Big Decisions & Me & BPD

***This post is going to talk about fertility and pregnancy, in the context of mental health. I know from my own experience how difficult these things can be to hear about, so if you’re not in the right space to read about it right now, do what you need to do to look after yourself.***

On my personal social media a few weeks ago I told people that I was pregnant with our first child, and I’m currently 16 weeks along. I was overwhelmed by the positive reaction from everyone, as I assumed people would think I was crazy (well, crazier) to have a baby with my mental health history being as it is. Deciding to start a family wasn’t simple for us, and I thought I’d explain a bit more about it all, and about the support I’m being given by the NHS to protect my wellbeing at the moment. 

I can’t remember the details, but I know that when things started getting serious between me and Tom (probably around the time we started being comfortable enough with trumping in front of each other) we must have had the conversation about whether we each wanted kids, and the answer was a resounding ‘yes’ on both sides. We’ve both got siblings, and soon after we got together our twin nieces were born, cementing how much we loved kids and how much we wanted our own family. 

This all made it especially difficult when, two years ago, following my breakdown, we had to have several conversations about whether we would ever want to risk my mental health by putting my poor battered brain through the hormonal rollercoaster and overall chaos of pregnancy and babies. I felt so guilty at this time, as I felt I had married Tom under false pretences; he should be with someone who could give him children, but as always he was great and told me I was missing the point. If he couldn’t have children with me, he didn’t want them, and he was very clear that, for him, my mental health and wellbeing was much more important than any hypothetical babies. 

(Ah great, now he’s going to read this and be all smug. But, to be fair, he has a right to be, he’s awesome and much more than I could ever think I deserved. There, that should mean I don’t need to get him a Christmas present this year.)

So for a couple of years, we shelved the idea of starting a family. The weird thing is, no one else did. Every mental health professional I have dealt with since my admission to hospital in October 2018 has talked about my age and relationship status, and how they want to ensure that if we did want to have children, my treatment would not prevent this. I remember when I met the consultant on the psych ward she was adamant that we shouldn’t change my medication as the one I have been on for years (Citalopram) is one of the few you can continue to take during pregnancy with minimal risks to the baby. I sat listening to her, thinking ‘I don’t care about this, just adjust my meds and GET ME BETTER.’ Turns out, she knew what she was talking about, she knew that there was a chance that once the smashed up kaleidoscope of my BPD vision cleared, I might see things differently.

However, despite all the encouragement from my consultants, my recovery team and my therapist, it wasn’t until earlier this year that I started to think about babies again. Up to that point, I could not be confident that my mental state would stay stable enough to do it. I was having days and weeks of feeling much better, but these were still punctuated by periods when I felt very low and was really struggling with symptoms such as depersonalisation and panic. 

But from January 2020 onwards, I noticed that things had shifted massively without me even noticing. I wasn’t panicking over every single thing anymore, I started a college course in makeup artistry and regained a lot of the confidence I thought was long gone. I was really happy in myself and our relationship and I started to feel, for want of a better word, broody again. The image I’d had of myself as a mum when we’d got married, that I’d had to keep shut tightly away in my mind for two years, suddenly seemed possible again. I started to talk about it with Tom, and he was open to the idea, depending on what my recovery team had to say.

I was so scared to have the conversation with my care coordinator, as I still had the idea in my head that people would be appalled at the idea of someone who had been as ill as me being a mum. I can see now that this was all my own invention. I had such a fear that I wasn’t fit to be a mum that I believed everyone else was going to think the same. I could not have been more wrong. My care coordinator was very excited that I was even considering this and explained all about the support available to me, including a referral into the specialist perinatal mental health team in Sheffield, who would support me alongside my current team. Once again, I was being told that what I saw as a massively personal flaw/failing/something I should not subject a child to, was actually not such a big deal, with the right support and information. 

I am lucky enough to be able to say that this support, encouragement and lack of stigma regarding my mental health history has been borne out in every medical appointment I’ve had since I got my positive pregnancy test. The overwhelming message I’ve received from midwives, consultants and my GP has consistently been ‘healthy mum, healthy baby’, with everyone emphasising that keeping me well is the priority to then ensure that my baby Baked Bean (BB) is a happy little chap. Obviously this does not mean putting BB at serious risk in any way, but weighing up the minimal risk that comes from taking my medication against the massive benefit I get from it. It’s actually been really interesting speaking to all these different people about it and realising that although there is clearly still a lot of work to do around the way mental health is treated in the NHS, the stigma that I fully expected to meet head on at every turn just hasn’t been there.

Okay, I feel I’ve waffled on long enough for this post! I am going to have a lot more to say about pregnancy and mental health, from what I’ve experienced so far as I went through the first trimester to trying not to pathologise every perfectly normal anxious thought I have. I also want to share some thoughts about all the ways actually trying to get pregnant (not like that, you mucky pups) messed with my brain. But in between all that I’m going to try and post as normal, as life goes on while you’re baking a bean, and I still need to feel like ME, and not just a baby oven.

If you’ve stuck with me this far through this long post, thank you!

Sarah x

Keeping busy & Me & BPD

If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you’ll know that I’m a huge proponent of occupational therapy (OT). Basically that means doing a physical or mental activity that keeps your mind occupied and has some form of therapeutic effect on the brain. This can be literally anything, from following a complex knitting pattern to playing Angry Birds on your phone (yes, I still do that because I am SUPER COOL). 

Occupational therapy was always something that I struggled with before going into hospital in 2018, as I believed that if I was distracting myself from the chaos in my head then I wasn’t dealing with it, like some form of denial. What I’ve learned about myself from being on the ward and since then is that actually when I give myself some brain space in the form of an activity, the chaos quietens on its own and then I can work on any problems in a much calmer and more rational way.

During Lockdown, especially at the start, I saw a lot of social media posts encouraging people to not feel like they had to stay busy, or make banana bread, or do anything, because it was an Unprecedented Pandemic and everything was stressful enough. Whilst I completely agree that the situation was overwhelming and that no one should ever feel they HAVE to do anything, some of these posts felt a bit judgemental towards those of us that NEEDED the busy-ness and to keep moving. 

When I was on the psychiatric ward 2 years ago, everyone (regardless of why we had been admitted) was encouraged to take part in the OT activities, as it was considered a massive part of engaging with your treatment and ultimate recovery. I was initially reluctant to take part, for the reasons above, but I slowly began to realise that with every gym session, every picture coloured in, every pumpkin carved, I was feeling better and a teeny bit more like myself. OT has been a massive part of my life and ongoing recovery ever since.

Also, I really don’t think anyone ever feels worse for baking something or going for a walk round the block (if you can). You might not feel better immediately, but you won’t feel worse.

Early on in Lockdown, I took part in a bake-along filmed live on Instagram by Gok Wan, where we made a cheese and onion scone loaf. He posted the ingredients a few days before and thousands of us followed each step with him that evening. It was fun, and I really liked the feeling of having baked something (I’ve always loved cooking, but baking has often seemed a bit too ‘science-y’ for me to understand). Also any baked good warm from the oven is *chef’s kiss*.

Soon after this, I started doing weekly cookalongs on Skype with my mother- and sister-in-law, Val and Hannah. Each week we made something new, or that at least one of us had always fancied having a go at. We started with potato gnocchi, and have since covered many different types of bread, pastries, Cornish pasties, and even crumpets. We’ve made things we would have always said ‘oh I don’t have time for that’ about in the Before Times, and had a lot of fun doing it. I’ve melted plastic wrap into pastry, had bread dough escape the bowl and make a bid for world domination whilst rising, and every single week uttered the words ‘I really need to buy a cooling rack’.

Our first Lockdown cookalong creation -potato gnocchi!

Even though Lockdown has eased now and I have seen Val in person again, and will be seeing Hannah soon, we have decided to carry on as we enjoy these weekly baking and catch-up sessions so much. They’ve given me a sense of routine (Friday mornings are now baking mornings in my diary), a way to connect with people I love and have helped me overcome my fear of baking. I now understand how to make bread (which is great as I LOVE bread), and I am more confident to give different creations a go. 

Following recipes and discussing what is going right or wrong with them is also a great distraction, and for a few hours each week I have been able to, if not forget, then at least keep at a distance everything that has been happening. And whilst I think it is important to stay engaged with the news and the wider world, we all need a bit of time to step away and recharge.

Ciabatta! Maaaan, I love bread.

Now I’m off to eat all the M&M cookies I baked yesterday…

Sarah x

Lockdown and Me and BPD

First of all, how are you doing? Like, really? These past few months have been some of the weirdest most of us have ever experienced, and I think we all need to be checking in with each other, and ourselves, to make sure we’re doing okay, and asking for help or support when we need it. 

Image from

Weirdly, the stage we’re currently in, of trying to emerge from Lockdown and navigate all the ambiguous regulations, ever-changing guidance and new-found freedom, seems to be more anxiety-inducing than the bizarre certainty of full isolation. I have seen a spike in my anxiety in the last few weeks, and a lot of people I’ve spoken to have felt the same.

I don’t know about anyone else, but when I pictured us coming out of Lockdown when we were first told to Stay Home, I imagined warm reunions with family and friends, full of hugs and laughter. What is actually happening is tentative plans to meet up 2 metres apart in gardens, the terror of standing too near older family members in case you put them at risk, and the confusion of being so close to people you love but not being able to act normally. Please don’t get me wrong, I am so glad we can see more people now, and I’d take a garden chat with my grandma over not being able to see her any day of the week, but it’s not the joyous resumption of normality I think we were all hoping for. 

So, I hope you’re doing okay, I really do. If you’re not, please remember to be gentle with yourself, drink some water and get enough rest. You matter so much.

At the start of Lockdown, I was really worried about how I was going to cope with the weeks and months ahead. I know a lot of people around me were concerned about me as well. Which is fair enough, as this time last year I was still really struggling to live in a ‘normal’ world, overcome by panic attacks and depersonalisation on a daily basis, so how was my recently-recovered brain going to handle all this awfulness, sadness and change? 

I think knowing that I was at risk of becoming very ill again meant that I immediately went on the offensive, and dug out my ‘toolkit’ of basic self-care and -management that I’ve been painstakingly piecing together for the past two years (and, really, all my life).

I wanted to do a round-up here of things that have helped me keep my head above water during Lockdown, but when I began trying to sum them all up in one blog post I realised that it would be a loooooong post. 

So I think I’m going to do it as a series, and publish a shorter post every few days on a different aspect of my Lockdown life, and how it’s (so far) prevented that dip I so fear.

Until next time.

Sarah x

2 Years and Me and BPD

Wisteria suddenly seemed to be everywhere when I got ill.

It’s two years exactly since my breakdown. It still sounds over-dramatic using that word but there’s literally no other way of putting what happened that weekend. I am not going to go into what happened here (see my previous posts for that information), instead I want to write a letter to myself in May 2018. The me that was lost, sad and so very scared of what was happening. The me that held on and got me to this current me, sitting in our newly-decorated spare room, having finished a day of college work for my makeup artistry course, full of gratitude and feeling kind of hungry.

Dear Me in May 2018,

Okay, take a deep breath and just try to stay calm enough to read this. I know your concentration is shot at the moment but it’ll be worth it. Also, I should say, nothing I say here will change what’s happening and what will happen, but I just want to give you the hope to hold onto while you go through it. I’ll do it as a list, due to the aforementioned concentration issues.

  1. Yes, this is a mental breakdown, and it is serious. You already know this but it may take a while for you, and others, to realise just how serious.
  2. It’s bad and I’m not going to lie to you – it’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better. But it DOES get better, I promise.
  3. I know right now you’re certain that the antibiotics (doxycyline) you took for the sinusitis are responsible (and I still believe they were a strong catalyst), but there has been so much else going on. In time you’ll realise how much you’ve taken on, how much you’ve been pushing yourself, and how much you’ve not felt right for a while. THAT friendship really hasn’t helped either lately, has it? Don’t worry, it resolves itself in a way that has needed to happen for a long time.
  4. You’re about to discover just how far people will go for you. Not just your immediate family (who are going to be as wonderful as ever), but your (still very new) husband, his family, your friends. They won’t give up on you, and they won’t let you give up on yourself. They’re still there, and you’ve been able to repay at least some of what they did to help you.
  5. You’re going to spend time in hospital. Hmm, should I have told you that? But like I already said, you know this is serious, and I think you probably already know you need some specialist help. But that’s okay because…
  6. … in hospital you get that help. You get a diagnosis (not going to spoil that surprise right now) which makes sense of so much of what you’ve felt for so much of your life. You’re going to end up with a fantastic team of mental health professionals supporting you. Just wait until you meet Louise, your Care Coordinator, and Stacey, your psychologist. They are going to change your life.
  7. You’re going to once again love all the things that right now you feel you don’t connect with or deserve. If you can, try and watch that programme, listen to that podcast, go for that run. But don’t worry if you don’t feel like it right now, they’re not going anywhere.
  8. You’re going to go on some awesome holidays, even while you’re ill, and you’ll cope wonderfully, and even enjoy them.
  9. You’ll sleep again. I know right now you’re terrified of closing your eyes because your brain won’t be quiet and stop haranguing you, but you’re going to get back to being The Queen of Naps (remember, Iona calls you that) again. In fact, one of my favourite times now is when I’m reading my Kindle in bed with the light off at night, ready to drop asleep any moment and feeling so warm and content.
  10. This all sucks, but you’re going to gain so much from it. Insight into why you think the way you do, what wasn’t working in your life, and massive appreciation for the smallest things. You’ll look up at a blue sky and smile again, and you’ll float on your back in a swimming pool and the only thing you’ll have on your mind is what you’re having for tea. You’ll love food again too.
  11. Tom won’t leave you. You won’t leave Tom. If anything, our relationship is now forged in fire. I’m really proud of us.
  12. Don’t panic, but you’re going to leave your current job. I know, I know, you love it. But you will choose to leave. Not just yet, and you’ll know when it’s the right time. Again, don’t worry, I’ve started doing something that I’m so excited about now, and I feel in control of where I’m going with it. Oh and those friends you made at Oakwood? You haven’t lost them either. As if they would have let that happen.
  13. You will one day remember fondly the things you hate right now. I know that ‘Shotgun’ by George Ezra is constantly on the radio at the moment for you, but I can hear it playing outside now and I’m happily humming along to it.
  14. You’ll love your home again. Yes, it’s where the breakdown is happening and that’s hard, but it’s also where you’re going to recover.
  15. Keep reading anything by Matt Haig, he continues to help throughout all of this.
  16. You’re going to get at least three more tattoos and have your daith pierced. You badass.
  17. You’re going to develop some coping strategies that are not helpful, and at times you’ll feel
    ashamed of and heartbroken by them. That’s okay, all of it. One day the only reminders will be
    silvery lines on your skin that you can stroke and feel compassion for.
  18. You’re going to be okay, just keep going. Even if all that looks like right now is remembering to
    breathe, eat and shower.
  19. I’m so bloody proud of you.
    Sarah x

The C-Word and Me and BPD

***Trigger warning: mention of suicidal ideation.***

Hi everyone, I hope you are all keeping well and as safe as possible. I’m sorry but I am going to talk about the C-word. I think it’d be weird not to, since it’s colouring everything we think, say and do at the moment. So much of life is disrupted, so many people are ill, and sadly not everyone is recovering. Businesses are suffering (*puts hand in air*), weddings are being cancelled or postponed, and ‘normal’ life is something we all reminisce about rather fondly now. Remember when we could lick anyone’s face freely in the street? Okay, my memory isn’t great, but still. This is all A Bit Weird.

I’ve had a lot of people checking up on me over the last week or so, which is really lovely. People are concerned because they know I suffer badly with anxiety and depression, so naturally I could be LOSING MY SHIT right about now. And that would be a totally understandable response to the current worldwide situation. 

But the truth? Actually I’m… fine. Don’t get me wrong, I’m as weirded-out as everyone else at the moment, disappointed that my fledgling business is on hiatus, and the thought of having my husband working from home for the next few months makes me feel a bit twitchy but generally I’m doing okay.

I have a diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder, have experienced crippling anxiety and depression, and was an inpatient in a psychiatric ward for nearly 3 weeks in 2018; my mental health would probably be described as somewhat ropier than most people’s, so why am I not running round in a circle screaming or curled up on a corner shaking? Trust me, I’ve been asking myself that a lot recently and there’s only one thing I can think of: I’ve faced a different kind of apocalyptic crisis and survived. On 7th May 2018 my world as I knew it ended, everything changed and I didn’t know what was going to happen next. I was at home from work for months, barely saw anyone, and had to face a foe I couldn’t even see.

Okay, okay, before anyone starts having a go saying that a complete mental breakdown and a global pandemic are not comparable, I’m not saying they are really, just that there’s a couple of things that I think I have taken from one to help me gain perspective on the other. Hear me out…

  1. Loss of routine.

It’s a year to the day since I handed in my notice at the school I worked in. Before that, I had been on sick leave for 10 months. That’s 22 months since I lost the rigid sense of routine that working, especially in a school, provides. I went from being busy to being someone who spent most of their time in the house alone. I had to build a routine out of what I had, and gradually I did manage it. Even tiny things like getting up, showered and making breakfast gave me structure. What TV shows I wanted to watch helped, too. I’d designate craft time, reading time, time to exercise. It took a while but eventually I did adjust to having to create my own little routine, and it’s stood me in good stead for starting my own business, which obviously means self-discipline and time-management. And it means that now, when we’re all having to spend a lot more time at home, it’s not uncharted territory for me.

2. Coping with uncertainty.

We have always lived with uncertainty, every second of every day. It’s just that now one massively scary thing is dominating the news and our brains and making us all face the fact that everything we thought was certain is actually incredibly fragile and subject to sudden change. That sounds awful, but it does have a flip side of making us more grateful for where we are right now. In 2018 I went from being a newly married teaching assistant who was building a career as a psychotherapist, and planning to start a family, to a suicidally ill person who could no longer do any of those things (except remain married, which we managed!). All my ‘certains’ were gone. I had to exist day to day and trust that by doing things on a smaller scale, I would eventually build myself back up to a place where I felt comfortable to plan for the future again. And you know what? It did work.

3. Who am I?

As I just mentioned, my breakdown meant that I lost a lot of the things that I felt gave me my identity. Jobs, and who we are at work, give us a MASSIVE sense of this, and I know that a lot of people are currently struggling because even if they can work from home, this is not as fulfilling or sociable as seeing your colleagues every day. Yep, been there. It sucks, but I guess I did find other ways to feel like myself again. Even if I couldn’t get out to see people (I self-isolated before it was cool), I tried my damnedest to keep in touch with them via texts, WhatsApp, Facebook or FaceTime. I even wrote… letters. I reconnected with the bits of me that weren’t tied into my job, and slowly, slowly, slowly began to remember them. I was, and always had been, more than my job, and it didn’t do me any harm to figure that out.

4. Fear.

For over a year, I lived with shapeless, shifting, blood-curdling fear. Fear that I was never going to feel like a real person ever again, fear that I’d always be poorly, that we’d never be able start a family, and ultimately the fear that I’d eventually lose my battle with my own mind. This isn’t just me remembering it wrongly – my family will tell you that I lived in a constant state of terror. I shook, vomited and hid from everything. Even just writing about it now makes my heart rate go up, I can feel it in my chest. 

I CRAVED instruction and a clear plan. I remember saying so many times that I just wished someone would say to me ‘if you follow these clear steps the chances are strong that you WILL survive this’. Experts, health officials and people who know a lot more than me about pandemics and viruses are giving us clear steps now, and I am happy to follow them. I know that they won’t necessarily keep me and those I love completely safe, but odds are they will. Also, there are practical things I can do here to stay well and safe, and practical steps are always helpful in a crisis, even if it’s just singing ‘Happy Birthday’ twice while I wash my hands. 

So, I am in no way saying that everyone who has experienced a mental health crisis will feel the same way as me, or indeed that people who haven’t are at a disadvantage (ha!), I’m just trying to make sense of the way I am coping at the moment. I am aware that my mental health, and everyone’s, is fragile and that I need to do extra things to keep myself well mentally as well as physically at this time. I would also like to highlight that I do not suffer from health anxiety, and I cannot imagine how difficult this all must be if you do.

I also just want to send out massive love and (long-distance) hugs to everyone at the moment. It’s hard, and so scary, but if being ill has taught me one thing overall, it’s that nothing (good or bad) lasts forever. This too shall pass.

All that, and I haven’t actually said ‘coronavirus’ once. 

Sarah x

‘Better’ and Me and BPD

It’s been a while since my last post, not because I’ve been lazy or not had anything to say, but because I’ve been busy! Since the start of this year, I’ve started a Diploma in Makeup Artistry and that has taken up a lot of my brain space. It’s been really nice to have something to focus on, and I’m really excited about the opportunities and challenges it’s bringing. I have to remember to not let me brain run away with itself too much, though. I know that I have a tendency to jump into stuff head-first, make myself too busy and then suffer from a serious case of overwhelm. It’s really hard, and I’m doing a lot of work in my last few therapy sessions around setting boundaries for myself, maintaining balance and giving myself permission to switch off and rest.

Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk about today. Today I want to talk about the concept of getting Better when you’ve experienced poor mental heath. Is it possible to get Better? And if so, what does Better look like? Or is it just a myth we tell ourselves we need to aim for when we’re struggling? As always, I will say that my thoughts here just reflect my own experience and my opinions. Everyone is different.

I lost track of the amount of times, when I’ve been really ill over the last two years and expressed the desire to be better, that someone has said to me something along the lines of ‘Better doesn’t exist’ or ‘Maybe you’re aiming for something unachievable’. Now, I know these people have always had my best interests at heart, and what they have been trying to say is that I need to not put pressure on myself to make masses of progress, and to work with where I am at that time, but sometimes it hasn’t been that helpful. It can feel like they’re implying that I can only ever expect to live in a kind of limbo state of emotion, settling for always feeling a bit crap.

For me, Better has always been something I have known I can achieve, because it is something I have experienced. It isn’t about being deliriously happy all the time (to be honest, that sounds bloody exhausting), it’s more about the absence of unpleasant sensations, thoughts and feelings, the successful management of them if they crop up.

For me, Better includes:

  • Not waking at 4am EVERY MORNING with uncontrollable existential panic, unable to get any more sleep, and trying to slow my racing heart.
  • Not crying every hour or so.
  • Being able to engage with the outside world (friends, family, the cat) without withdrawing constantly into my own thoughts.
  • Not cancelling plans because I don’t want my friends to see me not ‘myself’.
  • Enjoying food again. Man, do I love food.
  • Not needing to take diazepam every day to help me control my panic.
  • Laughing.
  • Being able to lose myself in something I enjoy.
  • Recognising irrational thoughts as just thoughts, and not facts.
  • Going easier on myself, allowing time for self-care and space for making mistakes.
  • Speaking to my support network, being honest and asking for help if I need it.
My favourite cartoon about learning to live alongside mental health issues, by Hannah Hillam (find her on Instagram @hannahhillam).

With Borderline Personality Disorder, and with many mental health conditions, I don’t think it’s a case of ever being free of the issue. It’s not like chicken pox where you catch it once, it goes away and you don’t get it again. It’s more like shingles, where it can lie dormant in your system for years and flare up when you’re stressed, run-down or busy. Or, sometimes, for no discernible reason, it just pops up unexpectedly. 

I know now that I have pretty much always lived alongside my BPD tendencies, and I know that I will continue to do so for the rest of my life. This means that in order to live a meaningful life I enjoy, I will always have to make allowances for myself based on what I know about my thought processes and the way my emotions can become dysregulated at times. I know that if I pack too much into my days, try to make everyone happy, and push myself to do too much when I’m run down, the likelihood is I will get ill again. I also know that at times, despite being aware of this, I will still let those things happen, and therefore I will become ill. And I guess at those times I will just have to remember that Better exists, and if I’ve experienced it before, I can experience it again.

Right now, I am feeling Better, which at several points over the last couple of years I did not think I would ever feel again. No, it isn’t a state that I will exist in for the rest of my life, because life isn’t like that – difficult things happen, sadness can engulf any of us at any time, there are just as many downs as there are ups. But for now, I’m going to enjoy where I am. I’m going to luxuriate in sleep, savour all the food I love, lose myself in films and revel in enjoying my makeup course. I’m going to make sure that the people who support me in my dark times know how much I love and appreciate them, and I’m going to work on making memories with those people to carry me through the dark times when they come again.

For now, I’m going to enjoy feeling Better. 

Sarah x

2019 and Me and BPD

*Trigger warning – some reference to self harm*

Hello! And Happy New Year! Sorry for my absence over the last couple of months, but it was definitely necessary to give myself some space and time to consolidate the progress I’ve made recently. I have a habit, when I’m feeling good and doing well, to get a bit carried away and try to do too much. So *maybe* attempting to blog every day during the anniversary of my hospital stay was a step (or nineteen) too far. Basically I overloaded myself and blew a bit of a fuse at the start of November, so I took a step back, concentrated on what had worked before, and gave myself a break. I have a lot more posts from that series that I’ve already written, and I will definitely continue to post them at some point, but not right now. I really appreciated all the positive feedback from everyone, and all the kind words, so thank you! And thank you if you’re reading this now.

Anyway, with all the new year chat going on at the moment, I thought I’d do a summary of what I feel were my biggest achievements of 2019, and how they relate to my BPD.

Happy New Year, everyone!

Before I continue, I need to say that 2019 not was just about these achievements. There were devastating lows, visits to A&E, incidents of self harm and crippling depression. It was not an easy year. But I want to focus on what went well, and this is my blog, so that’s what I’m going to do.

My top ten achievements/good moments of 2019 (in no particular order):

  1. Recognising that the job I was in was not good for my mental health, no matter how much I loved it (and I really did), and making the hard decision to resign.
  2. Holidays with Tom to Scarborough (February), Cyprus (June) and Berlin (October). And feeling better and more like myself on each one.
  3. Being a rainbow bridesmaid for one of my best friend’s at her vow renewal in May. My mental health was very rocky at that point, but I am proud of myself for showing up for her.
  4. Celebrating the marriages of two amazing couples, and laughing, dancing and partying at each one.
  5. Finding a psychologist and a form of therapy that finally fitted well with me, and helped me to take back control of my mental health. It’s one step in what I know will be a life-long journey (there’s no destination point with it, it will always be a process I am in), but I’m so happy to have taken it.
  6. I decided that I wanted to embark on a completely new training and career path, and secured a place on a Diploma in Makeup Artistry that I start this week, and will be working on for most of 2020. I’ve also completed a qualification in Defined Brows, and will be completing one soon in lashes. I’m a huge advocate of these small things as big parts of self care, and I am excited that I may be able to bring these things to others who could benefit from a bit of pampering.
  7. I completed my Good Reads challenge of reading 50 books in 2019, by reading 55. It made me track what I was reading, and gave me a manageable target for something that I really enjoy.
  8. I worked on my occupational therapy activities – I ran 286km in 2019, started going swimming again, and I knitted myself a sweater and crocheted a baby blanket for a friend.
  9. Spending lots of time with both our families, and celebrating the birth of our gorgeous little nephew, Jack (AKA Jack-Jack Attack), in February.
  10. Getting to see and catch up with a lot of friends, often with their children, and make lovely new memories. 

I’m not a massive fan of new year’s resolutions, but I do like to set intentions, and have a vague idea of the direction I want to go in. I’m not going to share my 2020 vision (oh come on, that was nearly the title of this post, you got off lightly) here now, but I have some ideas, and I am very excited about what this year will bring.

But. If the last two years have taught me anything it’s that life really IS what happens when you’re busy making other plans. So my advice to myself, and maybe to you reading this, is taken from on of my favourite films, ‘Dan in Real Life’: Plan, to be surprised.

Sarah x

12. Exercise (Hospital and Me and BPD)

It’s another occupational therapy post, everyone! I actually wasn’t expecting to write so much about OT, I think this blogging challenge has helped me view my time on Stanage more clearly, and sort through what were the most important parts of it for me. Turns out, OT was a big one. And it’s unsurprising that since I came out of hospital, these are the kinds of activities that have continued to help me feel better. I guess even writing these posts is a type of occupational therapy, as it’s keeping me busy and I find it quite therapeutic to write about everything that’s happened. In my free time at the moment I also enjoy crochet, knitting, drawing and painting. Hang on, that sounds like the rubbish ‘about me’ bit of a dating profile. Or a CV.

Anyway, some of the best OT activities on Stanage were the ones based around exercise, perhaps because there was something like this pretty much every day. There were two gym sessions a week, on Monday and Thursday, where we could leave the locked ward to go down to the OT gym. It was pretty basic but had everything to keep you busy for an hour or so’s workout. Treadmill, stationary bike, rowing machine (one of my favourites) (yes, really), and various assisted weight machines. 

The occupational therapists who supported us there were amazing too. Like Terry in the pottery sessions, they were encouraging without forcing us to do anything we didn’t feel comfortable with. They helped us develop exercise plans, set realistic goals and try new things. I remember having a really good chat with one of them about parkrun (see my other blog, Running For My Life, about my love of running), what our best times were, and which were our favourite courses to run in Sheffield. Like the creative OT activities, this was another thing that tapped into my sense of self and reminded me that I was more than just my mental ill health.

The Cardio Wall in the OT gym.

My favourite part of the gym was a piece of equipment called the Cardio Wall, a bank of flashing lights which you punched with spherical handheld weights. You could program the wall for different timed sequences that tested your speed and reflexes. Next to the wall was a white board where we could write our best scores for each sequence, encouraging us to beat each other and our own previous times. It was a great incentive and I’d love to have another go on one. Ideally one not in a psychiatric ward gym, though.

I still find getting active useful for my recovery and think it will always be a key part of how I maintain my mental health.

Sarah x 

11. Homesickness (Hospital and Me and BPD)

Man, did I miss home during those 18 days. 

Although, bizarrely, I think one of the things that helped me begin to feel better while I was on Stanage was the distance it gave me from my everyday life. While I had been ill I’d really struggled to feel any connection to things that used to mean so much to me, including Tom, our cat Stella, and our lovely little house. I was constantly trying to force ‘normal’ feelings for these things, which left me feeling frustrated, defeated and exhausted. 

Being away from home and my life gave me space to just focus on myself, and meant that I wasn’t constantly ‘testing’ out my feelings and thoughts. I think it meant that I took that pressure off myself, and gradually the good feelings started to come back naturally. I also spent a lot of time speaking to support workers, nurses and other patients about my life outside the ward, and I think doing that helped remind me how lucky I was to have such a lovely life to return to, and how it was all still there, just waiting for me to come back.

Unfortunately this meant that I got really homesick at times, and I regularly texted Tom and my mum asking if I could come home yet. Knowing that while I was in my little room on my own in the evenings, Tom and Stella were in our comfy lounge without me made me really sad, but also determined to get home to them. Obviously I’m glad that I listened to the advice and guidance of the professionals and didn’t discharge myself early, but it was incredibly hard.

She clearly missed me as much as I missed her.

I remember the first time I went home for the evening. Stella sat in the middle of the rug in the lounge glaring at me, clearly asking where the hell I’d been. I’d missed that haughty look so much, it broke my heart to go back to the ward again at the end of the evening.

By the time I left Stanage, I was desperate to sleep in my own bed, cook and eat a meal with Tom, and cuddle up with him and Stella at night. The homesickness helped me get back in touch with those little things that mean the most to me, and I was ready to return to my life at the end of my hospital stay.

Sarah x  

10. Messages of support (Hospital and Me and BPD)

I had five steady visitors who supported me while I was on Stanage,  but another level of support I also had was a constant stream of messages from friends. 

I didn’t say anything on Facebook about the fact I was an on a psychiatric ward, as I felt that maybe I’d be judged quite harshly on there. I was more open on Instagram, and whilst I didn’t post loads about why I was there or what it was like, I did say where I was. From this, and from word spreading between my friends, I started to get lots of messages coming in.

Two friends (Michelle and Jonathan) live quite nearby the ward, and were in touch regularly offering to bring me cake and chocolate (sorry I never took you up on this, guys), others sent little gifts in the post for Tom to bring in, and some responded regularly to the stories I posted on Instagram, sending love after particularly bad nights, or when I was feeling really hopeless.

My sister, Lynne, sent me loads of photos and updates about my niece, Emma. Seeing their faces in photos made me smile and cry in equal measure!

One of the photos Marie sent me while I was on the ward.

One person stands out in my memory more than any other during that time. My friend Marie texted me every single day I was in there, about anything and everything. She’d ask how I was but also report on what crazy things her kids were doing, or how things were at work. She also sent me excellent photos like this selfie. She’s an absolute legend. And now she’ll never let me forget I’ve said that.

It meant the world to me that people didn’t back off when they heard where I was. I guess it would have been easy to sort of think ‘Oh I don’t know what to say’ and therefore just avoid contacting me altogether, so the fact that so many people reached out really kept me going and helped me to feel like I was still a person, just a poorly one.

That lack of judgement for anyone with a mental health problem means more than you’ll ever know. Thanks, guys.

Sarah x