We found love in a hopeless place.

I should begin by apologising for the predictably clichéd Rihanna reference. As cringe-worthy as it may sound, this lyric could not ring truer to my experience of finding love. 

I have, for the past four years, been crippled by mental illness and have spent the majority of those years in hospital. Through endless days of depression, anxiety, borderline personality disorder, self-harm and anorexia, my life was stripped of happiness, of comfort, of enjoyment, of love and of hope; that is, until I met Jordan. We met as inpatients on a locked eating disorder ward, a place utterly devoid of hope. Alarms, blood and vomit, screaming and darkness, locked doors with no keys, loneliness. To some, a relationship between two people with mental health problems may sound like a disaster waiting to happen, as in many cases these relationships can be, but with Jordan, it is different. 

He builds me up more than my illnesses wear me down. He makes me feel loved, precious and beautiful. He has seeped into every relationship in my life; my friendships are so much stronger, my family life is much less strained. He gives me the strength to carry on when I cannot see the point in living. He is my reason to recover, my sustenance and my hope. When I am with him, I am a version of myself I never thought possible: I am the Alice I have always yearned to be. But more than that, I can bring him out of the darkness a little, I can hold him, comfort him, love him, and make him feel just as he makes me. I am part of someone else, I am not alone, and neither is he, and that feels wonderful. There are, of course, difficulties in being in a relationship where both people have mental health problems: we argue, we are overly sensitive, we have to worry on a deeper, more dangerous level about each other, but somehow, we always seem to find a way through those trials and each time, we come out stronger than before. Since meeting him, I have left that ward, and I am slowly but surely recovering. Every day is still a struggle, but now my burdens are shared with him, and his with me. I have hope in my life again, and laughter, music, love and tenderness. So, in a way, I am so glad that I have been through, and continue to go through, so much pain because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been so lucky as to meet him.

 

The Wanderer Returns.

Good evening to you all, dear readers. It has been a disgustingly long time since I have put pen to paper (or more accurately, finger to keyboard)! Since starting a new therapeutic programme last year, my mind has been so overwhelmingly full that the notion of articulating my utter confusion has become entirely laughable. I did today, however, stumble across a wonderful blog which inspired me to once again don the old writing cap and attempt to share with you a little of my mind. 
Having read through my previous blog entries, I realised that I tend to only write posts with a definite point, whether it be moral sentiment or (highly flawed) philosophical thought. While articles of such a nature are not in themselves a bad thing, I find that not only are they incredibly taxing to write (one does, after all, only have a limited repertoire when it comes to deep, meaningful topics), but they can weigh a little heavy on the hearts of those that happen upon them. That being so, I have decided that I will give this blog a little re-vamp, a 'buff and polish', if you will. I will try (and most likely fail) to continue to share my commentaries on weighty topics, but to intersperse them with lighter, more frivolous posts on the mishaps of being, well, absolutely batty.
On that note, I must love you and leave you, reader, for dinner time (aka TORTURE) is upon us, and is, unfortunately, mandatory. I promise, however, that another post will grace your screens in the near future; until then, listen to my current obsession and ache at the brilliance. Over and out.

Endings.

Endings are always hard. They throw up so many emotions, from intense affection to total abandonment. They can make you doubt yourself and your feelings and can make you question your ability to cope with hardship. For me, next week will probably the hardest of my life. I find endings and goodbyes torturous and I am beginning to realise that I am grieving the relationships that have been so helpful to me and, now that I am getting older, have to end. I have to say goodbye to two people who have been instrumental in keeping me alive these last two years. I have relied so much on these relationships- they have helped me to survive my despair and build resilience to my distress. They have shown me that in the future, I could have a life full of happiness, friendship, love, comfort and satisfaction, instead of the turbulent, unstable and utterly miserable life (if you can call it a life) that I have been living for so long. I also have to say goodbye to my school, which used to be my paradise and in more recent months has become my hiding place. The thought of not ever seeing these people again is so painful; it makes me want to die- I do not feel as though I will survive these endings. I am terrified that I will be forgotten and that once I leave, I will cease to exist in their minds, which is a grim thought for me, as I derive comfort from knowing that people are thinking of me. What I have been noticing, however, is that while endings will inevitably be painful and full of raw emotions which sometimes will make me want to destroy myself, they can also be incredibly powerful and helpful in building inner strength and moving on to a better place. For although these relationships have been immensely helpful, life saving in fact, the truth is that I have not recovered and that I seem to be stuck in this rut, and this is where an ending can be important in the healing process. If I do not move on, although these relationships may help me to survive the pain, it can mean that the pain does not go away. It is only when these relationships come to end that I have to learn to stand on my own two feet and move on, to grow and to thrive. It breaks my heart to have to say goodbye to all of these people who have meant everything to me, and although I feel such a terrible loss at these important relationships coming to an end, I know that, unlike genuine grief, the people who mean so much to me are not actually dying; they will survive the ending, as will I, and all people involved will continue to benefit from the relationship for years to come. I will never forget the people who have meant so much to me, and I hope beyond all hope that they will not forget me. Even though the next seven days are going to be agonising for me, I will be a stronger person at the end of next week than I am today. These endings mark a new, hopeful beginning for me, one that may lead to a happy life and that is a tiny ray of hope to hold onto in the darkness of the coming week.