I want to talk about the after of a mental illness. The after when you are medically stable or not in need of therapy. The after when everyone around you, your friends and family, think that you’re back to normal, as if normal is something that either exists or something that should be aimed for. Funny thing is, most of the time, the after of a mental illness means learning to live with it, not living with its absence. It means learning to accommodate for your brain in ways that people who have never experienced mental illness don’t have to. Some mental illnesses can ‘go away’ so that you aren’t bothered by them ever again. You might have a brief bout of depression or an episode of anxiety that never bobs its head over into clinical illness again. Most times that isn’t the case, not really, and we don’t talk enough about learning to live with a brain that is chronically unwell or has the potential to be so, for the rest of your life.
I ran my first marathon yesterday! It was a super hot, super hilly course, but with really good views over the city. I saw people I follow on Instagram (which was weird, like seeing a celebrity) and I have never known community spirit like it. I learnt some stuff over the whole 26.2 miles, mostly while my brain was screaming at me to stop.
I was going to do a series of posts about marathon training but quelle surprise, I forgot completely, so here is my one post about my upcoming first marathon the day before I run it. I’m hoping to do a post race article but then again I hope to do a lot of things so don’t believe me too much.
The funny thing they never really talk about having an eating disorder happens after you get better. Whatever ‘better’ means to you. They don’t always make it clear that there will come a time when you will miss your eating disorder. That you will miss being sick.
I was 21 before I tried to ask if not wanting to have sex was normal. I remember laughter, because what a stupid question, of course everyone wants to have sex at some point in their lives. I remember jokes being made about my ex and how he clearly wasn’t doing a good enough job. I remember laughing it off, grabbing another drink and moving the topic swiftly on.
I love Christmas, and I love to love Christmas. I love the fact that the entire month of December means Christmas. I love that every house has fairy lights up, and that makes everywhere look more welcoming and homely. I love that the dark is less dark, that we let a little bit of light in at one of the darkest times of the year. I love that it becomes okay to stay in with blankets and watch telly. I love that the TV is 90% reruns of everything that is good in the world.
I haven’t written in a while, for several reasons, mainly because A) I was writing about other stuff and my brain has a habit of getting obsessed with things and running with them and B) because nothing felt real enough to form sentences about. The whole ‘not real’ thing is something which I carry around with me and have done for a long time now. There’s no clear cut day when I remember waking up and feeling that the world had changed but I can’t remember the last time I woke up and felt that the world was real. So a while. It has a name if what I have described to you sounds crazy (and yes, it really is a lot of the time) – I deal with depersonalisation and derealisation. For me, they both interact and have their tentacles wound around each other so tightly a lot of the time I can’t distinguish which one is worse then the other, and I think that’s true for a lot of people who live with this too. There’s a lot of us out there – around 1.3 million people in the UK, or 2% of the population – about the same percentage of people who have green eyes (so also me).