I was, I am.

Before I delve into the next part of my story, I wanted to give you more of an insight into the ball of neuroses that is my mind. But I wanted to do so with as much honesty as possible; no re-written sentences and deleted words. During one of my sojourns in a psychiatric facility, I did a stream of consciousness writing exercise. We were asked to write two pieces; the first as the person we were before our current mental health difficulties took hold, and the second as the person we were in that moment. I pulled the two pages out recently for the first time since I wrote them, and my beliefs about who I am have changed very little since that day. So I am going to share them with you, in the hope that you might better understand how I ended up where I did; or that you might see something of yourself in it and know you aren't alone in your thoughts. Bear in mind that I wrote this without thinking, so forgive me for the poor quality.

Then and Gone

I am a quiet, introverted girl who enjoys the simple things in life. I love curling up with a book. I like clean bed sheets and hot showers. I like holding my boyfriends warm hand and his lips on mine. I like talking to my sister and my dad, even though they are far away sometimes. I love crisp Autumn evenings and pumpkin carving. I love cold Winter days and bright Christmas lights. I love deeply and openly and I am not afraid to trust my heart. I educate myself in my spare time to exercise my brain. I like to cook and delight in food; a cold glass of rosé wine with a friend over a trivial joke or a deep conversation. I care about others and can put their needs ahead of my own. I laugh often. I want to see my friends. I listen to music. I love to watch movies for hours and discuss them at length. I make jokes, I work hard and am happy making my house a home. I like walking in the evening and then cosying up on the couch. I am friendly and can talk to others, and even though I'm weird, people like me. I have had some bad times in life but I have fought back and I am winning.

Now

I was born to parents who hated each other for most of my life. My mother tried to leave me when I was one. My father left when I was seven and then I became the hated one; the symbol of all that was wrong in my mothers life. She remarried when I was e;even and he didn't want me either because I wasn't perfect. At school I was the freak, at home I was the unwanted and in my head I became the ugly one. At eighteen my mother and sister left me and I was alone. At eighteen I tried to kill myself for the first time and I was sad when I failed. I have never been enough for my parents, I needed to be replaced with others. I have hated myself for as long as I can remember. I am lost, broken, disgusting. I am damaged goods. I have been beaten by woman and man for my crimes. I hurt people. My life is a series of failures with no end. I cannot remember what love is. I find no pleasure in life. I remain only to not hurt the few who still love me, but I am unworthy of their love. I am a waste of space, I am destined to die and I despise myself. It is all my fault.


When I had to read them out, I cried for the person I had lost. Grieved for her. I no longer mourn who I used to be, I have long since accepted that the old me is gone. Which is probably sadder than anything else I have written.