicidal feelings of a loved one.

Having a loved one suffering form suicidal feelings can be distressing, exhausting both mentally and physically and confusing. If you have never experienced any kind of feelings like this it can be hard to understand and comprehend. Its difficult to describe these feelings to someone who has never experienced them.

From personal experience the feeling can be like a pit of blackness. A very dark and painful place. Suicidal feelings can lead to physical pains and feelings. A heaviness that is impossible to shake off. It's debilitating and robs us of all feelings other than feeling dreadful. It can leave a person unable to move and confined to bed. It can go hand in hand with physical illness and the two can be confused as to which came first.

Depending on the circumstances of your loved ones illness, depends on how to approach helping them. But generally speaking offering a supportive and caring environment is the least you have to do. Some people may find this a challenge as they fail to see where the suicidal loved one is coming from but all you need to do is not try to understand but offer a safe and supportive place where your loved one can feel sheltered from the outside world, which may be a very scary place when feeling so vulnerable.

Offer love and affection if they can cope with it but do not withhold it as a punishment because you lack understanding of the feelings. The same goes the other way, do not force affection on someone if they feeling vulnerable. You may think of course no one would do that but it has been known and can lead to further feelings of inadequacy and anger.

Encourage the sufferer to self care or help with their care. Wash, brush teeth, run them a bath, offer to wash their hair for them. This may seem as making the sufferer take on a child like role but when feeling utterly helpless the last thing they could be capable of is self care. Depression and suicidal feelings are part of an illness. If your loved one had cancer or a chronic physical illness you would do the same for them with a blink of the eye. Depression can be very physically debilitating and lack of self care can lead to further feelings of inadequacy.

Talk openly with your loved one. Encourage them to open up about their feelings. They may be painful for you to hear and cope with but you are in a greater position to deal with them than the sufferer. If you are finding it hard to deal with what you have been told then find an avenue of help. It could be writing a journal, counselling, talking to a confident or your GP. But be careful who you share your story to, you are very vulnerable as well and you need to find help in the right place but equally do not hold your feelings in. It can be very hurtful to yourself to allow that to happen.

Telling the sufferer how they are making you feel may help them realise that they need to get help and that you are suffering too, however, it may be a hard confession for them to deal with. Only you will be able to gage when is an appropriate time to share that you are suffering also. Therefore it may be more appropriate to seek counselling yourself rather than burden the sufferer even more.

Gently remind the sufferer of the good things in life. How much they are loved by their family and friends. But don't tell them they are selfish feeling the way they do for thinking of ending their own lives. It will only serve to make them feel worse. Reminding them they are loved isn't a ploy at 'snapping them out of it'. It's just to get them to see a little light in the darkness. But be aware it can make them feel even more guilty that they feel that way. It is a case of treating every situation and individual as unique.

Go to their appointments with them if they are having therapy. If they are happy for you to accompany them. You don't have to sit in the room with them as therapy is a very private and personal experience but if you have the time and they appreciate the sentiment, go with them.

The whole experience can be just as exhausting for you. So make sure you take care of yourself. Don't feel guilty about doing something for yourself. If your loved one is expressing that they want to hurt themselves then you cannot physically be there 24/7 to stop them doing what they feel compelled to do. You are the wall between them and the outcome but if they are determined they will do it anyway. You cannot take responsibility for that. They need professional help and maybe even hospitalisation. Be prepared that a hospital stay may be needed. It is nothing to be ashamed of. It could save your loved ones life.

If your loved one is obsessing over suicidal ideation then action needs to be taken. Encourage the person to seek help immediately as it is out of your realms of capability to ensure their safety. If you find them actively hurting themselves you can call emergency services or get them to the nearest emergency room as soon as possible.

Keeping objects of potential harm out the way can prevent a knee jerk reaction to hurting themselves but not always practical. With the best will in the world you cannot remove everything out of the way. If this is the case then they need to be in hospital on suicide watch. People can find ways to hurt themselves in the unlikeliest objects even if they are on suicide watch. If you find that you cannot cope with the situation anymore then seek help immediately before you become depressed yourself. It's quite possible you can suffer from reactionary depression due the stress and pressure you may feel under keeping everything together.

Just know that none of it is your fault and it's not your loved ones fault either. And suicidal feelings do not last. They may come and go but they don't last forever.

Do whatever you can to look after yourself and do not feel guilty about self care. It may only be needed for a short while. Have a massage or go out for coffee with a good friend, whatever it takes to make yourself feel good and better about the situation. It is your right be happy and healthy.

Coping with Grief.

It's taken me a while to write this post as a good friend of mine is suffering at the moment with the loss of a very close family member and anything I thought about writing seemed inadequate. But then I came across this photo this morning......

It summed up basically what I'd be trying to say in a nut shell.
I also wanted to share some advice, if you like about coping with the pain of grief. It's a difficult subject so I'll be as sensitive as I can be without hopefully patronising. Please don't take the things I write as being condescending, just take things from it that you find useful and ignore what you don't.
Please note that if you are experiencing grief for the loss of a child then this advice will probably not be helpful, it's a very sensitive area and I've not experience that type of grief so feel inadequate to offer advice on this.

It's hard to blanket advise anyone whose loved one has died because every death and grief is unique. Unique to person, time place, circumstances and cause.  People can sometimes blame themselves for the death such as not doing something sooner or making them go to the doctor earlier, the truth is you cannot be responsible for this. Unless you physically hurt the person who died then you are not responsible for their death. Adults are their own people and are responsible for their own health. You can only hope that if you ask someone you love you are concerned about to seek help, that they will. You could not have dragged them to the doctors and even then there may be a list of inadequacies even if they did seek help, it can be out of your hands as to getting the right treatment at the right time. All you can ever have done is be supportive and helpful.

My mums treatment was a catalogue of errors but even if they had found the cancer earlier she would not have survived. I did complain about the lax attitude of the GP but I was young and naive and didn't handle it right. If there are inadequacies and errors in the treatment of your loved one then by all means pursue and complain, health care inadequacies don't get sorted unless people complain. But make sure you are in a place emotionally and mentally where you are able to tackle it and cope with the stress it may cause. It might a actually be the thing you need to help you cope.

If you feel guilt because you didn't have an active part in the life of the loved one before they died then there is no room for it in your life now. You cannot change what happened, so feeling guilt over what you could've done is wasting valuable energy you need to be able to live in the here and now. Find a way to cope with the feeling of guilt and let it go. I envisage it as a ball sitting in my solar plexus and I imagine I take the ball in my hands and push it out and away from my body and believe I have gotten rid of it and put up a shield that it doesn't come back. If that sounds a but too new age for you, although it really works, then try reasoning.

Reasoning relies on the truth. Looking at the truth of the matter can release us from the burden of guilt.

Ask yourself these questions.

Could you change the situation?
No, because it's in the past and you cannot change the past. It's gone, there is nothing you can do about it.

Is it true that the person died because you were ineffective or inactive? No, because the person is their own person and responsible for their own health and care. If you weren't there when they were sick and dying then there must have been a reason for this. Again you can't change what happened all you can do is learn from it and change any future behaviour.

Do you believe you omitted or neglected to do something for the person whilst sick of dying or did something that expedited their death? Is this absolutely true? 100%? No, it is not because you are not that powerful as to stop death in it's tracks. One thing in the grand scheme of things will not have changed the outcome. Did your actions expedite the death? If it was an act of kindness and not harm then your actions were not responsible for the death coming sooner. Someone once said to me they felt guilty for rolling their dad over because he was uncomfortable and in pain yet he died whilst she was doing it and she felt her actions caused his death. It didn't, she did the best thing she could for her father at that point and that was what he wanted. Death was inevitable. No one could have stopped that.

Do you feel guilty you weren't there when the person died? Every situation is different but maybe you didn't need to be there when they died? Maybe the person who was dying chose to die when you weren't there to witness it? There is no way of knowing what a dying person is thinking and it may sound bizarre to think a dying person could chose when they want to die. No one will ever know if this is capable in reality but take comfort in that perhaps you weren't meant to be there. You were in the right place at the right time, right where you needed to be.. A friend said she felt guilty when her loved one died and she wasn't there but she was home taking care of her loved ones children so their father could go to the hospital and be with his wife. What a great honour and privilege of taking care of the ladies precious babies for her. That's exactly what she would have wanted.

Thinking of a relative or friend dying at home alone is horrific but you were not to know they were going to die at that time, unless they were seriously ill, in which case you would probably be by their side. If it was an elderly relative who wasn't ill and they died as a result of a fall or similar then you could not have done anything unless you were with them 24/7, which isn't possible or practical.


Anger is another part of grief. And it's justified. So go with it, within reason. Directing and dealing with the anger is the issue. Anger should not be dealt with by reckless behaviour such as drinking, drugs, promiscuous sex or overspending. We all know it's destructive, solves nothing and can create more problems. I'm guilty of doing it in the past. All it created was debt, hangovers, more guilt and unhappiness. Facing anger head on can be a huge undertaking so you need to find ways that suit you to be able to cope with it. In the midst of all that's going on finding something to appease the anger is tricky.

Finding a non destructive way for helping with anger, not controlling as such but letting it out can be difficult but not impossible. We lose track of boundaries and control methods when angry. Anger might well be a very new concept for you too. So where and what do we do with it?

Firstly, it's a part of grief and has to be gone through, both avoiding and prolonging anger is incredibly hurtful to the body and psych so sometimes you just need to go with it. Deferring it to a time and place that is more conducive to letting it out isn't always possible so if you find yourself in a position where something or someone is winding you up then remove yourself from the situation. Use all your strength to not explode at the person or situation and find a place to go let off steam, whether it be crying or just calming down away from anyone.

Physical exercise is a good way of getting rid of the build up of stress and tension in a body. It can be running, cycling, yoga, swimming or whatever you feel able and comfortable to do. Walking a dog in the country can be very good for the soul. Getting a massage can release a lot of tension and acupuncture can help a body deal with stress and anger. Grief counselling can also help even if it seems like a waste of time, speaking your feelings can be a release of tension and help dissipate anger. Talking about what makes you angry can be very therapeutic and help dissipate it.

And again if the thing that seems to be helping helps then do not feel guilt about spending time and money on it. It's very important to take care of self. I cannot stress that enough. If money is tight and you are paying for therapies then be frugal in other areas of your life to avoid getting into money trouble as well.

Emotional pain is an extremely difficult burden to carry. It messes with our head, our beliefs, our psych, our bodies and our hearts. It's like carrying a ball of concrete. It exhausts us, there is no tablet for it, it robs us of joy. How do we deal with it?

As described above, we need to look after ourselves first and foremost. Self care is incredibly important. Again, it's something that has to be endured and not shut away. Sometimes distraction is a great tactic for dealing with things we are enduring and we need a break from it but do not try and drown out the pain as it will only end up hurting you more in the long run. Allow yourself to do nothing, be unconstructive, sleep or do whatever it takes. Sometimes doing nothing is the best option.

Give in to it. If you can cry then cry. If you feel like you cannot stop crying then go with it. You'll stop eventually. Sometimes it comes when you really don't need it, again find somewhere you can go and have that cry. If it's in the workplace then telling your employer what you are going through, no matter how private you are, is needed. You don't have to tell them everything, just that you are struggling from the time being and need some leniency. It's not too much to ask of them. If you meet opposition and find it difficult to cope at work and can take time off then do it. It's you who is suffering, no one else. Put yourself first for the time being. Take time out and regroup. It may take a long time, or a couple of days might be all you need. It's your journey, no one else's. And it's not an admission of weakness. It takes a strong person to realise when they need to take time out.

Practicing gratitude at this time will probably seem like the last thing you want to do. Losing a loved one can be the single most devastating time in our lives. But being thankful for very small things from having a time and a place to cry to the fact you had the loved on in your life. This may seem contradictory but there is nothing that can be done to bring the loved one back and the fact they will miss future things in life will be a very bitter pill to swallow but practicing gratitude can be a very powerful and liberating.

Grief is atrocious. There's no two ways about it. It has to be endured and dealt with. It has to be carried and weighs us down until we are on our knees but it is not the end of your life. It can be overcome and it can be lived with. We just have to find a way through it, the best we can. As superficial as it sounds we are needed and valued others, whatever our circumstances.

Suicidal feelings do rear their ugly heads at the the most vulnerable times in our lives. They can come all the time and we may reach out and get talked down from that leap but the next day is the same. Not wanting to bother friends or family with these feelings can be a hurdle. That's where professional help can be of benefit. I've been there many times and somehow I have gotten through them. They have been my dark shadow for weeks on end at a time and fighting the urge has sometimes seemed impossible and I have given in to the feelings and looked for a way out. It only bought me further suffering and didn't heal anything. It's not the answer.

You may have never experienced suicidal feelings ever in your life before and they can be overwhelming. Just know, they do stop. They are an all consuming emotion but they do stop.

If you think you might be depressed or someone suggests it to you and it's been going on for a while then action is needed. Remember what I said about every adult being responsible for their own health? This includes mental health. It can be hard to find help but keep looking. I found great help in my acupuncturist. I couldn't find the help I needed with my GP or mental health services, although they weren't exactly unhelpful,  it just wasn't meant to be for me and you need to find a way for yourself. Researching, trying things out, reaching out to people. Be mindful that some things you try and some people may not be helpful and you may feel like giving up. Please don't just focus in your mind and heart that something will come along that will help ease the pain.

Bare in mind if you do receive counselling or help, that you are very vulnerable and if you feel like it's making you worse or conflicting your recovery then please stop the activity. Be careful who you tell your story to or offload on. Some people can be vultures at this time and prey on the vulnerable to their own ends and it's difficult to see these people for what they really are when grieving. If you feel someone has good intentions but you don't feel comfortable confiding in them, then don't and once again, do not carry that guilt. Take it and push it away, it's not another burden you need so don't own it.

As the photo says, their is no grief without having loved. It's the price we pay for having loved ones in our lives. But it's so much better to have loved and lost.

Be brave.Take care of you.