A true path follows no plan…

So, I’m seeing a lot around, especially on Facebook, telling us it’s officially Mental Health week, all about the societies who help and generally giving the message that it’s ok to talk about it these days!! So let’s talk….

I’ve known people throughout my life who have had their “MH” issues, and I continue to meet people, including just recently, a lovely lady on holiday in Rhodes. Isn’t it funny that sometimes we can be so comfortable opening up and talking about our problems and struggles with someone we just met, more than our family and friends? I do believe that, inevitably, those closest to you will realise when there’s a change in you, when you’re suffering. And when you’re ready, eventually, you’ll talk about it. BUT, until then you’ll keep painting the fake smiley face on and repeating the mantra “I’m fine / It’s ok” or “there’s people worse off than me…” or “nothing’s wrong, I’m just in a world of my own….”

I won’t bore you with every single detail of the situations I have found myself in and the experiences I have had over the years, which were probably all a contributing factor to my “breaking point” last year. That would truly send you all to sleep!! I’ll try and keep it brief but I want to share something, after all this blog is a diary of sorts and this is my entry of thoughts for today –

About 4 years ago I decided to stay and make a life in Australia. I searched endlessly, applied for dozens of jobs and eventually found an employer willing to support me on a visa until I became a resident. It was supposed to be simple – work with them for 2 years, become a resident, then move on to where I’d really like to be, doing what I truly loved, without, most importantly, any ties or conditions. I am a typical Gemini (if you believe in that) and I hate, absolutely hate, being tied down and dependent on anyone or anything. It didn’t turn out to be that simple though. Remember, a true path follows no plan…..

Four years, two idiot employers, one bad tempered, violent ex, several crappy housemates (some good), friends made and forgotten, money worries, visa stresses, bullying in work, threats to withdraw paperwork, a bad accident at work, the period known as “The Meltdown”, doctors, counselling, other types of assistance, a broken wrist at work, and then finally, residency came!!!!

It all happened very quickly in the end. It was my birthday, then the next day I got the cast off my arm, next day I was informed I was a resident and day four, yep, you guessed it, RESIGNATION! Boom! Lift off! I could not wait to get away from the place and everything it reminded me off.

Residency came about 6 months after my lowest point ,and six weeks after breaking my wrist at work, which in hindsight was a blessing in disguise, as it gave me some much needed time away from the place. Seven weeks after resigning, breaking lease on my rental house, packing up my home, literally one handed as the wrist still wasn’t working, cleaning the place from top to bottom to get my full bond back (with the help of some fab friends) finding a storage unit and filling it with “my life” I was on a plane back to visit friends, family, new additions to the family and a special reunion with someone I’d not seen for several years. FULL ON!

The last 4 years have taken their toll on me. Physically I am relatively fit and healthy, thankfully. Mentally, and emotionally, I feel like I’ve done 10 rounds with Rocky! Three years of the past 4 were a slow build up, like a pressure cooker, until I finally burst and that period known as “The Meltdown” happened. For me personally, it took to get to the point where I couldn’t talk about what was happening or how I was feeling without crying and sobbing, until things started to change. Now, if you know me, I am generally a softy, and cry at a lot of things, but this was different. This was uncontrollable. I would have to run to the loos at work and have a cry, then splash my face and hope it didn’t look like I’d been weeping. I felt sick all the time. I’d have all these different scenarios going on in my head about what people were saying and thinking and doing. That kind of thing. It took the love and support of some very special friends, and a big step from me, to seek the help I needed at that time. The words Anxiety, Stress and Depression were ones I never really understood, and sometimes mocked in my younger years. But, somehow, those things had happened to me. Every day I would wake up, tired after being awake until some silly early hour, when my mind would eventually stop ticking over, and I’d feel fine for the first few seconds after waking, then this wave of nausea would creep up, I’d lie there until the very last minute, not wanting to get up, then somehow make myself go to work. I would tell myself “there’s people worse off than you, get on with it” “I have my health, just deal with the rest” And yes, that was true, but when you’re in those dark moments, and you think you’re being totally rational, when really to others you’re being completely irrational with your thoughts and actions, it doesn’t really help to keep telling yourself those things. It helps by sharing. Talking to people you trust and know, or if it’s easier someone you don’t know, but who can help. And it WILL help. It’s Mental Health week – GO TALK!

I thought I was doing OK a few months after “The Meltdown” but a close friend, who had become my partner, and had been one of only a few people to see me on the bottom, didn’t keep his promise and let me down more than he will ever understand. Another friend made and forgotten. I have talked over and over again with my close friends about the last few years, they have been an absolute blessing (and must have been bored to death by the broken record!) I have talked with a counsellor, I saw the doctor several times, and slowly, but surely, I am feeling brighter, happier and more together in my head than I have in a long time. I know I have a way to go, but one of the best decisions I have made recently, to help me get back to the old me, was staying on the Islands after Nic went home. No one else here truly knows me. There is only me, myself and I. And it is only I that can truly make me happy.

Sitting on this tiny Island of Telendhos today has brought a little more clarity to me, about where I’m headed. A conversation with a woman in the hotel yesterday helped too. She said something which made me really think about my future. Whilst she looked out at the view of crystal clear waters and bright skies and sunshine she said – “It’s no good being in paradise without anyone who loves you and cares, I’d rather be with those people I love, and who love me and support me, than anywhere else”. I am very lucky as I have a small group of beautiful, loyal friends, dotted around all over the place, who I can trust and call on. They too, know I’ll be there for them. A few of these special friends, who have been there for me through these recent darker times, include an adopted Mam and Dad who have given me advice and love and a home countless times. They don’t have a spare room, it’s known as my room! Then there’s the lass I knew as a baby and grew up with until we were parted for different schools and colleges and life. We then found each other again in Australia, and knowing and understanding where we are both from, and what it’s all like, is priceless. And then there’s the “Roomie, Mate, Friend and Flatmate”. I love her like a sister. She is my bestie. She has stuck by me through thick and thin, good and bad, happy and sad, and sometimes unforgivable behaviour. I would be there for her at the drop of a hat, whenever she needed me, and I know she would do the same. And I miss her. And the Lass from home. And the adopted parents. And although they all have their own families and friends and lives going on, and I have my own family who I love, it would be nice to see more of them and hangout. Watch out Eastside 😉

And if all else fails, a kebab, vino and a good sunset all help!!