Penny for your thoughts.

After a while of being in therapy you get used to people sharing their emotions. At first it was hard, you resist it. I did, for months but after a while It becomes easier to acknowledge your feelings and easier to recognise the way I feel whether it be a good feeling or a bad. We learn to have a new experience.

When someone shares there pain and you can relate, you feel with them. An empathy that only can be understood by the reason you’re there in there in the first place.

Group therapy; Surrounded by unfamiliar people yet they are authentic with empathy to the painful feelings we all hold inside. Bonded by childhood trauma.

When a human grieves over something they never had, when they are split and led from the inner child within we may have behaviours that are hard to control, impulses and a deep painful feeling of loss and abandonment that reoccurs. Leading life this way without allowing the adult within to surface keeps us in that pattern of destructive & damaging behaviours that ultimately we want and need to change.

It’s hard to be present and in the moment when we are triggered into that state of vulnerability, fight or flight, freeze or overwhelms us and were back into that place suffering panic, fear and anxiety. Reacting to a situation that isn’t actually a life threatening situation but still the fear is real.

Only sitting in this place, silently and strong when it happens is the only way to convince your body that you don’t need to be this vigilant anymore.

I’ve been in therapy for year now, and before that a 3 month group therapy and before that 12 weeks with a psychologist. I’ve got 8 months to go and although I have truly made strides towards being well and understanding what illness I suffer with it is still a struggle every single day.

Today is a good day. I’m rising from a mood swing and it always feels so amazing when I first emerge. Like the air is fantastic. I feel the same as signs of spring are popping up everywhere.

I long for the sunlight and warm sun. ☀

Penny for my thoughts.



Love Day

As my brain becomes more well the fragmented parts of ‘lost me’ are returning and with it, a reminder of the painful circumstances of why each left. All the memories flood me, like flashbacks of everything I’ve suppressed.

I have discovered recently that my inner child is a reflection of before, when the problems happened in my life, Before I lost my innocence. Before everything changed.

I lost my father when I was a child. At least the version of him I had in my mind. The dad that taught me to swim, the fun memories, the man I trusted… before he showed his true colours, or I became old enough to understand.

I’m an empath. I feel things. I feel emotions, exchanges between folks that are so slight. I see them. I see them every time. When I am ill, it flips to paranoia and I make guesses that are more to do with how I’m feeling inside that match to my fears or insecurities but most of the time my gut is nearly always right.

Today is Valentines day and it’s a two sided coin. Parts of me celebrate, parts of me enjoy the fact I have someone to share my life with when so many others do not. Other parts hurt.

I can list so many women that I have loved. A black book of lovers that I’ve cared for, shared my heart with and the heartache that comes with the loss of each.

This is my pattern.

Repeating loss & the past over and over. Trying to save an unhappy woman and failing at the end of it because it was the end of the cycle. Deep down I wanted them to be happy because then the pain in my chest would lessen and only when this eased would I be able to carry on thinking about myself.

My mother was hurting. The conflict and fighting that never eased, she didn’t seek resolve and neither did he but being the sensitive child I was I soaked up all her pain. More so because she felt she was hiding it. She wasn’t though, it was there for me to see, filling me up with her pain and confusing my growth, stunting my normality.

Seeping into every area of my life. At school I was sat with a therapist every week. Depression and grief at 14. Heartache and problems whirring around me. Loss, anger and sadness.

I left at 15, packed my items into black bags took a black taxi and got dropped off at a hostel, alone. I tried to do my A levels, 6th form but I was loosing grip on reality.

And so began my decade of submission.

They say when you are ready, you will see. Recently I have felt myself get better, evolving a bit more and I am finding the flashbacks and memories that are returning are in time with this.

I don’t feel ready for this, but it seems that it’s beginning to unravel. Maybe one day I’ll remember everything and process it all as an adult.

Today although precious has also been incredibly painful.


Let’s see how this rolls out.


Over the last couple of months, I’ve been riding the waves of my depression and fighting off an episode. Luckily I think I’m through the worst of it and feeling more able to look outward and not be so self-focused. It is so unbelievably tiring to fight this mental anguish that I can’t seem to get away from. Like I’m trapped in this world and don’t have a clue how to handle myself in it. I’m frozen, its hard to move, hard to believe, in anything especially myself. 

When your core feelings are that you are nothing how do you change this? All the memes in the world and all the love still doesn’t cover this feeling. This sensation of feeling lost, tired and heavy. No desire to do anything, to change, no desire to be alive.

After weeks of thoughts of suicide being prevalent, it feels like rising from death and trying to force myself to feel alive. Why doesn’t anything make me feel alive anymore? Why is it that I can’t find the same excitement about MY life, about being a better individual. To grow, change, move, evolve…  Why do I feel like I’m incapable of becoming anything? Why do I just give up and allow defeat? 

I’ve stopped trying. Life is very different for me now. Its empty, void of passion and flames. Over the last decade I have been intensely obsessed with being a submissive and having a Dominant. Nothing else mattered but this in my heart. I found myself immersed and lost to the cruel highs and lows that having an intense relationship like this provides. Jumping from one to the next I have been through the mill over the years and I think its catching up with me. Everything that I had been avoiding; my own thoughts, my own feelings. The reasons I gave my submission away in the first place. To feel safe.

Now I know that I feel unsafe in the world without feeling like there is a more adulter adult around me. I struggle to stand in my shoes and just be myself. I have always felt an anxiety within me which I now recognize as being fear of the unknown. It is intense though, I really am scared inside.

I am full of hate. So much energy goes into hating myself. How do I turn this into love?

When the chaos simmers and all goes quiet, the meds are working and you are left with this void inside. This empty, full of hatred and angry hole. I fill it with spending, smoking pot, hating, binge watching tv, anything that avoids the painful sensations and feelings that come with facing it. Facing the confused and broken child within me and the complex mental health issues I have.

I’m starting to see that it is only myself that can change anything. Facing my feelings and trying. That’s the main important step to this process of recovery I’m getting ready to embark upon. Recognising when the blame shifts from my myself to the illness. When I give away power every time I let it take over and just give up. Every time I believe that I’m not good enough, every time I think that I’m nothing.

Its time to work on me and to try and love myself before not loving myself ruins it all.



Antipsychotic Madness

I waited for months. 

I had become bored and lazy, useless with an ability to achieve nothing. I was beginning to hate myself for the lack of anything I get done. My memory was dire, I often forgot my sentence half way through it and felt embarrassed everytime I asked a friend to remind me of what it is we were talking about. I’m huge, I gained 6 stone in my journey with Quetiapine and it’s impossible to shift. The hunger is irrisistable and strong. 

I felt like nothing really bothered me either, I had a handle on my relationships, my inner sense of calm was growing although still I was confined to spaces I know or at home hibernating but I’ve been balanced and after enduring a lifetime of unrest it’s been a welcome break to feel like a ‘normal’ human. Still, I knew I have yet to engage with the outside world. 

So I waited, talking about it with friends and family. Before Christmas I had the appointment. It’s a testament to my balance at how long I patiently waited to visit my physch, to discuss the potential of me reducing meds, aching for more passion and fire which I didn’t feel whilst under the Quetiapine haze.  She agreed, and explained that I may not feel a 50mg drop and so I took the prescription and happily exchanged it for my new lower dose.

I was excited. I really wanted to come down from this potent drug. I felt strong enough to face it, even through Christmas. However this is not what transpired. 

From day one I felt anxiety. In my chest, shaking in my fingers, butterflies in my stomach causing a nauseous sensation in my throat. I pushed through as it felt like I had stepped out of the fog and into a more present version of myself. It felt like I could feel again. 

Then the arguments came, being on edge all the time with a constant flow of anxiety contributed to my behaviour. I felt jealousy, I lashed out. I argued and got highly emotional creating huge messes in my interpersonal relationships. I felt unsafe from day one. A sense that something is going to go wrong, something bad is going to happen and I won’t be able to cope with it. Panic jumping into my chest and flapping, my breathe short and fast, I think I’m going to black out, my eyes blur and I feel dizzy. It’s just anxiety, I tried to ride it out. 

More fights, busy Christmas, struggling to be alone, struggling not to be alone struggling with dark thoughts as they start to penetrate my consciousness. Drama in the new year only pushing me further to fall even though I’m so close regardless. I can’t hold on and I’m really far away from feeling balanced. 

I begin to ache, wasps in my brain. A longing inside me, an unjust crime. I’m hurt, grief striken and I just want to die. I’m aching for something to take me away, angry with the potential of having to live another 50 years in this world, in this head. 

I can’t tolerate anything. I have nothing to give as my ability to take input overloads and I’m unable to function. I can’t shower.. 6.. 7 days. I’m sore because I’m unclean. I’m crying and I’m craving to sit in a bath so I can cry in peace. I can’t eat, food disgusts me, the anxiety takes that from me. 

I break, I’m a mess. I haven’t posted my forms or been to the pharmacy or achieved anything except to cradle my brain in attempt to cool its cruel attacks on me. 

I gave in, I made the decision to up again. Taking some immediate release in the day and my extended release on the evening I instantly felt my body relax from the anxiety. I slept, for hours and hours, exhausted from weeks of being on the edge, lost in fight or flight. 

It’s been a few days now and I am beginning to feel like myself again and the familiar feeling of safety has returned and I feel a little traumared from the whole experience. I had read a lot, so many people advised that it’s a nightmare to get off and I think I might have to agree. 

My next appointment is in April, so I figure that I will try again then with a bit more preparation and a bit more practised  resilience. 

I’m definitely not ready to go back to work yet. I feel very much still in recovery and now recovering from that experience! 

If you are reducing any medication, get a Dr’s support and at any time have the dose you was at ready to take if you need it. 

It’s not a failure if you try, try again. 

#squishysays #keeptalkingMH #sharemystory

Finding Myself

I’m hidden somewhere inside. There is a version of me I never became, a version that never had the chance to develop and grow and is essentially stunted.  A version of me that struggles to surface and when it does it becomes overwhelmed and frightened.

I’ve always felt a significant split within me. The fight between keeping control of life at a normal pace or finding myself in the throes of anxiety, depression and grief unable to take the reins. This has always been my biggest problem. I have fought for years to understand why this happens to me, feeling like it is something I can’t control or change and is out of my hands.

I have always thought the part of me which tried to always carry on was the well part of me and every time I broke down or couldn’t cope I’d believe I was poorly. However, I think I’ve been looking at it from the wrong angle.

I am most connected to my feelings when I am ‘poorly’ but I associate it with negativity because I become overwhelmed and super sensitive. Denying this part of me for so many years I have unknowingly created a version of me that was able to put on the face and pretend subconsciously that I wasn’t poorly or suffering with anything at all.

Maybe more awareness of this will allow my parts to intregate further and move forward as one.

Food for thought, only time would tell.


Poorly Squishy

Ive been having some deep thoughts again lately. Getting confused who is who inside my body. It’s come to light that that there are 3 parts to me. The vulnerable part of me is actually poorly me, when she comes out she is filled with grief and is non functioning. Motivated is well me and able to get through the day with some function. The other part is Katelyn.. A headspace I choose to go into. 

Who’s Katelyn?

She’s the part of me that I love. She’s innocent and beautiful, gentle and fun. Vulnerable and kind. Free from darkness. I disassociate or maybe I just truly enjoy to regress to a younger age. Some could say that maybe she is the vulnerable and broken part except when I am her, I feel joy. I feel belonging and love and I enjoy every minute of being her. But she is somewhere I go for choice. 

Falling into poorly Kate is not and when she is present it cripples everything. I’m there now. Where I feel like I’m not quite in the driving seat. It’s difficult to think, process, like watching myself bumble along. I’ve been stressed, I smoke too much, it keeps me here, disassociated. It’s that quote that says we take comfort from the familiar, in our routines.

I know it will pass. It’s frustrating to be here and to wait for it to leave, for the positive feelings to return and to feel normal. To get my ass off the sofa and to not feel so stuck there.

I’ve been ill too, physically. Draining me even further and adding more frustrating. The parts inside me do feel like different people as they function from a completely different part of me and have their own individual levels of life tolerance.

My favourite is well me. It’s always a toss between hypo mania or just doing well. Constantly asking questions, examining myself, second guessing what could be causing how I feel. I like to feel well. Alive, and able to move forward. Those first few steps are magnificent but then I’m pinned back again, In fear of engaging in life again.

Petrified of it all happening again.

Up and down. Up up up.. Down down down.

… Then nothingness until something kick starts me off to feel in the driving seat again and the cycle begins again.

Does this even make sense?

#squishysays #poorlykate