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My Mental Illness

Posted by Meeoko from Vale Of Glamorgan - Published on 18/05/2010 at 17:27
5 comments » - Tagged as Education, Health, People, Topical

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Yn Gymraeg

Statistics show that one in four of us suffers from a mental illness.

I have mixed feelings about telling you that I am 19-years-old and part of that one in four.

It all seemed to begin when I was 12-years-old. I was a rather unusual child, seeming to feel emotions far more strongly than other children and indulging in odd behaviour.

I remember once as a child I was playing with a young boy in my primary school and we were making mud pies on the school field. My teachers seemed to think this rather odd of me and it was occurrences like these that made me a prime target for bullying.

Unfortunately, kids can be cruel and eventually that young boy was driven out of the school by bullies. I never saw him again. Things seemed to get a little worse each day in primary school and I would often spend time alone talking to my imaginary friend, Wheelie The Dog. The bullies thrived on my behaviour and I was alienated from the other children.

I figured that once I went to comprehensive school everything would become better, as I’d be around far more mature and what I dubbed as kinder people. Unfortunately for me, I was wrong about the maturity of the school kids at comp and the first year opened my eyes to the behaviour of certain people.

There was so much to take in and soon, after more continuous bullying, lots of homework and the pressures of becoming a teenager, I developed depression. My mother asked for me to be put on medication for it, but the doctor denied her request, telling her that I was far too young to be subjected to prescription drugs.

It started off small. Little things that built up into much larger things. Things like bunking off assembly to go and have a cigarette instead, or stealing chocolate bars from shops and becoming somewhat of an introvert. But things got a lot worse in 2003 when I was 13. I was abused by a family member. Whilst waiting for the months to pass leading up to the impending court case against my abuser, I began self harming.

Sadly the story of my abuse got out and suddenly the whole school knew. People would whisper as they went past me. Some sniggered. I began getting into fights, losing sleep and having awfully real night terrors. I went to psychiatrists, doctors, a team that works with children named CAHMS and even a Community Psychiatric Nurse.

My sadness and repression began to turn into hate and I knew I needed to do something about it. Unfortunately, instead of doing the sensible thing and going to my parents, the school or even ChildLine for help, I decided that I would ask for help from a higher power.

Since the bullying had begun, I’d become somewhat of a ‘goth’, a ‘mosher’ or ‘emo’ in my muddled up state. Some people turn to God, but I had a rather rocky relationship with Him at the time. I decided to turn to the occult (more commonly known as black magic). (Since then, I’ve come to terms with the fact that not everything is God’s fault though.)

I spent the night chanting, lighting black candles and donating blood to the occult, wishing down on my enemies and for happiness to finally find me. It sounds rather dramatic, I know, but at the time, I was inconsolable. And I suppose in a way, I got my wish. I found the love of my life, my current fiancé, who I’m getting married to in 2011. But that came with a terrible price. A price that I’m still paying to this day.

It was summer in 2005 and I was skipping school, heading home and I heard heavy footsteps and panting behind me, as if someone were running. I moved aside without looking back, assuming it was a jogger. But when nobody came past, I heard it again. The breathing was so shallow I could almost hear the person’s bones rattle. It was chilling.

Finally, curiosity got the best of me and I turned around, but what I saw was far from a jogger, but something else entirely. I stopped breathing for a second, blinking hard to try to make it disappear. But when I opened my eyes again, there it was, still the same.

It was a horrible looking creature that words cannot describe. The creature stood on two legs like a human, but had leathery white naked skin and hunched over as if it were in pain. I noticed it had no fingers or toes, but just stumps and its face was almost covered by long dark, greasy strands of hair. The only thing I can really link its face to is a proboscis monkey, which has a very large nose that hangs over most of its mouth.

It had eyes, but no pupils, no iris, nothing. They were just white, a blank canvas, like staring into nothingness. But I knew it was looking at me.

For days I tried to ignore it, but everywhere I went it was there. Every time I saw it, I shivered. One day when I was reading a book, it stood in front of me and in a harsh, gravelly voice, it introduced itself as Malakai. I was shocked to see that not only was I seeing things, but hearing them too.

Since then, I’ve had more hallucinations and been diagnosed with psychosis, which is somewhat similar to schizophrenia and borderline personality disorder. I’ve experienced a vast collection of characters, some friendly, some not, including a mirror image of myself. I’ve also been admitted to a mental hospital to receive treatment.

These illnesses affected me and my loved ones throughout my teenage and adult life, forcing me to quit school before my GCSEs. But slowly, I find that I’m beginning to cope with it.

If I were to give advice to anyone suffering from some similar illness, be it psychosis or even the flu – nothing can be done until you seek help and affective treatment. Medication for example can filter out the unpleasant bits of the illness and eventually (if you take said medication consistently) you begin to notice a difference in yourself and feel better, although medication is only a part in my recovery.

Luckily for me, I have incredibly supportive parents and they have encouraged me to do confidence-building activities - attending a stage school named Stagecoach, learning singing, dancing and drama. It increased my confidence tenfold. I also had a go at learning a musical instrument and did performances.

I cannot stress enough how much it can help you to just tell somebody about what you’re going through, be it your parents, friends, a helpline or even a councillor. Simply talking or writing about the ordeal made a vast difference. My friends and family have all been wonderfully supportive and patient with me.

If you need an little bit of extra help, there are lots of websites out there too such as childline or expression websites that allows you to write experiences about your own life, your dreams, your hopes – anything. Getting things off your chest can often make the difference between life and death and I urge anyone who is suffering in silence to get out there and tell someone what’s happening.

Although I’m not employed at the moment, I’m slowly getting over my illness and learning to live with it. I’ve gotten a little dog named Bandit, who helps me to get up in the morning and get out of the house, I’m living with fiancé and learning to keep a healthy, clean household and have regular contact with all of my family and friends.

I haven’t self harmed for a whole year now and very rarely experience voices or images, though they’re not completely gone. I only regret that I didn’t take the proper action sooner, when I had the chance. In the long run, it would have saved me and my family a lot of grief.

But for any young person suffering from mental illness, please know that you’re not alone and that there are ways you can be heard.