Sexual abuse and mental illness
Hi, I'm 38, and inspired to tell my story here by the creator of this magnificent webpage...thank you!!
I guess I should start with my earliest memories about abuse. I believe it started at 4, by people I mostly do not have any any idea who they were. But it involved men and women swapping me. I remember one man holding me upside down as he was standing, and you can probably guess what was involved with that. Then with other adults I always was given my favourite treats at the end...cola and a chocolate bar. I don't know why I took comfort in that. I remember never telling anyone, because, as they said, something would happen to my mother. It was enough for me to keep quiet. A teacher at a school would have me "scratch" my privates, as she took photos. I was also bullied at school for being different. I could go from being very outgoing and chatter non stop, to complete silence. About 7 I started seeing things and hearing commands, at that time they didn't seem unreal or even that scary, being told to hold in your spit then spit it out in front of adults, no rhyme or reason, but I never questioned anything.
By high school I was totally wrong, I'd become anorexic and enjoyed it (shame I became obese by 19!), not for attention, I guess it was something for me to focus on other.
I think 18 I was put on antidepressants and at 19 hospitalisation, one of many.
ive done so many od's since, they are in the triple figures. Sometimes very serious because I'd managed to store up, other just as serious but not life threatening as they were something I'd not decided to do, but something or someone had brought me to thinking I needed to die. I've now been diagnosed as having bpd, depression and bipolar.
I've been in many situations where a crisis team would have a member, or members that were nothing but a users. Even some nurses at hospital, because self harm or suicide attempts are seen as trying to garner attention, this is not the case, at least not for us genuine people. Yes, even some people in "normal" hospitals can be horrid. Last year I pulled my hair out in a psychiatric ward.
Ive found solace other people detained, or my knitting scarves for the homeless, and my "musical blog" where I rant and rave or am I'm happy but I make sure to add videos to each post when my words can't explain exactly how I feel.
Thing is, I'm still not where I want to be in life. I can't control my emotions as good as a few months ago. But I have a lovely frind who always makes me laugh, as well as many more who support me and say they love me. I love them too, but I am have been so used to rejection that I try not to be anyone's burden. One day, life will be great, the next down. If I'm lucky I can have a few weeks or couple of months extremely happy, buy my mind races and I can't sleep. Other times, this depression is too much. I live for those who dare to love me, those in need if I can help, I know knitting scarves isn't much but it's all I can do, and like I read somewhere, and I hope this helps anyone who reads this:
I went outside to find a friend but could not find one there. I went outside to BE a friend, and friends where everywhere.
Please remember sometimes it takes courage, but we can help people by not only sharing our stories, but by "just" being there.
Written by Lizzie Davies