Friday, 10 August 2018

My Story: Emily

Hello my Beautiful readers, Today i am back with another addition to my Mental Health Series. For those of you who are not familiar with this series i use this series to bring awareness to Mental Health and the journeys that people face. This can be through my own story and tips and advice that i have or through guest posts. Today is a guest post by the beautiful Emily so i hope that, by reading this, you understand a little more about the difficulties that we face with Mental Illness.

I will be trying to make this a more regular series, publishing every Friday, so if you like the idea please do give this blog a follow to keep up to date. If you would like to write a guest post for this series then please do get in touch with me.

Trigger warning: Some writing on this post may be considered triggering and upsetting. I talk about suicide, molestation and medications. 

When I was young I knew there was something wrong inside me. I always kind of felt it but didn’t fully comprehend what was going on. I thought they where imaginary friends. Nope. They where my voices. I had 3 others in total and I lived with them till I was 26. It wasn’t till I was 22 that I was diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder. These other voices would control thoughts and actions and sometimes come out to be around other people. I never thought anything of it till I was much older and was wondering why I was having these blank spaces in my memory of the night or day before. 
Flash forward to being 23. I started anew relationship with my now husband. A couple months in I found out news about my family I don’t think anyone can really prepare for.

I was hurting and scared. I didn’t know if this new information would let me live almost. I felt that all of my world had started to crumble around me and for one of the first times I couldn’t do anything about it. The pain was too intense and I couldn’t get myself near a place of forgiveness. 

My suicide attempt was almost of the blue when I was 22 on the 23rd of November in 2013. I came home from my local bar after hanging out with my friend and on the drive home my mind went blank. One of my alters came in and decided we where done. I grabbed a bottle of vodka and found the stash of pain and sleeping pills I had been squirreling away. I called my sister who didn’t answer so I left her a voice mail all while continuing to drink and take the pills. Called my friend who I had just left the bar with and told her she could have my Nook. Called my boyfriend and told him I was done. I didn’t think anyone would make it in time to stop me. After that I sat on the bed and continued to drink and finish off the meds. 

When my boyfriend got to the house I was still awake and barely talking. Just sobbing uncontrollably. Then my friend arrived. Then the ambulance. I live in a small canyon community so the volunteer fire department was the first on seen. 

When I got to the hospital the staff didn’t believe my boyfriend that it was an attempt at suicide. I was just some Orange County white girl who had partied too hard. If it hadn’t been for my boyfriend at the time they would of just discharged me after a day of care. Instead I got a 51-50. 

They transported me after 2 days of emergency room care to what my boyfriend described it to me as the house of horrors. It was a mental health ward that was creepy from the get go. They dosed me up. Yelled at me. Told me how shameful I was and that I was just a stupid little white girl with no real life experience. I could barely speak because of the medications. I remember thinking everyone looked 20 feet tall. 

When I was released from there by an angel they took me to another facility where I lived there for 2 weeks. I got help. I got more meds. I chain smoked cigarettes till I finally felt free again. 

The path I have been on has had tons of battles. Ups and downs and more then a few rock bottoms. In the years during recovery and trying to become human again I went through several therapists till I found the right one for me. I worked at jobs and quit them all. Started a business for myself and kinda failed. I got married to my boyfriend. But most important... I succeeded in finding healing. 

I would love to say I’m 100 percent better but I think once you try to kill yourself it always kinda lingers. On hard days you wonder about it. You think of cliffs you can drive off but you cope. You giggle at yourself a little. Reminding yourself that people say “Ugh I’m dying!” Or “I rather be dead right now” as jokes all the time. So you move on and remember that hard times are normal and it’s justifiable to want a way out of what your going through. 

I close this post with this- I’m happy. I don’t hear my voices anymore and I’m uncontrollably thankful for the life I am living today. 


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