I’ll be honest, this is a question that I have never asked myself before. It’s only something that has started rattling around my head in the last couple of weeks after seeing someone have a manic episode on television and how it can be good and bad.

I am talking about a professional darts player by the name of James Wade. He is a very good chucker of the arrows, a very successful one and he has also been very open about his bipolar. For those of you who don’t know the world of darts, just before Christmas is the start of the Professional Darts Corporation World Darts Championships. It is the big one for darts players and fans around the world. It’s played at Alexandra Palace in London and it runs over the Christmas period with the final being played on New Year’s Day.

On 19 December 2018, James Wade played a match against Seigo Asada. After winning the second set, James celebrated, effectively, in Seigo’s face. I was watching the game live and as James did this, I said to myself (well, actually I said it to the cat) “that’s very unlike James”. In his post-match interview, after winning, James said that he “wanted to hurt him”. Again, a comment came from the comfort of my sofa of “Oh James, that’s not like you”. Post-match, one of the commentators likened his behaviour to bullying and said it was very aggressive. I’m sure there were thousands of other fans all over the world who had the same reaction I did. We don’t see this sort of behaviour from James. It’s not like him and I immediately had my suspicions that he was dealing with a manic episode.

The following day, James issued a statement on Twitter apologising for his behaviour and stating that he was going through a hypomania episode prior to the match and basically, this spilled over into the game. As we all know, I don’t like the idea of someone using mental health issues as an excuse for bad behaviour. James clearly doesn’t either. He apologised profusely for his actions and declared what he was going through as a way of explaining the behaviour, not excusing it. Unfortunately, the trolls took to Twitter and James was subjected to a barrage of abuse. People said that the apology wasn’t genuine and he had been told to make that statement. He was accused of being racist. He was told to withdraw from the competition. The Twitterati hoped that he would get banned. Indeed, at his next match, the crowd at Alexandra Palace were clearly against him and were booing him throughout most of the game. Thankfully, on that night, James let his darts do the talking and came through that match. Trust me when I tell you that there have been other behaviours during the course of last year that were equally as disgusting and weren’t treated with such disrespect by the Twitterati. To my fellow darts fans, anyone remember Anderson versus Price?

So, why tell you all of this? Well, that night made me start to think about my own hypomania episodes over the years and how they have affected my work. Anybody that has worked in the City for Investment Banks or Corporate Law Firms knows that when you’re getting close to the end of a deal, things get a little stressful to say the least. You pretty much live, breathe, eat and sleep that deal until it closes. The chances are you don’t go home for a few days and, if you do, it’s literally for a shower and change and back to the office. As a PA, the nights get so much longer, your weekends disappear and, the chances are, you end up working through the night on at least more than one occasion to get the documents done and ready for signing.

During those times, I was actually extremely grateful for a manic episode. I was literally Superwoman. There pretty much wasn’t anything I couldn’t do. I could churn out documents, I could construct complex client invoices, nothing was a problem for me. It wasn’t without its difficulties though. I would still have to try to channel the mania into the work and very occasionally it would spill over and I would snap at colleagues. However, most of the time because I internalise so much, it would be when I eventually got home that it would spill out. Mostly this would be not being able to relax and rest which, when you’ve already been awake for nearly 24 hours, isn’t brilliant. I would still self-harm during these times also. As much as self-harming for me is a controlled release of pain, the pain could sometimes be that I couldn’t sleep and I liken the self-harming at these times to draining the remaining mania out of me.

The biggest negative to any manic episode is the slump that comes afterwards. It is absolutely epic. As great as the high could be, the subsequent low would be really bad. I could work for 4 days straight on little to no sleep to help get a deal done and then I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed for 2 days afterwards. It would take every effort I would have just to get out of bed to go to the bathroom. My body would feel like an absolute dead weight and my brain just couldn’t take in any information at all.

Since not being able to work, I try to channel the manic episodes into housework. It’s even more difficult to channel a manic episode now that I am unable to work because there is only so much housework to do. I even manage to tackle ironing mountain when I’m in a manic episode. Anybody who knows me really well knows how much I loathe ironing so, again, a manic episode can sometimes be helpful!

I genuinely don’t know if a manic episode is better than the periods of depression. Looking back, when I was working, I was clearly much better at channelling and managing a manic episode than I ever have been at managing a period of depression. I’m going to assume that’s because the manic episodes are shorter than the periods of depression and I had a damn good reason and place to channel the mania – the City of London! Since being off work, it’s much more difficult to manage a manic episode but I’m still channelling it into something relatively constructive. Clearly, in my life in general, I need to find new distraction techniques in managing mania and depression and not resort to self-harming.

So, a big thank you to James Wade for making me look at my own episodes of mania and review how I have channelled and managed them over the years, or not as the case may be. It has certainly given me some pointers on things that I need to work on when the next episode strikes!

 

Well thank goodness that’s over with.  That was a really tough Christmas and New Year this time round.  2018’s was a lot tougher than 2017’s.  I know why.  At Christmas in 2017, my family was coming to my house on Boxing Day so I was extremely busy with all the preparations for that.  Then, after they had gone on Boxing Day, Jack and Jill had a leak in their bathroom that evening so I spent that evening and the next few days helping them with water and food supplies until a plumber could come out and fix the leak.  That kept me totally distracted and before I knew it, we were at New Year’s eve and I’d made it!

2018 was different.  I hated the whole run up to Christmas.  I didn’t want it.  The morning of Christmas Day was very quiet.  It was just the cat and I.  I ate Christmas cake for breakfast and stayed in my PJs most of the morning.  Now, to some, I understand that would be an absolute joy but I hated it.  I watched some seriously crap TV and then got ready to go to Jack and Jill’s for Christmas Dinner.  That was a lovely evening I have to say.  Great food, great company and a few games of cards, with Jack trying to cheat but not getting away with a thing!

Boxing Day was good.  That was my Christmas Day.  I drove to my sister’s house, quite possibly in record-breaking time as traffic was very light.  The car was loaded with Christmas presents.  The kids were on great form and Mum and Dad arrived in good time also.  Again, great food and great company and some absolutely fabulous presents.  An emotional present from my Grandma though.  She was going through an old desk of Granddad’s and found two necklaces that he had bought.  One for me and one for my sister.  Granddad has been gone for nearly 25 years and to then get a Christmas present from him, it has already become a treasured possession.  I stayed over at my sister’s that night and drove back to London the next day, not so much in record breaking time, courtesy of some broken down cars on the M25!

Then there is that awful time between Christmas and New Year when nobody really knows what day of the week it is and you’re eating chocolate for breakfast and wondering how soon is too soon to start on the Baileys.  I kept myself distracted during this time by trying to find homes for my new Christmas presents and trying to decide what my New Year resolutions would be.  I pretty much immediately discounted the usual of packing up smoking and losing half my body weight, especially given the amount of chocolates and tins of biscuits I (very gratefully) received for Christmas.

The worst day was New Year’s Eve.  That’s when it hit me.  I was at Jack and Jill’s surrounded by people, good people, people who I love and respect, members of my “London family”.  I was surrounded by all of these great people and I felt so incredibly alone.  Traditionally, I’m not a fan of New Year’s Eve.  You have to pay to get in anywhere.  You can never get to the bar.  You are supposed to be full of happiness and joy and it’s all a bit of an anti-climax in the end.  I much preferred it when I worked behind the bar in pubs when I was younger.  I was getting paid to go to a party!  So, theoretically, going to Jack and Jill’s should have been a fabulous idea.  It was.  I just wasn’t expecting to feel the way I did.  Boom.  Hit me like a sledgehammer.  Exploded like you wouldn’t believe.  I held it together whilst I was at Jack and Jill’s.  Well, I thought I did.  On New Year’s Day, I got a text message from Jill asking if I wanted to go round for a bite to eat – just snacky stuff, so I did.  They’d clocked that I wasn’t doing so well on New Year’s Eve and I started to cry.  I wasn’t expecting that either.  I haven’t shed a tear all over the festive period and, just when I thought I’d made it through unscathed, the overwhelming feelings crept up on me and came out.  Dammit.  I hate it when that happens.  

I put a lot of it down to just being tired.  I got a good night’s sleep last night for the first time in months, a proper 5 hours which, for me, is good.  So, I wake up this morning and it’s all over for another year.  The forced happiness, laughing, joking and smiles are packed away for another year.  Back to my “normality”.  Maybe time to change that.

So, what are my New Year’s resolutions for 2019?  I’ve got to push myself this year.  I’m going to work hard on my distraction techniques.  I want to be playing the piano properly again and not the just the little dips in and out.  I want to be reading books again.  I want to get my focus and concentration back.  I have to work on my self-confidence and self-worth.  I haven’t exactly figured out how to do that yet, but I’m sure I’ll get some ideas as the year goes on.  Reading those back, they are some pretty big resolutions for someone with BPD and Bipolar and it’s going to take a lot of hard work.  However, I’m glad to see the back of 2018 and am going into 2019 hopeful.  It’s been a long time since I’ve gone into a New Year hopeful.  I may even dip my toe back into the dating pond but let’s not get too ahead of ourselves!

Whatever your New Year’s resolutions, the big one should be to be kind to yourself.  Life isn’t easy, there will be challenges and obstacles and there will be days that are so much tougher than others.  That’s okay.  If you just make it through those days, that’s more than enough.  Try again the following day.  Be kind to yourself, give yourself a little push every now and again, challenge yourself out of your comfort zone.  Don’t beat yourself up if you don’t get instant results or the result you expected.  Take a step back, re-group and try again.  You will get there.  I will get there. 

Happy New Year.

The last few weeks have been, quite frankly, overwhelming. Hence, my radio silence. I have literally just hunkered down and tried to power through it. I’ve not buried my head in the sand, as is so often the case, I’ve just tried to roll with the punches and get through it. There have been deaths and funerals, a 100th Birthday party, ESA paperwork, trouble with the car, x-rays on my shoulder, a wisdom tooth removal, an infection in the whole left side of my face and trying to get ready for Christmas.

Do you know what? You can keep Christmas this year. I don’t want it. Across the country, people are complaining about how quickly it’s come around this year. Well, it has. I know it’s the same day every year and it’s not like we don’t know about it! Let’s face it, some shops can’t help themselves but start displaying Christmas items after the August Bank Holiday! It’s thrust down our throats from early September and really gets ramped up after Halloween.

I haven’t put up one Christmas decoration this year, no tree, nothing, whereas the rest of my road is lit up like Blackpool illuminations. I have, however, made the dining table home for the cards that I have received, which is about the extent of my nod to Christmas this year.

Christmas is when I get to do a substantial amount of mileage in the car so having battery issues with it last weekend and having to dish out over £100 to have it repaired 7 days before the Big Day was not on my wish list. Before I knew exactly what was wrong with the car and how long it would take to fix, my Mum offered to pay for a hire car over the festive period for me. That was so incredibly sweet of her. However, I had already researched how much a hire car would cost and a 3 door Ford Fiesta to cover the period that I would need (only a few days) was £373! Oh, I fell over. I think Mum nearly had a heart attack too. Thankfully, as my car is fixed, Mum is off the hook.

On Christmas Day itself, I shall be at Jack and Jill’s. It’s Boxing Day when I get to drive to Lowestoft to visit my sister and the folks are meeting us there so the family will be together on Boxing Day. Unfortunately, Grandma can’t come this year as she is still having chemotherapy and has a hospital appointment the day after Boxing Day that the hospital won’t change and it’s too much for Mum and Dad to drive to and from Lowestoft in one day so we are all staying over. I am really looking forward to Boxing Day because the last time we all went to Lowestoft, we had an absolutely great time and it was really good fun.

It’s Christmas Day that I don’t want.

At the end of November, I went home to celebrate my Great Aunt’s 100th Birthday. It was an absolutely lovely day and Auntie was in great form. However, as I was leaving to drive back to London, my Mum gave me Christmas presents to open on Christmas Day. I did say to her to just take them to Lowestoft and I would open them with the family on Boxing Day, but she gave them to me anyway. I know, practically, why Mum has done this. It’s because they are taking Grandma home first on Boxing Day before driving to Lowestoft and the car will be packed to the rafters so, any way of saving space is good for them.

However, the last thing I want to do is sit at home on Christmas Day morning on my own and open presents. I can’t think of anything worse. I know I’m going to Jack and Jill’s for Christmas dinner and I will have a really lovely time with them. But Christmas Day morning, especially knowing how much of an early bird I can be, is going to suck big time. It will just be me and the cat and I’m really not convinced that Bob will show too much enthusiasm when I’m opening presents! Although, she may do when I scrunch up the wrapping paper and throw it across the living room floor for her to chase.

Last year, I was absolutely fine about being on my own on Christmas morning but, this year, something is different. The only thing I can put it down to is the after effects of knowing that Dave and Alexis got married in September. I think it was different when they were still, technically, single. The fact that the third Mrs Dave will be making his coffee on Christmas morning and watching his face light up when he opens his presents, quite frankly, sucks. Before you all start, I don’t want him back. I am not in love with him anymore. It’s just having that special person that you get to buy a gift, or gifts, for and to see their face when they open it. To have someone to watch Die Hard with which, I do believe, is one of the best Christmas movies ever, in your PJs, on the sofa before the chaos of fitting in all the family really gets underway.

It’s loneliness. I know that I’ve got to do something about “getting back out there”. I have to admit that I’ve not bothered of late in engaging in any online dating sites or, in any moment of desperation, Tinder, and I know full well that my Prince Charming will not just knock on my front door. Indeed, one my friends said to me the other day that my attitude towards it of “can’t be arsed” wasn’t the best thing! I know that he’s absolutely spot on with that.

My New Year’s Resolutions for 2019 will not consist of quitting smoking or eating less crap, because let’s face it, they usually get blown out of the water inside of a fortnight even though I probably should do both! I will endeavour in 2019 to push myself out of my comfort zone and push myself to meet new people and, who knows, maybe 2019 will throw in some good surprises for me.

To ensure that I make it through Christmas relatively unscathed, I have made sure that I have enough of my medications to see me through the silly season. Being with Jack and Jill on Christmas Day, I know I will be able to be honest with them if I’m feeling overwhelmed or not in the best way. I am also safe in the knowledge (although will probably have to keep telling myself) that it will all be over soon and, as soon as blink, we’ll be watching adverts for Easter Eggs and Summer Holidays!

If you are feeling in any way the same regarding the impending festivities, be honest with someone, be it friend or family member. It will all be over soon. You are not alone and it’s okay to reach out for support.

So, you can keep Christmas this year. I want to say goodbye (and good riddance) to 2018 and start afresh in 2019. However, this will not stop me from eating Christmas pudding and Christmas cake.

Whatever you are doing, stay safe and try to enjoy.

Anybody that has finally got their BPD diagnosis knows that is has probably taken a long time just to get to that stage. The problem with BPD is that the symptoms cross over with quite a few other illnesses so pinpointing your illness to BPD can be tricky. I was given different diagnoses before finally getting the diagnosis of BPD 8 years ago.

Not only can this be problematic for the sufferer but it follows on that BPD is, more than likely, not the only condition you from. Again, this is due to the fact that there is such a cross over of symptoms between various illnesses. Also, just even having BPD means that you are also more prone to develop other illnesses than people without BPD.

These include mood disorders, major depressive disorder, bipolar and dysthymia. We are also prone to develop substance abuse, anxiety or panic disorders, PTSD, eating disorders, ADHD and some other personality disorders. (Source: Borderline Personality Disorder Demystified by Robert O. Friedel). When I first read this, none of this surprised me at all. When I first went to see my GP in my early 20s to ask for help and described my symptoms, my GP treated me for depression and I crossed over between major depressive disorder (clinical/chronic depression) and dysthymia. Suffering from chronic depression means you must have experienced five or more of the following symptoms for at least two weeks:

1. You are depressed most of the day, nearly every day. You feel sad or empty and burst into tears for no apparent reason.
2. You’ve lost interest or no longer find enjoyment in activities that usually bring you pleasure.
3. You’re not dieting but you’ve lost a significant amount of weight. This can work the other way also and you’ve gained a lot of weight. The general consensus is about 5% of your body weight either way in a month.
4. You either can’t sleep or sleep too much. Even when you do sleep, it’s not restful and you can have disturbing dreams and/or nightmares.
5. Physical and mental agitation.
6. Feelings of fatigue or low energy levels nearly every day.
7. Feelings of worthlessness or excessive or inappropriate guilt.
8. Significant difficulty thinking or concentrating or being indecisive to the point that it interferes with your ability to function on a daily basis.
9. Recurrent thoughts of death and dying, recurrent thoughts of suicide, a specific plan for suicide or have attempted suicide.

(Source: Borderline Personality Disorder Demystified by Robert O. Friedel)

Dysthymia is similar to the above but there are fewer of them and slightly less severe. However, to be diagnosed with Dysthymia you will have experienced your symptoms for a much longer time and the general consensus is a minimum of the last two years and you cannot have been without these symptoms for more than two months at a time. The symptoms have to have interfered with your ability to function normally. The symptoms can’t be due to any sort of substance abuse and are completely separate to being chronically depressed. During the period of depression, you will have experienced two or more of the following:

1. Poor appetite or overeating.
2. Insomnia or excessive sleeping.
3. Low energy or fatigue.
4. Poor concentration or difficulty making decisions.
5. Feelings of hopelessness.

(Source: Borderline Personality Disorder Demystified by Robert O. Friedel)

Just describing these two conditions makes you realise how complicated the accurate diagnosis of mental health illnesses can be. It also goes some way to explaining how easy it is for any medial professional to assume a diagnosis of a particular mental health illness when it could so easily be something else.

This is the biggest problem with BPD. As we know, I have a side order of Bipolar and a fat chunk of depression alongside mine. As much as my symptoms overlap, I am getting better at distinguishing between the BPD traits, the chronic depression traits and when I move into the Bipolar symptoms. The BPD inability to regulate strong emotions can lead into the symptoms of chronic depression and/or dysthymia.

Bipolar occurs in approximately 10% of those with BPD. Oh goodie, I’m one of the 10%. The best way I can describe Bipolar is that it is essentially chronic depression with some added manic episodes. The manic episodes are brief, usually just a few days and I can achieve so much. It is usually during these manic episodes that I go through the house like a tornado and get all of the housework done in a few hours. I’ll go through all of my paperwork and make sure that my bills are paid and I have even been known, on occasion, to get all of the ironing done! Unfortunately, once the manic episode passes it feels like an even bigger slump back into what is “normal life” of chronic depression.

Quite frankly it’s a juggling act and it has taken a lot of research and reading on my part to be able to differentiate between the symptoms of BPD, depression and Bipolar. The good news is that because I’m not addicted to any substances, at least I can review the information available with a clear(ish) head. The bad news is that for a medical professional, I then don’t tick some of the boxes because any sort of substance abuse usually leads onto the symptoms of depression and Bipolar. Therefore, if you treat the substance abuse and solve that problem, the symptoms can drastically lessen or disappear too. That doesn’t work in my case!

It’s a minefield, both for medical professionals to try to correctly diagnose a patient and for the patient trying to gain a better understanding of their condition(s). My advice: don’t read too much too quickly. Take your time. Read the basics first. These are available on the Mind website, Rethink Depression and many others out there. (mind.org and rethink.org) Just get an idea at first of what you are dealing with, then move on to the more detailed texts that are available. The other biggest piece of advice I can give on this: don’t panic. It is confusing and the chances are you aren’t going to tick all of the boxes for one condition. Don’t think that there is even more wrong with you because you’re not ticking all of the boxes. Just as our symptoms cross over several conditions, so do we. More than that, there’s treatment available for them all. Just be honest with your medical professional about what you are experiencing.

After my BPD diagnosis and when I first started treatment, one of my first questions was “what has caused this”? I have asked it of just about every therapist, psychiatrist and psychologist I have encountered to try to get a full understanding. The general themes that I have gained from their answers is that my neural pathways operate a little differently (nature and to a degree, genetics) along with childhood experiences (nurture). Before they even know anything about me or my childhood, they tell me that my BPD has been partly caused by a lack of love and affection from my parents, frequent arguing and anger within the household, emotional, physical and sexual abuse.

So, I was born with some slightly unusual neural pathways in my brain. Fair enough. Dr Robert Friedel, author of the book “Borederline Personality Disorder Demystified” states that it is “possible that the neural systems associated with the major symptoms of borderline disorder development abnormally in some people with the disorder, either before or shortly after birth”. Not a lot anybody can do about that. Nobody could have seen that coming and my parents certainly couldn’t have known what was going on inside my brain either just before or just after I was born! Just as a side note, I can seriously recommend this book for those who suffer with BPD and for their loved ones. It’s a good read and very much tries to dispel some myths and make sense of the condition.

There is now evidence that you can have a genetic predisposition to BPD, i.e. you’ve inherited it from someone. It doesn’t necessarily have to be BPD that your parent/grandparent may have had. It can be something that shows similar symptoms to BPD so it could be something like affective disorder or PTSD. This is because they can have similar neural pathway issues. It is the neural pathways that control regulation of emotion, impulse control and reasoning that are the ones affected. The brain does contain around one hundred billion nerve cells which have to be arranged in a very specific way so it’s no wonder that some of those pathways can end up not being aligned properly or develop the way they should.

I will on the whole fiercely defend my parents. I am very protective of them and will not have them blamed for me developing the condition. Yes, my parents argued (and still do) but I defy you to find parents who haven’t argued over the years, be it about money, the kids, whatever. You can’t blame that. To me, that’s normal life. My parents both have quick tempers but they have a row, let it go and move on. They don’t sulk. They get it out in the open and deal with it. I’d much rather be like that than not say anything and sulk and let things fester out of control. They’ve been married nearly 50 years so something must be working! My Grandma will tell you that as young children, we would phone Grandma and Granddad and tell them that “World War Three has broken out again”. We weren’t on the phone to our Grandparents in tears or asking them to come and get us to remove us from the situation. It was just what Mum and Dad did. Even at a young age, I preferred that they had a row, got it over with and moved on. There was no emotional or physical abuse.

My parents are from the very stoic, stiff upper lip generation so I will admit that maybe they weren’t emotionally available to us as children and I have stated that to Mum. She has agreed. However, if you want to start looking at how Mum and Dad were towards us as children, then surely you’ve got to go back to what their childhoods were like? My Mum came from a dysfunctional marriage and moved schools numerous times. She did, for a while, live with her Aunt and Uncle. Her Mum (Granny) was not emotionally available to her in any way, shape or form. Granny was not a particularly nice person. She once told Mum that she was a “mistake”. My Mum and Dad have NEVER said that to us. She has always told us that we were planned and wanted. To be told that you were a mistake would definitely be something you’d remember and have a detrimental effect. When my Mum met my Dad, Granny tried to take Grandma (Dad’s Mum) to Court for “stealing her daughter’s affections”. Granny was not a very good Mum.

There was physical abuse when Mum was a child. My Dad has smacked me once and, quite frankly, I deserved it….and more. I was about 4 years old. I was told not to go into the cupboard underneath the china cabinet that contained all of Mum’s collection of Royal Albert china. That was a big thing in the 1970’s. Well, I went into the cupboard and pulled the whole cabinet over and smashed all of Mum’s china. So, yes, I definitely deserved that one. I certainly learned from that day not to disobey Dad!

So, in my mind, compared to what my Mum had to deal with as a child, we had an absolutely amazing childhood and I will not have a word said against my Mum and Dad about how they have raised us. Don’t get me wrong, I am not detracting or minimising in any way anybody who has had to suffer physical, emotional and sexual abuse at the hands of their parents or other people within the family circle. It just didn’t happen to us. There was some inappropriate behaviour I shall say when I was younger but I’m not prepared to expand on that any further. We know the difference between right or wrong. We have never been in prison, we are not addicted to drugs or alcohol and we are a continual work in progress trying to carve out good lives for ourselves and we love our parents. To me, that’s some seriously successful parenting.

Every decision my parents made when we were children was with our best interests at the core, be it which school we went to, where we moved to, holidays, allowing us to have hobbies, learn to play musical instruments, all of it. Hindsight is a powerful tool but it can also be quite destructive. I know that in my conversations with Mum post-breakdown, she feels at times that she has failed us a Mother and I will not and do not accept that at all. As I say, compared to what she had to deal with, she is an absolute angel of a Mother. Every parent makes mistakes. Every parent can look back and think they should have handled a particular situation differently. However, that doesn’t achieve anything except feelings of failure and guilt which aren’t productive.

So, I’m a mix of nature and nurture. There’s nothing anybody can do about that now. All I can do now is be more honest about how I’m feeling, have more open and honest conversations with my family and close friends and not let Mum and Dad feel responsible in any way for this. It just happened. I have an illness and it’s not their fault. It does help having a better understanding of how it happened but I won’t blame anyone for it. It is what it is. Management and hopefully recovery one day is far more important to me than apportioning blame.

Aside from the shame and guilt I have felt regarding having mental health issues, one of the reasons why I didn’t want to admit that I was suffering was because of how I felt people would judge me. I have been just as guilty of assuming some of the myths regarding mental health issues and I felt that if I believed those myths, others would too and judge me accordingly, thus increasing the feelings of shame and guilt. A vicious circle indeed. Today, I am going to admit to some of those assumptions that I had made regarding mental health issues and, quite frankly, tell them to “do one”!

1. Sadness = Depression

For me, there is a slightly fine line on this one. We all go through times in our lives when we are very sad. This can be as a result of a bereavement or traumatic event in our lives, e.g. divorce. I call these times “Reactive Depression”. It is immense sadness with an incredibly low mood following such an event. The period of Reactive Depression can last from a few days or weeks to many months. This was reinforced to me in the immediate aftermath of my separation and subsequent divorce from Dave. My GP had told me everything I was feeling was “a normal reaction” and even the psychiatrist I saw said that I wouldn’t get back into treatment because the divorce was a “surface issue” and not an “underlying issue”. I am not for one moment detracting from how anybody feels and the total heartbreak you can feel after a traumatic event in your life. I have been through a few. The Reactive Depression does eventually pass. It’s that old cliché of “time is a great healer” and in the case of Reactive Depression, I genuinely believe it is. I’m no longer sad about the separation or divorce. I have moments where I wonder what might have been but I no longer cry about it and it is no longer a trigger for more dangerous reactions for me. I’ve suffered close bereavements during my life and, again, they are no longer a trigger for me and the people who I’ve lost, I miss dreadfully but I have happy memories of them and I focus on those memories now. Reactive Depression is just something that you have to go through. Chronic Depression is a whole different ballgame. The Depression part of being Bipolar normally starts to develop before the age of 20 and rarely develops after the age of 40 (source: http://www.rethink.org). The low mood of Chronic Depression massively impacts your day to day life and relationships. It is the long-term inability to achieve tasks; the long-term feelings of a lack of self-worth; talking very quickly jumping from one idea to another; using drugs or alcohol; and making risky decision amongst others. Again, on the http://www.rethink.org website, there is a fantastic fact sheet that describes the main symptoms of depression within Bipolar.

2. People who have mental health issues are just weak minded

This again fuelled the feelings of failure, shame and guilt that I felt knowing that I had some sort of mental health illness prior to diagnosis. I would regularly think that I wasn’t strong enough to just “get my sh#t together” and I just had to “pull myself together”. The classic I was told was actually by an Occupational Health doctor who had written books regarding mental health in the workplace and she genuinely sent me an email telling me to “think happy thoughts”. Bugger off. I now know that it’s not that simple. If it was, none of the 1 in 4 people in this country who suffer would have any form of mental health illness and there wouldn’t be a need for the medications and treatments. We’d all just give ourselves a metaphorical slap round the face and tell ourselves to “man up” and get on with it.

3. Excusing just being lazy

When you are going through a period of chronic depression, there are days when you just don’t want to get out of bed. You just cannot face anything. Yes, we all have days when we are just exhausted and really want a “duvet day” but this is more extreme. I get extremely frustrated with myself when I am going through a period of extended depression because I want to be “normal”. I know that there’s housework to do, that ironing mountain has piled up again. When the sun is shining, I want to get outside for some fresh air and go for a walk but I am just unable to do so. All I want to do is hide and sleep until it passes. You can’t really do that for 6-12 months at a time! Having a mental illness is not a choice. I just didn’t decide at whatever age my symptoms started showing to be a lazy, depressed nutter. I still got up, went to school, went to Uni, went to work, ran a household and developed relationships. Post-breakdown and post-diagnosis, I have obviously become more aware of my symptoms and triggers and I am a work in progress. I still find it hard not to become frustrated with myself when I have the periods of time when I cannot function but I’m getting better at not being so hard on myself about it. I don’t use the illness as an excuse not to do things but I am also self-aware enough to realise when there is a difference between trying to push through an episode of depression and doing too much, too soon.

These are the main myths that I was guilty of assuming were correct prior to the breakdown and diagnosis. There are so many other myths out there including that only adults suffer (I clearly had symptoms as a youngster), OCD is all about cleanliness (it can include things like hoarding and thoughts which can have such a detrimental effect on the day to day lives of sufferers).

There are many articles on the internet which outline various different myths regarding mental health issues. If it is your loved one who suffers, please take the time to read some of the plethora of materials available regarding their condition. As mentioned above, http://www.rethink.org has made some great factsheets on a whole host of mental health issues which are clear and concise and lay out the conditions very well in my view. If you are reading this and you are the patient, don’t buy into the myths and don’t let the myths that are out there grind you down even further. When I was younger and into my early 20s, we didn’t have the internet to help. You don’t have to talk either on the phone or face to face with anybody if you don’t want to. You can reach out to various groups including Rethinking Mental Illness and Mind via social media. You can reach out to me via social media. Twitter (@nutterhigh) and Facebook (Living The BPD Life). Let’s get you into recovery and get you a support network if your loved ones aren’t open to it. You are not and never will be alone.

Anybody living in the UK knows that our National Health Service is absolutely at breaking point. In this time of austerity, public service funding is the first to get cut and our NHS has not escaped a battering. We already know that nurses aren’t paid enough and if you can get an appointment with your GP inside of a fortnight, it’s a miracle.

Mental health services have taken a hit too. In the eight years that I have been within my local borough’s system on and off, I have seen it restructured on more than one occasion in an attempt to streamline the service and save money. This has had the knock-on effect of it becoming increasingly difficult to access care and resources when you really need them. I can’t afford to pay privately for the treatment that I need so I have to rely on our prized NHS. This also makes it incredibly frustrating when you know that you are suffering and, even worse, when you know that you are in a “crisis” and the earliest you can get seen is weeks away.

This has been brought home to me more so than ever in the past two and a half years. When Dave and I first separated I contacted the Emergency Assistance Team who told me I had to be referred by my GP so that’s what I did. I went to see my GP. My GP told me that the reaction I was having to recent events was “normal” and didn’t feel the need to onwardly refer me into the “system”. Fair enough I thought at the time. However, when my mental health deteriorated further after another few weeks, I knew that I had to do something. I circumnavigated the system to a certain degree in that I contacted my local Time to Talk branch via the Mind website. I submitted an online self-referral form and a few days later I was contacted by telephone for an initial assessment. Due to the deterioration in my mental health, the Time to Talk Supervisor decided that it was best for me to be onwardly referred back into the system. There was then two weeks of faffing around between my GP confirming the referral and the referral actually being received by the system. It then took another week for me to get a phone call to actually go and meet with the Emergency Assistance Team. I had to actually walk back into Nutlins to meet with Fiona. Thankfully, when you go to meet with the Emergency Assistance Team or the Home Treatment Team, you meet them on the ground floor whereas the closed wards are on the first floor.

Just walking back into Nutlins brought back memories. The smell, the layout of the waiting room, the fact that most of the staff are still the same and their posters are up on the walls. They are some vivid memories that I really didn’t want to revisit. Nothing much had changed in there in five years.

Fiona had met with me before, the first time I was admitted into Nutlins. She was working with the Home Treatment Team then and was the person who actually helped admit me into Nutlins. She knows Dave. She had met him so many times. She was genuinely upset when I told her what had happened. The procedure hasn’t changed much either. You tell them what’s been going on. I showed her where I had been cutting. She said that the cuts weren’t dirty but they were ugly. The ones on my back were probably going to scar quite badly but I didn’t care. It came down to the usual question “can you guarantee your safety?” Honestly, I didn’t know at that point but all I knew was that I didn’t want to go back into Nutlins, especially with nobody at home to look after the cat so I said that I could, for now. The Home Treatment Team came to visit me daily and if they couldn’t get to me, they would call me. They had Mum’s and Jill’s phone numbers so that if they couldn’t get hold of me, they had contact details for those who could.

The Home Treatment Team worked with me for around six weeks. This was to get me through the current “crisis” whilst I was being referred for a review by a psychiatrist. Would you believe that didn’t come in until July 2016! I’d started this process in early March. When I met with the psychiatrist it was for an assessment to see what treatment I needed and/or was after. That was basically a door slammed in my face. I was told that I wouldn’t be receiving any long-term treatment because I was currently going through a divorce. The divorce was considered a “surface issue” whereas I was after treatment for my underling BPD and Bipolar issues. I wanted to get to the bottom of what was going on in my head. There was no way I would be receiving treatment whist I was going through the divorce because it would side track everything.

Bizarrely, I totally understood this. I didn’t fight it. It makes absolutely perfect, logical sense. The down side of that is that you are left in limbo, out in the big wide world on your own whilst you’re trying to deal with your mental health issues alongside one of the most stressful things in life you can ever do – get divorced. This is when being good at blocking things out and not thinking about things comes in very handy. All I could do for the next few months was concentrate on the divorce. I couldn’t afford to try to work out my underlying issues and triggers when I was dealing with getting divorced.

The divorce was finalised in August 2017 and in January 2018, I went back to my GP to get referred again into the system. After the divorce had come through, I felt myself deteriorating again for the remainder of 2017 and by January, I felt I wanted to get into the system before I found myself in another “crisis”. The divorce was done. I knew that by the time I got an appointment with a Mental Health Nurse for a formal assessment, it would have been at least six months since the Decree Absolute so I knew that the divorce process could no longer be used as a reason not to treat me. When you think about it, it’s actually quite bad that you have to allow for extensive waiting times in your calculations as to when you need to get into treatment!

Well, I got seen by an assessor fairly quickly who then onwardly refers you to a member of the psychologies assessment team to decide what treatment you should have, if any and to go through your medication. This took a little while longer and I was finally seen in August of this year. Shocking I know but that is the state of the NHS.  Over 6 months between first seeing my GP and finally being assessed for treatment by a Consultant Psychiatrist.

Being self-aware and having done some research, I’m pretty sure that Dialectical Behavioural Therapy is the best way forward for me. In recent years it has become more recognised globally as the way forward in overcoming BPD symptoms. Great. I know what I need. Let’s get to it. Erm, No. The budget in my borough has been decimated so much for services that DBT is now offered where I live because it is so expensive. I can’t afford to pay for it privately. It also turned out that I wasn’t going to have any treatment offered at all. This is because I have been through the rounds of CBT, one-on-one long-term counselling and various other treatments and groups. So, what was the answer? They upped my medication again and sent me on my way.  As I am classified as highly functioning, I’m not eligible for Occupational Therapy groups and I am to investigate courses and groups myself within the Recovery College at Shooters Hill.  They did say thought that if I was to find myself in a crisis situation again, I should contact my GP!  Really?  I can’t get to see my GP in under three weeks.

Oh, just brilliant. So, through a lack of funding I’m left flailing about in the real world trying to get through each day. All I want to do is be a functioning member of society again. I want to get back to work. I want to get back to a version of the person I was before. Obviously, I don’t want to be the same person because that didn’t work either. I just want to be the best version of myself that I can be.

The moral of this story? Don’t ever give up trying to get treatment. Circumnavigate the system where you live if you have to. If you’re in “crisis”, call the Samaritans, go to A&E if you think that you are genuinely a danger to yourself. Call a friend if you don’t want to sit in an A&E department for 4 hours. Yup, I’ve done that too and got forgotten about because they’d forgotten to contact the on-call psychiatrist so I just upped and left. Don’t give up. Contact your local Time to Talk, details of which can be found on the Mind website (www.mind.org.uk). Keep fighting. Make your voice heard and it will be. Send a message to me either via the blog site, my twitter page (@nutterhigh) or on my Facebook page (Living The BPD Life). I will reply. You are not alone.

The moral for me? Well, I have recently invested in a Dialectical Behavioural Therapy Workbook. Now, I don’t normally put much stock in self-help books, certainly the likes that promise to make you rich, thin, famous or will get you to stop smoking! However, this one has recommendations all over the place so I am going to give it a go. I won’t mention it just now. I’m going to try the exercises and I shall report back and then I’ll let you all know what it is. I’m a little cautious about starting it but I’m always nervous and worried before starting any sort of treatment because it normally means thinking about things and processing things that I haven’t thought about for a while because they are bloody painful!

Wish me luck as I go back into treatment (of sorts) and back to studying!

Anybody that has ever been in the situation where they haven’t wanted to be divorced knows that it hurts like an absolute sod! When you get confirmation that the man you loved is with your ex-best friend, it’s a soap opera storyline you just don’t want to be living in. As we know, this is what fell into my lap.

I knew Dave and Alexis were engaged. I had it confirmed by two separate, relatively independent sources in July 2017. Up to that point, there was still some question as to whether they were actually together or not. Although I just “knew”, I didn’t have any physical, material evidence to prove that. Getting this information from the two sources was enough for me. Dave and I were still in the throes of trying to get divorced with no end imminently in sight so he’d got engaged to the (now) Mrs Dave number 3 whilst still legally married to Mrs Dave number 2. Alexis was headed down the aisle for a second time. I had no idea as to when they were getting married until the actual day.

In early September 2018, Dave and Alexis chalked up another wedding day between them when they got married. They got married on a Monday and it was a very lovely day. I had made arrangements to meet a friend for a drink (for my friend) and a coffee for me at 4pm at a venue close to my home called The Tudor Barn. I was feeling pretty good that day about myself and was confident that I would make my “date” with Jackie.

About 15 minutes or so before I was due to leave, I decided to have a quick flick through Facebook just to see what was going on in the world. Well, thank goodness I did. Even though a lot of Dave’s family and friends and Alexis’s family and friends had blocked and deleted me from Facebook, I was still friends (at that point) with a couple of members of Dave’s family. I was just scrolling through Facebook and I came across one of Dave’s family member’s profiles and it was showing pictures of Dave and Alexis’s wedding at The Tudor Barn. My initial reaction was maybe that it had taken place at the weekend and they were catching up with posting their photos. Oh No. It didn’t take me long to work out that the Wedding was taking place that day at The Tudor Barn and I was supposed to be there in about 30 minutes’ time.

What would you have done? Would you have kept your appointment and just so happened to have been there at that time or would have freaked out and made alternative arrangements?

As you can imagine, I chose the latter. I was on the phone to Jackie straight away and told her that we had to meet somewhere else. I told her why. At first, she wanted me to still meet her at The Tudor Barn. I told her I couldn’t and wouldn’t. Dave and Alexis would have assumed that, somehow, I had managed to find out where and when their wedding was. They would have also assumed that I had shown up to make some sort of gesture or impact on the day.

I had no idea that was their wedding day and I was definitely NOT going to just show up, even if it was by accident. If I had, no matter how much I would have protested my innocence at not knowing, I would have been the one made out to be at fault. Ah, the “bitter and twisted witch” comments would have been flying around again that in some way I wanted to disrupt the celebrations. I chose the dignified silence route again.

I cannot and will not deny that Dave and Alexis getting married has hurt. These were the two people closest to me in my life and the two people who I trusted with my life. Jack and Jill had tried to be reassuring, especially since finding out they were engaged, that they probably wouldn’t get married and that the relationship probably wouldn’t last that long. Well, it did and they got to the altar. Why do they get to have their “Happy Ever After” after the trail of destruction they’ve left behind? Why do they get to shit all over me and then get to be happy? Mind you, maybe this was my karma for being the “other woman” to Dave’s first Wife?

However, there is an even bigger part of me that is glad that they got married. I’m glad that they made it. This is not out of any sort of concern for their welfare or desire for them to be happy. Trust me, I couldn’t give less of a rat’s backside about their happiness if I tried. What their wedding actually means is that I now feel vindicated. I wasn’t going mad when I asked if there was something going on between them. I wasn’t heading back to Nutlins when I questioned the pair of them about lying to my about how much time they were spending together. All of those insecurities that I’d had about whether or not Dave and Alexis had done the “dirty” on me were now put to rest. When I started seeing the photos of their wedding on Facebook, I went into “smug mode” more than anything else. I was right and I had been right all along. They were a pair of two-faced, selfish, lying bastards who were only concerned with themselves and now that had been proven.

The funny thing about Facebook and people’s attitudes is that pretty much as soon as the photos started appearing, I was suddenly deleted and blocked by three separate members of Dave’s family who were in attendance at their wedding. It made me laugh that even after all this time, there would still be a concern of me knowing what was going on in their lives and to then be unceremoniously dumped off of Facebook by these people when between the separation and now, there had been no problem. It made me laugh a lot.

However, from a slightly devious perspective, you’ve got to get up a little earlier than that to get the better of me sometimes. I managed to grab some of the photos and sent them to my sister. Just on a note regarding their attire: Dave was wearing the watch that I’d bought him for his 40th Birthday. I’m not sure that if that was me, I’d have been too impressed by that. Anyway, my 12 year old niece managed to take a look at the photos I’d sent to my sister and said (about Dave): “hasn’t he got fat?” and “I thought you were supposed to be happy on your wedding day?”. My niece, the legend. I laughed and laughed. Vindication feels good.

I have never spoken publicly about the fallout from Dave’s request for a divorce. Obviously, I had told my parents aswell as Jack and Jill because they were so closely involved during the separation. However, I never posted anything on Facebook, I never contacted Dave’s children and maintained a dignified silence. I never publicly slagged Dave off either. Even in private, I defended Dave (and Alexis) more than I had moaned.

So why put it all out there now?

Dave and Alexis have married (more about how I was nearly an accidental guest another time); the divorce was finalised over a year ago and I have taken some time to take a hard look at myself to see what I was responsible for. I genuinely believe that part of being compassionate towards yourself is not just giving yourself a break and being kind to yourself. I believe that you also have to take a look at your actions and behaviours; try to learn from experiences and, ultimately, move forward to a healthier, better version of yourself. This never excuses the behaviours of others though! You can’t control what other people say or think; it’s how you react to it and process it.

Once the initial shock had worn off regarding Dave asking for the divorce and I’d started being practical and distracted, Jack gave me more details as to what Dave had said when they met. Dave had some very interesting things to say including some quite left of field accusations.

Apparently, he’d been squirreling money away for ages – for over a year and had been thinking about ending our marriage for around two years. Lovely. That one stung like a son of a b**ch! He’d clearly had one foot out of the door for quite some time and really needed to justify his actions. The accusations that were levelled at me were as follows:

• He said that we didn’t do anything together;
• There is an “inside” me and an “outside” me.
• He alleged that I showed him no affection.
• Apparently, I want the little cottage with a white picket fence and he wants more out of his life. He wants to live his life his own way and he wants more out of life.
• He thought that he was the right person at the right time for me to get married.
• He thought I was gay.
• He wants to do what he wants, when he wants.
• I’m obsessed with Alexis.
• I’m a compulsive liar
• Dave and Alexis didn’t believe that I’d had the number of procedures and operations on my back and foot as I didn’t have enough scars.

Then, I had a conversation with Alexis’s ex-boyfriend and he also told some things which I had never heard of before which Dave had told him that both he and Alexis though the following:

• I’m “bitter and twisted” and a “witch”.
• I stole the money out of his jars in the cupboard.
• I wouldn’t do anything with his friends.
• Alexis hasn’t wanted to be my friend for years – she only tolerated me because she liked Dave.
• Allegedly, I accused Alexis of having an affair with Dave 3 years or so before we split up.
• Apparently, on more than one occasion Alexis had left my house in tears because of something I had said.
• Alexis had said that I didn’t take her illnesses seriously and everything was all about me.

Well, let’s get stuck in, shall we? Let’s start with Dave’s allegations.

“We didn’t do anything together”. I would like to take this opportunity to state for the record that when Dave and I first moved in together, Dave did not have a passport. I bought him a passport as a present for our first Christmas together. We visited 9 countries in 6 years, some of them twice, one of them three times. We went to darts tournaments together. We went to birthday parties and weddings together. I went to the auctions with him and to boot sales. We went out for dinner.

“Inside and Outside Me”. Well, d’uh! Of course I was going to be a different person when we were in public or in company than when we were alone, even around Alexis and her then boyfriend. I genuinely believed he understood that. He had heard me on the phone telling my Mum I was okay when he knew full well that I wasn’t. He knew that I put an act on when I went out because I was ashamed of the mental health problems I was having and I didn’t want people to know and/or worry.

“No affection from me”. As I have noted previously, the amount of Venlafaxine that I have to take does somewhat devastate your libido. However, I would sit with him on the sofa and stroke his arm; I would hug him and kiss him. Let’s also not forget that for a number of years, because of my lack of libido, I had to endure his little digs and comments regarding this including the epic “it will take more than a microwave to thaw my wife out”. When you are being subjected to those sorts of barbed comments daily, it erodes your self-confidence and does not make you overly inclined to want to jump the bones of the person who is making said comments. He made me feel as sexy as a damp dish cloth.

“The cottage with the white picket fence”: This one really confused the daylights out of me. When I told my parents and Jack and Jill about this, all of them had the same reaction of “he doesn’t really know you does he?” Since the separation and the divorce, I have tried to fathom what he may have meant by this. The only thing that I can come up with is that if the idea of the cottage with the white picket fence is that I want to be healthy (physically and mentally) and live happily ever after, then Yes, that is what I want. However, I would prefer the Georgian double fronted 5 bedroom detached house with a load of grounds for horses and a swimming pool in the back garden! He said as part of that the he wanted more out of life. He had a wife who loved him, supported him but just wasn’t sleeping with him. If that is what it came down, then how shallow and a total lack of understanding and communication as far as the effects of the medication were concerned. There was a lack of communication on my part aswell therefore about the effects of the medication but I do recall a couple of sessions with my psychiatrist where Dave was present and I did explain about the side effects of the medication and the psychiatrist confirmed that what I was saying was true.

“The right person for me to get married”. Erm, I’d have said that was pretty obvious. Am I being naïve on this one? I was in love with him. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. I didn’t have a gun to his head to get married. Indeed, it was he who asked me. He was still married to his first Wife when he asked me to get married and I refused to get engaged to a man who was still legally married. It was only when that we knew that his Decree Absolute from his first Wife was imminent that we got engaged.

“He thought I was gay”. This was purely because I wasn’t sleeping with him. He actually asked a member of his family who is gay if she thought that I was gay. Both she and her girlfriend said No. I actually thought that one was quite funny. He would assume I was gay because he couldn’t accept and/or understand that the medication was taking its toll and that his comments were incredibly hurtful and didn’t exactly make me feel particularly fruity shall we say!

“He wants to do what he wants, when he wants”. Not entirely sure when this one was any different to our day to day life! Dave liked to play poker with his friends on a Friday night. I never stopped him. In fact, I actively encouraged it that he spend time with his friends and that we have separate interests and joint interests. I would occasionally have lunch with Jill or go out with Alexis and he would have a few beers with his mates. There was, however, one occasion that I asked him not to go out. It was the night before the big celebration for my 40th Birthday which was to be a lunch. He said that he wanted to play poker on the Friday night and I asked him if he wouldn’t that night because it was going to be a big, long day for me on the Saturday. I wanted his help in decorating the venue on the Saturday morning before everyone arrived for lunch. He hadn’t done anything towards arranging this lunch. I had secured the venue, sent out the invitations, sorted out the menus, was paying for it all, got all the table decorations ready and all I needed was his help on Saturday morning. I didn’t need him with a hangover, not wanting to get out of bed until lunchtime. That was the only time I asked him not to go out. To be fair, he didn’t. Can I just note at this point I do not want it to seem in any way that Dave did nothing for my 40th Birthday. He did. He took me away on a really lovely holiday that I had to do no preparation for at all and it really was a lovely week away. The Birthday lunch was what I wanted to share with friends and family so I did all the arrangements.

“Obsessed with Alexis”. I know exactly where this has come from. After Dave and I separated and I found out that they had been spending more time together and had lied to me about it, I pulled them both about it. I was angry. Not only about the fact that they had lied to me about it but was angry in general about the separation so I didn’t know what to think. I was questioning them about it now because they had lied and had basically been busted. I wanted answers and I wanted all the information I could get.

“Compulsive liar and the operations”. Apparently, Dave and Alexis didn’t believe about the surgeries I’ve had because I don’t have enough scars. Wow. That was quite impressive. I questioned Dave about this when he came to collect his belongings. I left it until that point because Mum was present. Mum has been by my side through pretty much all of my operations and procedures. As I’ve said before, I’ve been single most of my adult life so it’s always been good old Mum who has come to hold my hand and take me home after having an anaesthetic. I didn’t prepare Mum for that one and just questioned Dave in front of her. Mum was absolutely mortified that Dave would think such a thing. I explained to Dave that Mum had been with me at enough hospitals to know that she preferred the food at London Bridge to Blackheath and that she had been sat outside the x-ray department listening to me scream and shout at my podiatrist when I was having 21 needles put into my foot to try to disperse a lump.

I know how the liar part came about. After Dave and I separated and I had got myself back into my Local Authority’s Mental Health system, I had a couple of text messages from Alexis’s ex-boyfriend. He was asking how I was. I told him that I was back “under” the system. That got translated into back “into” the system in that Dave and Alexis assumed that I had been admitted back into Nutlins. At no point did I ever say that I had been admitted. I said I was back “under” the system meaning that the Home Treatment Team were visiting me and I was actually doing everything within my power NOT to be re-admitted into Nutlins.

I have felt the need to defend myself on these accusations now because I have heard them from more than one source. As I said earlier, I kept a dignified silence when this was all first happening but enough time has passed now that I feel I can have my say. I can put my side across and what it was like to live with Dave and have Alexis in my life.  They clearly didn’t give a rat’s backside about me when they decided to get together so why should I worry now about hurting their feelings?  I’m not.

Let us now turn to the accusations levelled at me by Alexis and Dave together. These were extremely hurtful. I had known Alexis since she was 14 years old. I had been there for her when her ex-boyfriend turned nasty. He would get drunk and be vicious towards her. I have stayed overnight at her flat when he was being particularly evil. We had to call the Police at 2am. Dave and I had been there when he kicked the door in. I have comforted her. I have counselled her. I have never lied to her. I told her that I didn’t like her ex-boyfriend and that she would be better off single than with someone like that. I have been sat in the waiting room with in the Accident & Emergency Department of our local hospital when she was having a panic attack because of her ex-boyfriend. I’ve been to the hospital with her when she’s had to have dental work and I’ve brought her home. When she was first diagnosed with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, I took to the internet to research it so that I could understand it better. I’d never heard of it before. I helped her fill out her Disability Living Allowance Application Form on more than one occasion.

Dave said I was a bitter and twisted witch. Oh, he was pissed at me that I cancelled the van insurance so soon after he called time on our marriage and even more pissed that I stole the money out of his jars. Granted, I was angry. However, I genuinely believe I was totally justified on both accounts, sort of! When Dave and I separated, he just took the van. He didn’t actually confirm with me that it was okay to take the van. We had bought the van together although all of the paperwork was in my name. I hadn’t had use of the van for the eight weeks during our separation and when we met outside Jill’s house and he said he wasn’t coming back, he wanted the van. Have the van. Just don’t expect me to pay for it! When I contacted the insurance company, I kept the insurance up until the day that he was coming to collect his belongings. I think it was quite fair to say that on that day when he had removed all of his belongings he was removing himself officially from my home and my life. So why should I pay for the van insurance after that point? Also, after seeking legal advice, technically I could have had Dave charged with taking the van without consent. I know – how mad is that? It was in my name and he hadn’t asked about the van when we separated, he just assumed that he could take it as he drove it more than I did.

I’ll maybe give him some latitude about the money in the jars. That was a little cheeky of me. However, he had left me high and dry during our separation and upon consultation with a divorce lawyer, legally it is in the matrimonial home and therefore classified as “married money” so I had it! I still feel a smidge of guilt to this day about taking that money so maybe it comes under the category of not illegal but maybe not the most moral thing to do! It was a little devious but, quite frankly, compared to the actions of Dave and Alexis, pretty insignificant.

Allegedly around 3 years before Dave and I separated, I openly accused Alexis of having an affair with him. This apparently happened at a mutual friend’s house. It was this incident that caused the wedge in the friendship between myself and Alexis, according to Alexis. Firstly, I have absolutely no recollection of this having taken place. Secondly, if I thought my Husband was having an affair, I would have asked my Husband first. Dave had no recollection of me ever having brought this up as an issue when I talked to him about it. Thirdly, even if I wanted to supposedly confront Alexis about this, I sure as hell wouldn’t have done it in somebody else’s house. I would have spoken to Alexis separately, in private when no one else was around. Finally, if Alexis as genuinely upset but this apparent accusation, why did she hang on to it for so long? Why didn’t she talk to me about it sooner? If I had ever said anything to her to upset her, why didn’t she talk to me about it? Why store it up? Why not address the situation or remove herself from our friendship at that point? Unfortunately, I will probably never get the answers to those questions.

I was absolutely devastated that Alexis would think that I didn’t believe her about her illnesses; that I didn’t take them seriously; and that everything was all about me. Total bullshit. I have never said anything behind Alexis’s back that I wouldn’t say to her face. I agreed with Alexis when she said that she was a Princess and could wrap her parents around her little finger and pretty much always got what she wanted. I did admit to her that I was quite envious she could do that as I just wouldn’t have the balls to try that with my parents!! It was said jokingly but maybe it was taken incredibly seriously.

I researched Alexis’s illnesses. I sat with her and listened to her explain them, both in person and on the phone. I asked questions. When I knew she had appointments coming up, I would ask about them. I would ask how she got on afterwards. It was not all about me. Also, to think that I was jealous of her life and her boyfriends was just totally ridiculous. Her first Husband was a drug taker. Her ex-boyfriend was a violent alcoholic. Why would I want anything like that in my life? I always encouraged her to spend time being single because that had to better than being in those types of relationships. Besides, I was in love with what I thought was a good man. He wasn’t violent and he didn’t take drugs so why would I be jealous of someone’s relationship with a partner who I openly admitted I didn’t like and thought she would have been better off without.

There were obviously more accusations and comments that were made but I have chalked them up to being pathetic and trivial. The main accusations and comments are those which I have outlined above and subsequently attempted to give my perception of the events. During the last 2.5 years since Dave and I separated, I have tried to see these events from Dave’s perspective and subsequently Alexis’s perspective to try to understand what they could think I had done wrong.

Obviously to me now, the big thing that I did wrong was that I wasn’t sleeping with my Husband prior to our separation and I didn’t communicate with him as well as I should have done. I failed my Husband as a Wife, in my wifely duties. I just couldn’t do the “lie back and think of England”. I just couldn’t. I am sorry to Dave for that. However, he didn’t help the situation with his comments. It wasn’t helped by the fact that when we did get intimate, he would go “soft” when he went near me which also negatively affected my self-confidence and self-esteem. I’m sure that it negatively impacted his self-esteem too. Then it got worse by not telling Dave regularly that his comments were hurtful and were not conducive to me regaining our intimacy. I am also sorry to Alexis that if I ever said anything to her that hurt her feelings or made her angry but I just didn’t know that I had offended her.

Into the next chapter of my life, I take that I have to communicate in a better way. Not just with any potential new partner, but in general. With my immediate circle of family and friends, I no longer keep secrets about my mental health. I’ve started this blog to be open and honest. I am getting better at explaining when my feelings have been hurt by someone. I am a work in progress towards a healthier, happier life.

On the day that Dave said he wanted a divorce, I was actually quite constructive with it when I got home. I called the car insurance company and cancelled his name off my policy. We co-owned a van but all of the details were in my name so I started making arrangements to cancel that policy too.   Anything to not feel so sad.  I started keeping notes of how much everything was costing me because he was going to pay for it.

I had told Dave that I would be in touch about when to come and collect his belongings. I ordered some boxes to pack them all up. I wasn’t going to be overly nice about it but at the same time, I was not going to give him any cause to have a go at me about his belongings.

There was no way he was leaving my house with anything but his personal belongings. All of the furniture in that house, I had paid for. When he moved in with me, he literally had a couple of black bin bags of clothes and his tools for work. Leaving the property was going to be much more time-consuming in packing his belongings but I’d be damned if he was going to cherry pick what he took and leave me to clear up his rubbish. He was having everything. What he did with it after that was not my concern.

Mum had already been coming down to stay overnight quite a few times during our separation but when Dave called to say about coming around to collect his belongings, Mum was adamant she would be there. I also had Jill on standby just in case Mum couldn’t make it for whatever reason. I had been very constructive once the packing boxes had arrived. Basically, I went through the spare room like a tornado. I boxed up all of Dave’s belongings. I was probably far more fair than I should have been because after each box was packed, I labelled it so that he would know quickly what was in it.

When Mum arrived, I showed her the progress that I’d made with the spare room and she said she was really proud of me and that I’d done a great job. To be honest, it was a massive distraction and had really kept me occupied. I’d really worked up a sweat packing up his belongings. It had really focused my attention and had helped me stop feeling so sad. This was being constructive and I was on a mission to not feel sad.

Another reason for me being so focused on packing his belongings was to stop him cherry picking his favourite items and basically leaving all his crap behind for me to deal with. Whilst we were married, Dave wanted to experiment with going to auctions and seeing if he could grab some bargains and then flip them for a profit either on eBay or at boot sales or on some other selling platform. Basically, he had watched TV shows such as “Baggage Battles” and “Storage Wars” and thought that he could, and would do the same. I did try to tell him that the auctions wouldn’t be like that and even though the TV shows were supposed to be reality, it was what I call “staged” reality. There was no way he would buy a lost luggage suitcase at an auction and magically find a Rolex watch in it!! It just didn’t happen like that!

Well he thought he knew better. I supported him and went with him to the auctions. Unfortunately, most of what Dave bought was utter crap. There was absolutely no way I was going to be left with dealing with his mess. I packed it all up in boxes. Again, I was more than kind in that the breakable stuff I wrapped in bubble wrap and very carefully named the boxes. When he did come to collect his belongings, he did try to palm some of it off on me by asking me if I wanted any of it to try and sell myself! Inside I was absolutely raging and telling him to “fuck himself”. First thing I thought, not the first thing I said. All that actually came out of my mouth was “no thank you”.

The funniest thing was when Mum and I were in my bedroom. Mum was sitting on my bed. I had a roll of black bin bags and I was just putting all of his clothes into the bin bags. I did give him one suitcase that he had bought when we were looking for lightweight cases for our trip to the US but all the other suitcases in the house were mine. I had bought them over the years so there was no way he was getting one of those. As, by this point, I had also run out of boxes, the only option was to pack his clothes into black bin bags. I didn’t see anything wrong with that. I just piled them all in. I didn’t even bother trying to fold them or reduce the risk of creasing.

Anyway, at some point during this process Mum said to me “there’s a pair of scissors on the side there, are you sure you don’t want to have a go at a few bits? I would”.  She was nodding towards the scissors and then towards the pile of Dave’s clothes that I was, at that point, piling into the black bin bags. Bless my Mum. She really did make me laugh. I would somehow, one day feel vindicated and/or get some sort of revenge but for now, I had to stay squeaky clean. I didn’t want him to have any cause to go after me for anything during the divorce process. Mum was very proud of me for this approach but still asked again if I was sure I didn’t want the scissors!  Trust me though, 99.9% of me really wanted to take those scissors and go to town on his clothes.

Everything was returned to Dave in tact. You see it in the films and on the TV where the scorned wife has gone ballistic but I hadn’t smashed up his belongings, burned his photographs or cut up his clothes. I was hanging onto my dignity by a thread and I intended to continue to do so, certainly in front of him. If I subsequently fell apart in front of Mum and Dad or Jack and Jill, then so be it, as long as I maintained my composure in front of him. I did however take the opportunity to remind him that he was very lucky that his belongings weren’t neatly laid out in the middle of the nearest motorway and that I’d been more than fair with the packing.

The only slightly cheeky thing that I had done was that I’d raided Dave’s coin jars. He kept £2 coins in a jar in the cupboard in the kitchen and seeing as he’d cleared off for 8 weeks without any word or financial input towards the house, it was “married” money so I had it and put it into my bank account before I filed for divorce. That was the only slightly devious thing that I did in the whole process. I must say that I am a little ashamed of it because it was his money but, quite frankly, I was pissed off and it was a legal, lawful way I could have a little stab at him, through his back pocket.

Between Dave asking for a divorce and him finally coming to collect all of his belongings, I sought legal advice and instructed a solicitor to start the divorce process. Unfortunately, it was at this point that things started to turn nasty and the fallout really started. I thought that packing his belongings up was tough and watching his life literally leave my life was rough going. Oh, No. I was in for another big shock of my life when I started to find out what Dave had been saying.