Wonderland.

“We're all mad here. Im mad. You're mad” 

Intriguingly, and somewhat ironically, I have been finding that aspects of my life can be likened to those of the events in the children's fantasy tale of Alice in Wonderland. Alice, having followed an odd looking rabbit concerned about being late, finds herself falling very rapidly down a strange and scary hole,

“Down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.” 

before emerging in a room of strange delicacies that completely alter her body and being faced with a set of doors that she cannot fit through.

While Alice's experiences are a little reminiscent of an acid trip gone wrong, her situation vividly reminds me of my own. I feel as though I'm falling, and each time I think I have hit rock bottom, the ground beneath me crumbles and I continue to fall, and I, like Alice, have no idea how in the world I will get out again. I stare at the person who is supposed to be me in the mirror but my body warps before my very eyes, each day I feel larger and less sure of what I am than before and I loathe what meets my eyes.

“How puzzling all these changes are! I'm never sure what I'm going to be, from one minute to another.” 

I find myself presented with options for my future, similar to the doors which Alice struggles to get through in the story, but I can never fit through the doorway that could lead to the potential wonderland. So I am stuck in perpetual free fall, utterly lost and bewildered, unable to make a decision about anything and unconsciously doing everything in my power to destroy everything in my life that is good.

“Alice came to a fork in the road. 'Which road do I take?' she asked.

'Where do you want to go?' responded the Cheshire Cat. 

'I don't know,' Alice answered. 

'Then,' said the Cat, 'it doesn't matter.” 

Alice had a wonderland to look forward to, after a terrifying yet exhilarating adventure. This is where the difference in the our situations lies; all I see before me is darkness, pain and death. I cannot see that things will ever get better, or that I have a hope of a life better than this painful existence. And there's nothing wonderful about that.

Strength.

Living with a mental illness is all consuming. It drains every drop of energy you have and leaves you feeling hollow, numb and utterly miserable. So often, the hardest thing to do is to carry on living and attempting to function as normal. Sometimes, it seems impossible to do. But I genuinely believe that within all of us lies an almost superhuman strength. It is this strength that drags you out of bed in the mornings and that makes you smile even though you're dying inside. The strength comes from a place no unchallenged human mind can unlock, but in the face of adversity, we discover that we are far stronger than we ever believed possible. It is this strength that has kept you alive thus far, and this strength will continue to pulse through you when life is unbearable. It does not make you feel better or make things easier but rather gives you the ability to work through the hardship with the hope of a life that, one day, may be worth living. The really wonderful thing is that this strength is by no means separate from you as a person. You are the one who is immensely strong and powerful. You are the one who finds the ability to carry on living when you would rather be dead. You are outstanding, beautiful and you have the power to conquer the unbearable pain that for so long has crippled you. And you must remember that you are not alone. Your strength will naturally draw other people to you, and together, you can climb your Everest. 

So I'm back...

Although I'm pretty sure that nobody will have missed my writing, I'm back. I've been away for a while, staying on a psychiatric ward for acutely mentally ill adolescents. It's a little odd- despite being someone who has always been able to express their experiences well, I find it almost impossible to talk or write in detail about the ward. I was there for nearly three months and although I met some of my best friends there, and it stopped me from killing myself, it was really horrible. These last few months have been utterly unbearable. Again, oddly, I'm lost for words. My blog is generally written with intent to provoke thought in the reader, or to encourage others, but I don't seem to be able to think of anything to say. All I can say is: I'm still alive, despite everything, despite all of my attempts to end my life. And if you're reading this then you, too, are alive. And that is something. Currently, you are winning the frantic battle that rages on in your body and mind. Even if your life is as you want it to be, it is still an achievement that you are alive. So well done. Keep going.