“By the end of rehab, I was a drop of my former self, empty from life’s cruel injustices. I had fought tooth and nail not to be shipped off to a remote residential house located 25km outside my local town with no transport, no friends or facilities there, nothing just two elderly people in armchairs. Could they really send a 27-year-old girl to that place? I imagined myself dying there or worse, going mad. As a result, of my continued starvation in the hospital because of increased stress levels to the point of peg feed treats, I bought myself time and a resultant place in a Cheshire congregated setting, a ten-bedroomed home in a red brick building in a town setting (the best outcome I could hope for in my position). Here in a small bedroom, with a kitchen sink, my own bathroom and a drop of my former independence, I am given times for getting up, showering, meal times etc like a prisoner except in my case a prisoner of my body. Night times no longer bother me as I drift off into a euphoric world with the help of two sleeping tablets and multiple anti-anxiety pills. But mornings come too fast and hard and every day like ground hog day the harsh reality becomes even more apparent. For a split second, before I open my eyes I imagine myself jumping out of bed and going for a brisk morning jog in the crisp fresh air. Then I realise where I am and see the night drainage urinary bag attached to the tube coming from my bladder before waiting a few moments before taking a deep breathe and pressing the buzzer. The assistant call button signalling I’m ready to start my gruelling two-hour daily morning routine, 365 days a year”.
Sounds like something from a horror movie or a book but in fact this was my first attempt at writing my story; I wrote this paragraph over three years ago and forgot about it until I found it a few days ago. I had written it roughly two months after I left the hospital and I know it is a very grim and morbid piece but my intentions for sharing it are of quite the opposite nature. It is an extremely hard piece for me to read and even harder for me to share. At that time, I was in a very low place and had a lot of pain in my heart; I was going through a grieving process almost like a death but it’s true time is a healer for all things. I don’t think your mind ever fully accepts the pain but you learn to cope. When I think about this piece, in the context of my life now, as its starting to blossom and doors of opportunity are opening up once again, I feel relieved that I’ve moved past that phase of my life; coming out a stronger and braver individual. For those going through a hard time no matter what it is know that the pain will pass, things will get progesively better; just give it time. So I cannot emphasize enough that in this instance, my principal motivation for sharing this paragraph is strength, take strength from each others strengths.