My True Story #No78

“My Instagram shows adventures and my car and my dog and normal “insta” things. I’ve not yet spoken there about my 18 months, only those close to me know what happened...” - Maise

“I had to come to a stop last year when my lung spontaneously collapsed and I contracted pneumonia and glandular fever towards the end of my lengthy hospital stay. I already had anxiety around my health and hospitals. My mental health plummeted during my recovery; I felt so useless and broken. During my recovery, I had my routine smear test. A few days later I received a phone call from the hospital - I was to have urgent surgery to remove abnormal high grade cells in my cervix. More hospital time. More recovery time. Is this my life now? I hope people don’t see my struggle. My partner became fed up, the relationship became toxic. But I adopted a puppy! The best thing to ever happen to me. Unfortunately my partner’s love for her wore off, and although his steel toe cap boots won’t leave a physical scar thankfully, she has become more anxious and weary, as have I. I wouldn’t leave the house, he liked it that way, I would ring him every 2 hours, I would only wear make up for him. I realised what was happening to me, how vulnerable I had become. I asked him to leave, we needed a break, he left for a week. He came back to talk things through. That morning ended with me calling 999 fearing for his safety as he locked himself in the bathroom after saying “you’re depressing, you make me depressed. I’ll teach you a lesson, I’ll cut my throat” and punching a hole in our kitchen door because I wouldn’t come out. The police arrived, took separate statements as he gathered his things and his mum collected him. It all became apparent, what he had done to me, I wasn’t broken, but he had broke me. Taking my life crossed my mind a couple of times in the days after. I was in that dark place. Feeling worthless, useless, vulnerable, lonely, but somewhat proud.

But I found help. Through talking and sharing.

My Instagram shows adventures and my car and my dog and normal “insta” things. I’ve not yet spoken there about my 18 months, only those close to me know what happened. I deleted all social media for a few months early this year, I needed a break. Fast forward 3 months since he left; I’m back at work part time in a job that I love, I have just completed my first round of therapy - I have been discharged and await separate specialised counselling, I’m volunteering to support domestic abuse and mental health battlers and survivors, I have a beautiful home with my beautiful dog, we are finally living.

Some days it’s hard, and the bad thoughts creep in, and my anxiety wonders what everyone else thinks of it, can they tell? but it’s all about the reaction to those thoughts. It’s okay to feel them, but we choose how they end. Choose yourself, every time. Choose to accept help, to keep walking through the tunnel. Because it’s so worth it for what’s on the other side. And use your rock bottom story to pull someone from theirs. X”

True Story told by @ly05nam