Thank you all so much for your support- today I realised I had 100 followers! Amazing…
So last night I was talking to my auntie. She means a lot to me- she has been there for me since I admitted I was depressed way back in May. I had an amazing tea with her, and she helped me talk about how I was feeling back when I was finding communication impossible. Last night was no exception. She wanted me to talk about the psychologist… so I did.
I told her pretty much everything and then I got to the bit with the flashbacks, and needing to see a specialist. Telling her about the voices was easy, but she wanted to know why I might be seeing a specialist.
So, we went into a different room, and I told her.
I was in floods of tears. I get choked up whenever I have to even think the word, and telling an auntie who I have known and loved for years was so surreal. I felt detached and agonisingly in the moment.
Even harder? When Mum came in and asked why I was crying.
So I told her. In hysterics, barely able to get a word out. I was waiting for her to blame herself, waiting for her to feel awful about it… She folded me in a huge hug, and I felt another hand stroking my hair.
Yep, my dad had heard me crying and had come to find out what was going on.
So I told him too.
Telling someone three times in one night left me physically and mentally exhausted. I was so tired talking to J on the phone, and I told Y and my friend R who lives in London.
Now, I have my family behind me. Now, I know that if I wake crying in the middle of the night after a nightmare, or a sensory hallucination, or a visual one, they will understand. I can feel free to tell my mum, auntie or dad about why I suddenly panic around strange men, or why I have to snap a band on my wrist occasionally.
I feel liberated. I feel calmer. I feel ready to start a war in my head against the bastard demons that hurt me and make me hate myself. I will not let them win.