A Safe Place

It's no secret that I have been really struggling for the past few months. At the beginning, I tried reaching out to people, but when it didn't work the inevitable happened and I was caught in a downward spiral, not stopping until I hit rock bottom. Let me tell you, rock bottom is not a place you want to be. If you're unfortunate enough to have visited, you will know the emotional and physical pain that accompanies this hideous destination.

Being my own worst enemy, I then proceeded to beat myself up because I wasn't able to get myself better. I knew exactly what I should do, but the irrational side of me was shouting down my rational self. I felt weak, and thanks to my anxiety isolated, lost, alone and rejected by everyone. I felt that I wasn't worthy of being loved, I wasn't worthy to even breathe the air everyone else shares and really not worthy of living.

Nothing I did, made things better. For two and a half months, I cried every single day. Sometimes, just a few times, other times all day every day. In the past I have been able to hide my tears from the girls. Not so this time. This time, my daughters have seen their mum sobbing her heart out on a daily basis. They've seen me in a heap on the sofa and a collapsed crying mess on the stairs. They've taken over cooking dinners because it's been too overwhelming for me, and they have effectively cared for me.

Not only has anxiety stopped me from reaching out for fear of further rejection, but it has kept me trapped in the house. My home, which should be my haven, has become a prison. When I have tried to go out alone, I don't get further than the top of the road before anxiety turns me into a blubbering mess and I have to get back to the house. It's not just the house that has become a prison though, the irrational thoughts in my head have turned my mind into a prison also.

It got to a point where I simply didn't know how to live anymore, but worse than that, I didn't want to. I went to bed every night and prayed to a God I'm not sure I believe in, that I wouldn't wake up. Imagine my disappointment when I did. It's not that I thought everyone would be better off without me. I'm not that stupid. I simply couldn't stand the pain anymore. I couldn't face another day of fighting. I was exhausted.

Things came to head and I knew I had to find help. I typed 'self help with suicidal thoughts' into Google and came across a page with links to various charities, which included the Maytree Sanctuary. I sat for what seemed like forever holding my phone in my hand and wondering if it was a good idea to call them or not. Like I had a choice? For me there was no choice. The Maytree was my only hope. My GP had done all she could in an overstretched and under resourced NHS, so I called and talked to a volunteer for ages. I cried a lot and over the course of three weeks I spoke to various people, finally going to the Maytree on 28th December for my assessment. It was traumatic, but a relief. These people understood, they cared, they didn't judge me or tell me I was selfish. At the end of my assessment I was offered my one and only stay.

I stayed at the Maytree from 5th to 9th January, telling only a few people where I was going. I was apprehensive, wondering what the volunteers would be like and what the other guests would be like. I needn't have worried. From the moment I walked through the door, I felt safe and comfortable. There were two other guests and by the end of our first day together we'd bonded so well, it was like we'd always known one another. I suppose that's bound to happen, we were/ are all similar ages and were all seeking hope and strength to carry on. It's a unique set of circumstances in which we were thrown together. On my penultimate day a new guest arrived and another firm bond was built.

Maytree gave me the opportunity to get away from my home and my problems, whilst allowing me all the one to one time with volunteers and coordinators to talk through all the things that had happened to lead me to the place I'd landed in. Through talking, I was able to process everything and gain clarity. Yes, I cried, but do you know what? By Sunday, I had found me. Not the old me, but a new me. A me that is stronger, more confident, more determined, more caring and more aware of my own needs and what I need to do to take care of me. You see, for me, being able to talk and socialise with others is key to looking after my mental health. My first words when I walked through the door of Maytree were 'There's people to talk to.'

That's what I needed. I needed to talk it all out in order to process everything. Stuck at home alone and unable to reach out, everything was just going round and round my head. My irrational self had taken control and was distorting my thought process and although I was able to recognise what was happening, I didn't have the right tools to fix it. Maytree helped me to find the tools and the strength. They helped me make sense of why I react the way I do to certain situations and what I need to do to look after myself.

Most of all, Maytree has taught me to be kind to myself. That's a big lesson to learn for someone who sets themselves higher standards than they expect from anyone else, but it's a lesson I have to learn to thrive and ultimately to survive. I can't guarantee I will never slip back to that deep, dark place, but you can bet I won't go down without a fight. I also know that being back at home isn't going to be easy. Already there have been a few tears, but that's OK. Rather than dwelling on it, I can think back to my Maytree stay and draw strength from what I learnt there. And yes, I am still in contact with my new friends.