ENGLAND COAST PATH BLOG
Mental health & us
10th June 2014 was when I got the phone call. I was having a routine scan when I heard Grant was in A&E, he had an accident at work;200kg steel bar landed on his foot. The following day he had a partial amputation of his big toe and later that evening Alba was born due to my severe high BP.
The weeks following were a blur and it wasn't long before the black cloud had found a home above Grant. Anxiety had been my friend for many years before this,but for Grant this was new. He visited the GP. Antidepressants. Self harm. Suicidal thoughts.
3 months was his first psychiatric hospital admission;4 weeks.
Over the first 2 years of Alba's life the cloud followed and a further 2 admissions to our second home. He got his first set of diagnosis during this time.
We visited daily, celebrated all the birthdays in there. Community and home visits. Community mental health team became family.
It was a fight each admission to self admit him, to get him the help he desperately needed and was entitled too. MDT meetings, medication, mental health struggles. Suicide attempts and operations to fix the physical damage. Dissociation. Psychosis.
Around the end of November 2016 the cloud was darker. Hello second home. This time was different. Section 2 into 3. Hello a new hospital and then another ,our final home for over 2 years.
More diagnosis. Therapy, so much therapy. Reduction of medication. Community visits. Tribunals. Mental health teams. Improvement. Time.
2018 :Discharge came after months of rehabilitation, home visits ,weekend stays. Intense community mental health support. 7/6/18 we got married. Alba turned 5 just 4 days later.
We spent the following year healing. You can't fix a broken brain but you can learn to adapt. Coping strategies. DBT skills. Functioning. Adaptation.
11/11/19 Grant got a new job. Monumental. Something we never thought would happen.
2020&2021 Alba started her community projects ,she started to advocate and use her voice. Raising over £6400 to date and still going. She wants to change the way people see mental health. She wants people to talk.
The cloud dissipated, it lingers. Because it can't be fixed.
And that's okay.
I stopped giving a shit a while ago
About what people think or when they stare or judge. About how we raise Alba. Our parenting. On others opinions.
On all of it.
Because when you step back and watch. Allow them to do the things that make them happy, like truly happy. That make them belly laugh and roll in puddles. And save the Earth with their litter picking and save 100s of snails and bugs and bees.
And to express themselves and to really completely fly. To forget their struggles, their differences and difficulties and just be the kid that is totally ecstatic to be covered in mud soaked to the bone.
That's pretty magical.
Are you coming back?
For many years Alba knew routines of hospital visits,of home visits or when Grant was home she knew he was there.
But a few years ago he started working again and this set off a pattern of separation anxiety. Where's he gone? Is he coming back? How long will he be? It brought a host of physical and mental upset. This also transferred into me leaving her. It's ongoing.
We have a number of tools we use that help Alba and I'd like to introduce you to a pair of them. Meet Daddy Knight & Mummy Jamas.
Daddy knight came along first. When her dad's at work,out with friends or shopping or anything along comes Daddy Knight. She later begged for a mummy version and along I came.
These sleep with Alba each night. She takes them all of. She uses them as comfort when we physically aren't here. They're used alongside other tools also.
It's not about feeding the anxiety but learning tools to better manage it.
We bought them from British Made Gifts!
Perfectly camouflaged
Before home education Alba went to school. She was the kid in the corner. The kid always making sure everyone around her was having fun. She wore a smile. She laughed. Academically she was and is beyond her years. She ticked boxes. She would come home covered in stickers for her behaviour. The teachers would say she's had a great day. They'd say how great she did doing something in class.
Leaving the playground the clock was ticking, time was running out and the smile was slowly fading from her face. She was in her safe place now; home. It's familiar. It's comfort.
It's an explosion of emotions as the exhaustion takes over. As the emotions of the day take over and the mask slips away, the anxiety creeps in. Frustrated and angry. Rethinking conversations over the day. Rethinking about the little boy who grazed his knee in the playground and feeling everything he felt as you walked him over to a teacher. Burnout. Eruption. Hurting myself is sheer frustration, screaming so loud and harming those around me. Trying to find a path through the storm and a calm in the chaos.
Silence. They sit with me. Goosebumps on my arms and tears on my cheeks.
Today was a hard day. I smiled. I laughed. I read the story so well. I got 10/10 on the spellings test. I was praised. I kept smiling. But the noises were loud. I didn't want to sit still. My brain kept dancing. So many noises. So much light.
And so I mask, camouflaged into the colour of the classroom.
Hello from the floor
Did you notice the light in the ceiling flickering? The crisps that were dropped on the floor and the loud crunch underfoot when I stood on them? Did you see how small the shop became when the echoing voices creeped around me louder and louder? Were you able to follow the constant changing instructions from the staff (doing their best) to keep the man on his square and the family on theirs whilst answering another ladies question about where a certain section was?
No?
But you saw me on the floor. The child making the noises trying to create a constant rhythm louder than that ringing in my ears. To order and process the ever frustrating world around me. You saw the expression change on my face and thought to comment on it. You saw that.
Your world is different to my world. I try my best in the noise and lights and busy. So please try your best when you see a fraction of my world crumbling to not stare, not judge, not comment. Frustration.
Noise.
Anger.
Emotion.
Rage.
Different.
From, the kid on the floor
The journey of a rock star
I find myself once again at war after a day at school performing. My feet are heavy, breathing distorted and my wings fractured by the weight of my own emotions.
I stopped flying. No longer seeing the brightest colours but weighed down by the shadows.
Things are changing now as we take on a new path. A different path. Maybe the days ahead won't be so broken.
I created something. It's colourful, it's bright. It's long like a snake but made from rocks. People are smiling. Lots of people. It found a home where children like me go to play. Memories.
I'm proud.
There's a fundraiser. Adventures, lots of them. A way to shout from the trees about mental health. To change the way people see and talk about my daddy.
I smashed it.
I did that.
There were more. Many more. I walked and walked and ran in the wind. I smiled and waved and helped people.
There was an award. A big one. Young achiever.
I WON that!
The days aren't as heavy now. I see the patterns in the trees and the texture of the clouds.
I see me. I'm proud of me.
Alba.
And I am awesome.