Black can become a rainbow

Sitting 'sunning myself' on the beach in Cornwall.  I am so happy I came, and very grateful to my Parents for letting me loose in their holiday flat: Check it out here.

Being back here always gives me memories; mainly happy ones of my family holidays. We had many many good times here and I will never forget them.  Walking along the different parts of the coast path seeing beautiful wonders many people would not believe possible in 'dreary England'. 

Porthcurno Bay, Cornwall

We spent hours driving to the most beautiful beaches where my Dad set up his mini camping gas paraphernalia making a cooked feast of sausage rolls, pot noodles and of course hot beverages of your choice. We all played cricket for hours on end (though my older brother was banned from batting; the complaints of the fielders who ended up running half a marathon by the end of his innings were taken into account!).  We once even dared to  take an inflatable boat on to the beach. Unbeknownst to us, the sea on Constantine Bay is the ferocious Atlantic Ocean, not protected by any headland and open to the strongest winds. My memory of that day is one of me and my younger brother being thrust 10 feet in the air by a rogue wave and landing splat out on the sand in front of large group of amused locals.  Needless to say, we did not take that little boat out again.

I find memories difficult to deal with. It is why for many years I blocked out any thoughts at all. I allowed my depression and eating disorder to take away any good thoughts of the past - for my biggest fear was change, growing up and having to deal with real life. It was almost like throwing the baby out with the bath water. I had to get rid of all memories full stop because I had to protect myself from the difficult memories. Some things are still really raw, some are likely to be etched in my brain for life and it is those that I fear the most.

It was when I went into Penzance yesterday and I walked onto Market Jew Street, the local high street, that I was suddenly thrown into a chasm. I suddenly had the memory of walking along that street with my Mum. Walking into a book shop, I realised it was The book shop.

Maybe I should go back to that year, the last year I remember holidaying with my family. It was just after I had finished my attempt at Sixth form. It was about a month after I had first been officially diagnosed with depression. Understandably it was a difficult time for me and my family. I have mentioned this holiday before in one of my posts; when I spoke about anhedonia. Anhedonia is "the inability to experience pleasure from activities usually found enjoyable".  I am still trying to work out which part is worse, the loss of feelings all together, or the suicidal thoughts. Anyway, I digress. That holiday has difficult memories.  I remember finding myself unable to breathe and the guilt I feel about the effect I had on my family  is still so strong.  Food was at the bottom of my agenda and my aggression  irritability and insomnia drove my room-mate (older sister) to distraction. I would tut when she would so much as turn over in her bed. I would tut at my siblings when they made too much noise, when they ate loudly, when they breathed too loud. I was a nightmare.

The breathing got worse and my parents called NHS Direct who suggested asthma. I knew it wasn't, at the back of my head I realised it was hyperventilation from anxiety. A few days into the holiday and my Mum called my newly appointed psychiatrist. He said it was (ironically) a side effect of the Prozac I had just started, and suggested I think about doing something calming.  Ironically again, I was on the beach at the time of the phone call. My parents were at a loose end with me.  Finally my Mum took the advice of a friend and on a Friday afternoon we took the car and went to Penzance. We walked into the nearest bookshop and checked out their books on anxiety and depression.  I had to hide what I was buying from my siblings; I had to hide everything from them. I bought 'Overcoming Depression' by Paul Gilbert and 'Overcoming Anxiety' by Windy Dryden. I still have these books - fully highlighted and annotated!

That book shop suddenly threw me yesterday. It threw me into that place of being 15 and not knowing what was happening to me. It was a hard memory to allow myself to feel, but I felt it and I really realised how far I have come and what I have managed since then. It has been 8 years since that holiday and although things are far from perfect, my understanding of myself and the illnesses that have taken over so many years really make me smile.

I am sitting on the beach my family frequented. I am feeling the Sea and sand with all of my senses and I am crying from happiness. Crying that I can see the Sea and feel the beauty. For 8 years ago, the look of the sea made me wonder what the point was. Beauty meant nothing to me, all I wanted at that point was for things to end. I remember sending texts to people saying I was at the edge of a cliff. I remember seeing the most STUNNING views and not feeling.

The past few months have been extremely difficult. I have been on the brink of another depressive episode and my eating disorder has most certainly reared its ugly head.  But I am fighting it and I am so thankful  of where I have come from. 

I am so grateful to my boss and line manager at work, who has been so understanding about these few weeks. The compassion I have been shown has made me feel I have the time and space to get back on track. My Parents and family have been amazing, and I am once again forever grateful to my therapists, consultant, key worker, dietician and fellow patients for the support I have been given. You are all amazing!

Black can become a rainbow...