I suffer from depression. I’m medicated for it and I’m happy to say that. Now! I never used to be. When I first started dating my ex, I had been on my medication for about 6 months. I’d been following my 3 positives a day for about 2 of those months and I felt fabulous.
The weekend I met him, I was meant to have 4 dates. It was the first time in my life I’d had dates with multiple people without about 6 months between them. However, in hindsight, I misread the signs (I didn’t, but owing to him being a massive sociopath, he convinced me I did) and thought we were heading for a relationship. (And we were officially boyfriend and girlfriend for about 12 hours until he told me he couldn’t bring himself to stop sleeping with the other women in his life; ones up until this point I had no knowledge of)
I digress. One of the things I stupidly did was I discontinued my medication. He was staying over most nights (hence it being a total shock when he informed me of two other lovers) and I couldn’t bring myself to tell him I was on anti-depressants. My anxiety kicked in and told me if he knew, he’d run a mile. It was okay at the start; we were in the honeymoon stage and I was blissfully happy.
By Christmas though, I was having massive side effects to not taking my medication. (Side rant- why don’t GPs set up alerts for when patients don’t return for anti-depressants. I’m not saying I need them to be concerned, or remember themselves, these are volatile drugs that can lead to serious consequences if not taken properly.) Upon having a fake Christmas weekend as we couldn’t spend the holidays together (We were in an Open Relationship at this point. One that was never actually followed properly) I was told ‘You’re making me feel weird about sleeping with other people, so I can’t see you as much anymore.’ I had a meltdown. I returned to the doctors and I got some medication.
The anti-depressants didn’t quite work as well as they should have. On top of this the GP encouraged me to go back onto the contraceptive pill. FUCKER! Despite asking about its impact upon my mental health, I was told it would be fine. Word of warning to anyone out there; avoid microgynon at all costs, never mind if you’re being treated for depression. It is notorious for increasing depression in women. I felt like I was going insane.
Yes, I was still seeing my ex. No one knew except my house mate. Why didn’t I tell anyone? Because I knew he was bad for me. He was like a drug though. When I was with him, things were okay. So long as he didn’t bring up the others. At this point, he’d also started gaslighting me; “That’s not what I said.”, “I was drunk, I didn’t mean it. You can’t hold it against me.”, “We didn’t set that in stone. I can’t cancel on B.” so that didn’t help with my mental health.
I guess at a certain point, I wanted out but I didn’t know how. Cutting someone like that off is always the best move. However, every time I’d distance myself he’d become more affectionate and loving. I felt like a failure, unlovable (literally, he told me he no longer loved me after being the first one to say it) and trapped. It led to hospitalisation. That prompted a month-long silence from him. “I’ve dealt with girls like you before. You all do it to me.” He told me.
He got back in touch, told me he missed me that I was beautiful. I fell for it.
Within a month, there was a new girl on the scene. Someone from his past. I was told not to worry, she was just a friend. A fight ensued when he sent me away for the first time ever after telling me about her when we were at the cinema. He couldn’t be bothered with me told me sometimes and he wouldn’t want to see me. I just had to accept that. Being one of my strong moments I questioned the arrangement “So we only meet if YOU want me?” Apparently, that wasn’t fair and it wasn’t my fault that I always wanted him. I felt so cheap. Dirty. I knew it was because he’d seen her that day, and arrived to me late. It was actually my mum’s birthday (death, issues… another post) and he actually got angry with me for being upset about this. I hadn’t told him for this very reason.
A week later, he’d slept with her, loved her and was probably going to be his girlfriend so he couldn’t talk to me anymore. The crushing blow, I don’t know what made me ask but his response to ‘am I not beautiful anymore?’ was “you have always been ordinary looking.”
Now, any normal, well-adjusted person would have ditched him back in October when all her friends were screaming there was something off about the situation. They certainly would have walked away when the efforts of creating an awesome Christmas knowing he’d be alone on Christmas Day was essentially ‘fuck off while I bang other women without feeling guilt’.
Back down the rabbit hole I went. I thought I was certifiable. Doctors claim not. Just a bit of sleep is needed; medication change and sleeping pills rammed down my throat. This wasn’t what helped me move on. Hell, even now if I’m drunk I miss him. Not him really. The idea of the romantic man from the start who said ALL the things I’d never heard or believed would be said to me.
What helped me was an online community. An app called LYF.
I’ve been reluctant to share this, because I like the anonymity of the site. I had hidden my identity completely, as the app gives this option. However, the stronger I’ve gotten the less I’ve wanted to hide. This is MY journey, MY pain and I must embrace it. I went through most of it alone. So me publishing it here opens me up to you all finding me and reading my story. I must be okay with that. (The biggest fear is not being believed)
Now, what is amazing about this app is what the anonymity brings with it. You can be truthful and candid. There are things posted there that I would never tell my friends and I’d certainly not post here.
It also helped me reach out in times of weakness. For example, I was petrified that last weekend, at my brother’s wedding he would get in touch. Mainly because it was the ONE TIME I didn’t want him to. The last time I felt okay about not hearing from him a box of my things arrived at my door with a formal typed out note. Set me back, I can tell you.
I also told the community who were following my journey when I’d have a slip and try and reach out. (Hello! I’m fucked up. Drunk me makes stupid, crafty choice… such as signing up to a postcard app and sending him a qwerty tee. I was very pissed with myself the morning after I did that because I WANTED THAT tee!) They remind me that’s part of the process and to be kinder to myself. I try.
There’s a discover section if you’re not quite ready to delve into your own journey. You’ll very quickly see that you’re not alone. Sometimes that’s all people need. When you’re ready, it’s painless to follow and I’ve yet to have any trolls. (When I posted an eye infection, someone did unhelpfully tell me they thought it was a tumour but I put that down to individual eccentricities rather than a deliberate attempt to upset or cause me stress)
It does seem to be a new app, and therefore there are some teething problems. For example, I’ve not been able to access the app for the last few days while at home with my father. It does need wi-fi to access the content. I’m not sure if this is to do with data protection.
Also, I’m often finding that because of its layout people give me advice based upon the one post. They don’t go back to read the whole story; mainly because it is hard to reach those early posts. There’s not page jumps but a reach the bottom of the page and more uploads.
For me, now being of sound mind and strong resilience (I only get a pang when I see something Rick and Morty related) when someone responds with ‘reach out to him, tell him this.’ My voice is able to go ‘fuck that. It’s a bad idea AND you don’t WANT that.’
Thanks to this app, I’ve now blocked him from everything I can. It doesn’t matter that he blocked me first, he’d have gotten back in touch eventually once the novelty of this new girl had worn off. I have deleted that pesky postcard app (drunk Hannah is a menace) and I’m making a conscious effort to drink less. Aside from last weekend, at my brother’s wedding. Only, that was the first time I didn’t attempt to contact him.
I also left at a decent hour, knowing I had enough to drink, and watched a film at his house with one of his friends. I had a bad hangover the next day but it still didn’t stop me being happy that I’m now free to have what my brother has; love, family, respect, partnership and trust. All things I threw out the window, along with a part of myself I’m building back up; my self esteem.
Until then, I will still be seeking the support of the community of LYF and I hope, should you need it, they’ll be there for you.
Be strong, be happy. You are loved!
3 thoughts on “Mental Health- The Rabbit Hole and the App that saved me #mentalhealthmatterso”
Dear wonderful friend, bravest of the brave and perhaps almost the most geeky of my chums, thank you for this barehearted post (I made up a word to describe your writing. Be impressed Han!) on behalf of many many people out there who suffer at the whim of another.
You are stronger.
You are better.
You are loved by many.
(Even Groot had to start as a tiny root xxx)
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These are such beautiful words, thank you xxx