Chronic health condition, Depression, Doctors, Exhausted, Family, Grief, misunderstood, Mother and daughter, Tired

Behind The Mask

Behind my mask I am struggling everyday and I am trying to be the strongest that I can be.

A lot of doctors have no idea about mental health illnesses like depression and anxiety. It astounds me when a medical professional (especially if they’re in the mental health field) says or does something completely wrong knowing that you are mentally ill. 

I had an appointment with my gastroenterologist the other month and it was the day after Chase’s birthday or death, I can’t quite remember… Anyway so I was obviously more upset than normal and crying more, so I went into his office and had my appointment and told him how I’m really struggling at the moment and he only said ‘Well of course you are’, yeah that’s fine whatever, but when I went back two months later, I had been having a really hard time and feeling suicidal the week before the appointment so I went in and he asked me how I was going and I said ‘not good at all actually’ and he just said ‘well you look like you’re doing a lot better which is good’ and mum was with me this time and she spoke up and said ‘no, she really hasn’t been doing well and she’s really struggling’. Bob (my gastroenterologist) cut her off and argued with mum saying that I look like I am doing better and then I spoke up and said ‘just because I’m not crying doesn’t mean I’m feeling any better.’ Bob just stayed quiet and ignored that and went on to ask me about how my gastro symptoms are going. I felt so belittled by Bob and like he didn’t understand mental illnesses at all. It was a really horrible moment.

In the past a similar thing has happened and it was even harder because it was in a special mental health school. The teachers’ always thought that because I had smiled or laughed that day I was automatically not depressed anymore and they would treat me differently. My case worker saw that and understood how I was feeling, so quite a few times he had to remind those teachers that just because I smiled or laughed doesn’t mean I’m all better now. Sometimes I feel very  misunderstood by doctors and it’s really hard to understand because they’re medical professionals and you would expect them to have at least done a psych rotation at medical school right? 

The other day mum was at the doctor and a couple of days before mum’s appointment I saw that doctor. Mum has her appointment and the doctor tells mum that I’m doing quite well and I look like I’m doing good; or something like that. 
Just because I have clean clothes on and I brushed my hair doesn’t mean that I’m not struggling every day. What do doctors expect a depressed person to look like? Do us depressed people just have to walk around in our pyjamas all day with knotted hair and not having washed for a month? Or do us depressed people not get out of bed ever? But then how are we meant to go to the medical professionals to get help? And if we stay in our pyjamas all day not caring about self hygiene or stay in bed all the time and we do go to the medical professionals for help, they say that we’re not helping ourselves and making ourselves worse by not getting dressed and brushing our hair! So really, it seems that we can’t win. 

A month ago I got into a really bad depressive slump and I was very suicidal and nearly ended up in the pysch hospital again. My mum called my psychologist because she was worried about me and didn’t know what to do and my psychologists answer was to take me out to lunch! Because when I’m feeling like killing myslef because I see no reason to live, the only thing I want to do is go to a busy place for lunch and hang around outside! No, what I actually want to do is take my medication that knocks me out and go to bed until I feel like I’m not going to harm myself. When my psychologist said that, I felt so… I don’t even know what emotion I felt! I honestly couldn’t believe she had said that.

You kind of lose faith in the medical system when people who are meant to help you say such unhelpful and ignorant stuff.  

 I feel like I have gotten very good at hiding how depressed and hopeless I am. I’ve had to implement my poker face since Chase died. No one I have ever met has seen through it and seen how much I am struggling. It’s so tiring being so strong all the time and keeping my sh*t together. I just want to stay in bed all day where it’s warm and I don’t have to worry about anything outside my bedroom. I don’t know who I am outside of being majorly depressed, anxious and chronically ill.
I go to my appointments and I get dressed and I have showers and brush my hair and brush my teeth and wash my face, I do all this stuff and just because I do it, it doesn’t mean that I’m suddenly not depressed and mentally stable. 

I am broken and I will never be whole again. There will always be a part of me missing that Chase took when he died. I will always be grieving and some days it will be too hard and I WILL stay in bed all day and cry.
Being strong is good but breaking down is also good. I can’t always be strong.

I don’t know what the doctors need to see that I am struggling. My anxiety and depression are overwhelming a lot of the time but I keep going because it’s the only choice I have. I’m so sick of doctors and their small minded ideas of mental illnesses.
If doctors want to see me when I’m at my lowest then come on over to my house and watch me cry myself to sleep and cry so hard I start hyperventilation or I cry so hard that I feel like I’m going to throw up or see the look on my face when I think about everything I struggle with every day or the nosies I make because I’m so sad and I just want to die. If they want to see that to prove to them that I am in fact not doing well and depressed then they can.
I keep myself together so I can help mum because she can’t lose another child. I am struggling and I just want people to see that and acknowledge that and not assume that because I’m smiling or laughing I’m not dying inside. All I want is to be understood.

Behind my mask I am struggling everyday and I am trying to be the strongest that I can be.   

Keep safe,
Maddy xoxo 

Feel free to follow me on twitter!

 

 

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Abuse, Body image, Chronic health condition, Death, Depression, Exhausted, Family, Grief, Step-father, Tired

What happens after (Part 1)

What happens after you have a horrible step-father, your brother dies, you’re kicked out of your home, you get a plethora of health conditions, you become incredibly depressed, you become suicidal and you have such bad anxiety that some days you can’t even look out the windows or leave the house because of how anxious you feel? What happens after all that? Well, it changes you in ways you didn’t know even existed and you learn to live with everything as sad as it sounds. How I’ve felt for the past 4 years has become my normal and that’s so depressing because my new normal is sh**! The only good thing I still have is my mum, that’s all. One person keeping me here on earth. 

I think I’ll talk about each issue separately starting with Michael:

A week after Chase died I was forced back to school by my horrible step-father, he went to work and my poor mum was left at home to deal with the silence and horrendous memories of the house alone. We were all forced to go back to normal by Michael (horrible step-father) but how were we meant to go bak to normal when our normal had changed so drastically and completely in 12 weeks? I don’t understand how he was able to get up and go to work so soon after! Like what?! Who does that? Michael also thought that two weeks after we buried my brother he would talk to me about how I’ve put on a little bit of weight and how I need to loose that and be more active outside. Yeah thanks Michael, that really helped. Psychotic asshole. 

 Michael was what you didn’t want in a father or step-father. He was angry, mean, cruel, hurtful, cold, selfish, fake, narcissistic, jealous, abusive and the biggest asshole to walk this planet. He was so mean and cruel to me for no reason. He used to tell me that I was fat and lazy and that I will end up smoking bongs on the couch doing noting with my life. After dinner when I would wash the dishes he would just sit in his spot at the head of the table and glare at me for no reason. I could feel him staring at me and judging me and sending his hate towards me while I was cleaning the pots and pans. He used to also lock me outside after I got home from school because he wanted me to spend more time outside and my mum couldn’t do anything because if she spoke up he would punish the rest of us and not give us money for food or firewood for the heater or water for the water tank and then mum, my brothers and I would all have to suffer at the hands of his anger. Mum stood up for me when he really crossed the line but in the end I learnt how to keep out of his way and stay away from him. When he wasn’t home after I would come home from school that was when mum and I caught up but as soon as I heard his truck or car come up the driveway I would run up to my room and not come back down until dinner time. 
I didn’t have much of a social life because all of my friend were scared and didn’t like Michael, they didn’t want to come over and talk or see him and I don’t blame them, I didn’t want to be there either. I would often think about running away but then where would I go? And leave mum there alone? I don’t think so plus I had no where to go. 

Michael started being mean to me at around the age of 10 as I was getting my own thoughts and feelings towards people and individuating into my own person. He didn’t like that I started seeing him as he was and not as the perfect do no wrong step-father I always thought he was. When I turned a little older that’s when the real glaring, judgement and negative comments would come.
When he and mum were fighting he would all of a sudden be nice to me and pay an interest in my stuff but that would only last until mum sucked up and apologise to him. Once they were back together and ‘all good’ again he would go back to not paying any interest in me and my school stuff and ignore my reports that I would want to show him because I got A’s and I was proud of that. 

Michael thought he knew everything about everything when in fact he knew very little. I understand that because he was raised by not very warm and loving parents and he grew up the hard way moulds him into who he is today but I don’t understand why he then has to teach his kids and treat his kids how he was treated. He never loved me, he saw me as a nuisance and a road block in the way of what he really wanted which was mum. When we used to go out as ‘one big happy family’ Michael would literally push me out of the way if I was walking next to mum because he wanted to walk next to her instead; how petty is that? I’m just a kid wanting to walk next to her mum and Michael the big bully has to come and push me out of the way. In the end it got very hard not to show my hatred towards him, it got harder everyday not to snap and tell him how much I hated him but in reality that would never happen because I was scared of him. He was a big, tall, angry, scary and a violent man. I never stood a chance. 

I don’t and never will blame or resent mum for staying with Michael for so long. I understand that she had no money of her own and no place to go or support, she also had Dusty (my other brother) and Chase to think about. We were stuck. All of us were abused by Michael and it has affected me in so many ways. Nearly every night I have a nightmare with Michael in it, if I hear a car that sounds like his I get anxiety and have to stop from having a panic attack and now I have such bad self esteem and body issues because of him and what he used to say to me that I loathe myself. I can’t look in the mirror without hating what I see. He used to also call me lazy all the time so now when I’m too tired to do anything because of my chronic fatigue instead of understanding that I have an illness and I’m unwell I just think of myself as lazy which means mum spends a lot of time reassuring me and reminding me that I’m not lazy and that I’m unwell with a medical condition and valid reasons for sitting on the couch watching TV. 

I often watch movies where the girl has the perfect dad who loves and cares for her and so wish that I could have what she has. I know that a lot of girls don’t have a dad like that but I still can’t help but wish that I had a dad who would do anything for them and who builds them up instead of smashing them down. Michael was a horrid man and I will always have to go through life with the damage that he’s caused to me and my body; mental and physical. I never want to see Michael or talk to him again, he contributed to my brokenness. One day I might be able to forgive him but that’s not right now.
I try, I really do but it’s so hard when I still think and am reminded about everything he did. It also doesn’t help that when Dusty comes over he’s a constant reminder by the way he acts and what he says, he’s exactly like Michael. Dusty has no respect for me and thinks I’m fat and lazy just like Michael does. 

Getting kicked out of home with nothing but a few boxes of my clothes:

It was a Thursday night and mum and Michael had been fighting for quite a while. Mum had cooked us all dinner but Michael wasn’t home; he came home after dinner had been served and we had cleaned up. Dusty was still eating his though and he wanted some more cheese but we didn’t have any as we had used it for our dinner. Michael went and warmed up his dinner and Dusty asked for some more cheese, Michael went to the fridge to get some out but as there wasn’t any left he started slamming things and yelling at mum about there not being any cheese. Mum went down to her room and Michael sat down to eat his dinner a few minutes later Micahel got up and stormed down the hallway to their room where mum was. He slammed the door and started yelling at her. Mum started yelling out that Michael was hurting her and to let her go and to stop touching her, I eventually went down do their room (I had NEVER interrupted their fights before, I usually go to my room) and opened the bedroom door and screamed at Michael to let her go. He had mum by the wrists and was screaming angry words and threats right in her face. He looked like a mad man and when I walked in. He let her go and told mum that she needs to get out of the house and that he’ll give her 6 hours to move out tomorrow (so Friday) after he had physically assaulted mum and told her to get us out he turned around and yelled at me right in my face to get the hell out of his way; he didn’t say it in exactly those words though. I honestly thought he was going to physically hurt me too. After had he had finished yelling at us and being physical with mum he went down and ate his dinner. Yes that’s right, after all that anger and getting physical with mum and went back to the dinner table and ate his dinner like nothing had happened, what a psycho. Who does that? Who can physically assault his wife and demand that she moves out of ‘his house’ and then go and eat dinner like nothing had happened in the past half an hour? A psychopath that’s who. After he finished dinner he went outside and got the boxes from storage and gave them to mum and told her to pack up her sh** and then he left again. Mum and I started to pack Chase’s room first, taking the most sentimental stuff like his clothes and toys and a few of his funeral programmes. After Chase’s room I went up and threw all of my clothes into boxes not taking notice of what I took and what I left. I left so many of my things behind, I literally only took my clothes. On Friday I took the day off school and mum and I moved our boxes to mum’s little investment house in the town over. The house was incredibly small with only one bedroom, no heater, no water, no gas, no firewood and no cooling; not that we needed cooling as it was the middle of winter! Mum and I had managed to move all our clothes and stuff within the 6 hours that Michael gave us to move out.

The hardest part of getting kicked out was leaving Chase’s room and everything in there. Chase’s room was where I could go and cry and miss him without the judgment of Michael. Living in that little house was incredibly hard when there was 3 people living in a one bedroom house. Dusty and I slept on mattresses that were given to us by friends on the floor in the bedroom meanwhile mum slept on a mattress in the lounge room. 
There was no privacy at that house and no place where I could go and break down and let out all the feelings I had abut what had happened and Michael. We got through it though and after mum borrowed quite a lot of money off one of her friends we were able to get out of that tiny house and move into a normal size house where I had my own bedroom and bathroom and mum had her own bedroom and bathroom. Plus it had heating and cooling which was great! My anxiety was just starting out but it wasn’t that bad that I couldn’t go to school or leave the house. My depression also wasn’t bad either, it was a year after Chase had died so I was still in the numb, processing stage and hadn’t completely gotten the fact that my brother had died.

Health conditions (Gastroparesis, chronic fatigue syndrome, pelvic floor dysfunction):

My health conditions mostly started after we moved into the normal house. That’s when the extreme bloating, pain, fatigue and other yucky symptoms started to happen. It’s also when my anxiety became severe and so did my depression and I ended up leaving my mainstream school and enrolling into Distance Education. I’ll talk about my anxiety and depression more in part 2 of ‘What happens after’ but for now I’ll talk about all the stomach issues and fatigue. 

After I had left my school and started Distance Education I’d wake up every day looking 7 months pregnant and in a lot of pain. I would also sleep for 15 hours a day and be fatigued for the rest of the hours I was awake. I made trips to the emergency room quite a few times because of my bloating and pain and also because I would have blood in my poo (TMI I know, but that’s part of my life and this is a blog about my life so…) which isn’t normal. I would always get sent home from the hospital and told that I was fine and to take over the counter pain relief; it didn’t help with all the other symptoms, it helped with the pain a little but but that’s it. I got referred to see a gastroenterologist at the Royal Children’s Hospital and he booked me in for a colonoscopy and endoscopy. As I had thought they didn’t find anything and he told me to go home and to come back in a few months. Well, I wasn’t happy with that so I went and saw a paediatrician who told me I have chronic fatigue syndrome and associated POTS but my bowel issues and bloating was because I was overweight and that I just had to lose the weight and I’d be fine. Yeah thanks. Mum and I were relieved that we finally had an answer as to why I was so tired all the time and got exhausted walking from my bedroom to the lounge room, but as my stomach issues persisted and I still had pain, bloating and blood in my poo we went and got a referral from my GP to go see a different gastroenterologist privately. My new gastroenterologist has been great up until now as there’s not much more he can do for me unfortunately. 

When I went in for my first appointment he took me very seriously and listened to everything I had to say and told me that he thinks that I have Ulcerative Colitis, he put me on steroids and booked me into hospital to have another colonoscopy done and to get an MRI. Well, I went on the steroids and got the unfortunate side effects from them (extreme hunger, mood swings, moon face ect) and then went into hospital for what turned out to be a week long stay. I had to do a 3 day flush out which meant I couldn’t eat anything solid for three days and had to take a number of disgusting laxatives. If you’re reading this and you’ve had to have a colonoscopy before then you know what I mean when I say the actual flushout stuff is the most disgusting thing in this world. Anyway, I did the colonoscopy and they didn’t find anything (typical) so I was taken off the steroids and then had to have an MRI done of my whole digestive system; that was super uncomfortable as I had to lay on my stomach for an hour. Once again they didn’t find anything abnormal and I was told I just have sever IBS and I was sent home and to get another follow up appointment with my gastroenterologist. We went back to him and he told me because I’m so constipated I have to do a flush out once EVERY MONTH! Nooooo 😩😷 So I continued doing that and as nothing was improving, I was still bloated, in pain and constipated he told me that I needed to go get a gastric emptying study done (http://www.medicinenet.com/gastric_emptying_study/article.htm). So I went and did that and FINALLY something came back abnormal and we got some answers. It turns out I have something called Gastroparesis. This pretty much means that my stomach is a little bit paralysed and doesn’t empty food as quickly as a normal stomach does. I can’t tell you how relieved I was that I finally had some answers! So the end diagnosis with my stomach is sever IBS and Gastroparesis. My gastroenterologist has put me on a medication called Motilium which has really helped; I can now eat without getting a severe stomach ache and severe nausea which is nice. I still get pain, I’m still bloated and I still get constipated but now I know why. 
The cause of my constipation isn’t just from my gastroparesis and IBS though, it turns out I also have Pelvic Floor Dysfunction. The problem with my pelvic floor is that it’s always tight and doesn’t relax and let go. You know when you do your kegel exercises and you can squeeze in and then relax again, well my pelvic floor doesn’t relax when I let go. This means that it’s hard for my poo to come out and it also means I can rarely use a tampon when I get my period. I have exercises I do but otherwise there’s not much else I can do at the moment. 
I’ve talked about my Chronic Fatigue before so I won’t go into that again… https://depresssedmesswithanxietyandgrief.wordpress.com/2016/07/28/living-life-in-the-slooooooow-lane/

Alright peeps, this is a really long post so I’ll leave it here and I’ll upload part 2 next week. Stay safe. 

Maddy xoxo 

PS- Go check out a singer called Agnes Obel if you don’t know her already. She has some beautiful songs. 

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Chronic health condition, Death, Depression, Exhausted, Family, Grief, Tired

I’m so tired of everything

 

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I’m so tired, not in the sense that I need more sleep, well I do need more sleep, but I’m talking about being tired mentally and emotionally.  I feel like I’m in quick sand just trying to keep my head above board and trying to live day by day. If I only had my depression and anxiety and grief to deal with I think I’d be ok but I have so many other things to have to deal with. It’s too much; especially for a seventeen year old.

I don’t understand why some people have such easy lives with nothing bad happening and then some people have to struggle to keep going and not give up. I really do feel like I got the short end of the stick and I’m just going to say it… It’s not fair, I deserve better! I know people who live their lives with nothing  bad happening and they just travel the world and have a big group of friends and then there are people like me who have a dead brother, generalised and social anxiety, a plethora of health conditions and a mountain load of grief weighing them down everyday. I feel as though I deserve something more and better than this. I wake up in the morning in pain and feel like I haven’t slept at all even though I could have slept for 12 hours I then shuffle my way down the hallway to start complaining to mum about how tired and sore I am and how I look 7 months pregnant today instead of my standard 5 months, I then have to take my medication which I take three times a day so I can eat without experiencing horrible stomach aches and nausea and then I spend my day doing what I can depending on how tired I feel and how much pain I’m in. Then when it comes time to go to bed I lay there for hours and hours and end up getting to sleep after 3am or sometimes I don’t get to sleep at all! Yay for me.

How am I meant to do a diploma and placement if I feel tired all day everyday? I’ve tried taking sleeping pills and they work for the first week but then they stop and when they do work the next day I wake up feeling like I have a massive chronic fatigue flare up. I really can’t win. 

I need a break, even if it’s just for a day I would really like a break from my life and everything that comes with that, but that’s not possible and that’s really sad because this is my life and I have to learn to accept it for what it is. Yes it’s pretty sh** at the moment but I’m really hoping that it starts to get better soon and something changes because I can’t go through life not enjoying anything and just going day by day. I need something more and to believe that I will travel the world and have friends and a social life and that I will be happy one day. I need to believe that because if I don’t then what’s the point of living? My only reason is mum and that’s enough but it would be nice to live for something more as well. 

Well It’s 4am and I’m catching up on Millionaire Matchmaker while I write this blog and I don’t see sleep in the near future so maybe I should have breakfast?! 😉

Love to you all,
Maddy xoxo

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Ps- I love Greys Anatomy 

 

 

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Death, Depression, Grief, Uncategorized

A letter to my brother

Dear Chase,

I miss you, I miss you so much it hurts all of the time. I still can’t believe that you’re gone and that you’ve died and that you’re not here. That you will never experience what life has to offer; good and bad. You will always be five years a month and a day in my eyes, you will never grow up and have children or get married, you will never have your first drink or travel the world, and you will never be there growing old with me. You were my little brother and you meant so much to me. I loved you so much. You were my favourite sibling and you always will be, not because you’ve died but because you were meant to be my brother and because we come from the same soul group; I truly believe that. I also believe that one day I will see you again because the alternative is that I will never see you again and that’s just too hard. 

You were so brave and strong. You were the most amazing person, you and mum inspire me everyday to keep on going and not to give up, even though I want to many times a week. Sometimes its so hard to remember why I can’t kill myself and why I do have to keep on living and the two reasons I always go back to is that one: mum needs me and I can’t leave her, that’s just too horrible and two: I believe that if I kill myself before my time to die I will miss you and mum and have to reincarnate and I will never get to see you again. You and mum is what’s keeping me alive on this planet and you’re not even here with me! You’re dead, you died. You died and left me. You left me and you left mum and since then we’ve had to go through so much crap. I get so angry at you sometimes for leaving and dying but then I feel bad because what sister gets angry at their dead brother from dying from cancer? Am I a horrible sister for not going to the cemetery also?

I still can’t believe that you’ve died sometimes, my brain can’t comprehend that I will never get to see your beautiful face again and play superheroes and crocodile crocodile with you. But the truth and reality is is that you are dead and that I will never get to play superheroes and crocodile crocodile with you again. 

You got diagnosed on March 8th and died on May 31st and between those two months I watched you deteriorate to the point where you couldn’t walk, sit or crawl by your self, mum had to carry you every where and you mostly just stayed in bed while I had to go to school and not spend time with you. Your cancer was terminal, you were going to die and yet I had to go to school and waste seven hours a day learning stuff I still don’t remember now while you were at home getting killed by your brain tumour. 

The day you died I remember not seeing you in the morning and it was a Thursday, I went to school and had to re-take a maths test that I’d failed (gee I wonder why that was!) and then I got on the bus and came home and the palliative care doctor had come while I was at school and you had IV lines in you with medication and you never woke up. Your breathing became different around 5-6pm and mum rang the doctor and they said not much longer and then on the Friday at around 12:12 that morning you died. I literally watched you take your last breath. The feeling of hope I felt when I got to your room and saw you take that breath was a feeling like no other and is indescribable and I will always remember that feeling there is also no way I will ever forget how I felt in those five seconds thinking that you were still alive and then you didn’t take another one. It was official, you had literally just taken your last breath. 

The come down from that feeling of hope is also another feeling I will never forget. You were so still and pale, you looked like yourself but at the same time you didn’t. You could tell that you were dead and that there was no more life in your small body. You died in Mums arms and that’s how it should’ve been, I’m glad you had mum there with you. 

Why did you die Chase? Was it so mum would leave Michael and find a new life for herself? Why? Why did you die and leave us? Why did you get DIPG? Why couldn’t you get another cancer if you had to get cancer that could be cured? I don’t understand why you got the rarest one, is that because you’re a rare human? There’s so many ‘why’s’ and I just want an answer to one of them. And why did you have to leave mum? She’d been through so much already and then you have to go and die and make it worse. I wish you would’ve made mum leave Michael another way without dying.

I know you’re still around, I get signs and I heard you say the other day say ‘I love you Maddy’ and I saw that avengers symbol on my top, but that makes me feel worse sometimes because it just reminds me that you’re not hear and that you’ve died. I try so hard to lock and shut those feelings down because if I let them out like I have the past two weeks I become incredibly depressed again and have to remind my self the reasons to keep on living. 

You truly were a superhero and shining star little brother. You were the best sibling and brother anyone could ask for. You and mum make me feel love I didn’t even know was possible. I am so proud of you and who you were in those short five years. everyone who met you loved you and thought you were amazing. No body ever thought you were anything other than amazing. 

I don’t know how to describe how I feel about you dying most of the time. Most of the time it’s indescribable. How do you explain to people how you feel about watching your brother die and then have to live with everything that comes after that? You can’t, it’s impossible. 

Did you know that you were going to die since you were born? Did you know that we would only have you for five years? I wish so much that you could give me some bloody answers. No one has answers for me, no one knows why you died and why you died of such a horrible thing. 

I love you so much Chase and I hope you know that. I hope you know that while I was stuck at school I wish I was at home with you even though all you wanted to do was play superheroes with mum. 

I wish I could do what mum says about thinking of seeing your signs as a blessing and knowing that you’re still around but I just cant do that right now, maybe one day but not today. 

I’m scared that one day I’ll somehow forget about you, that I’ll forget that I had a brother like you and I know that sounds horrible but it is one of my fears, right up there with mum finding someone else she’ll love more than me and want to spend more time with.

It’s coming up to that time when you tell someone about you dying and they ask how long ago and you say 4, 5, 6, 7 years and it sounds like such a long time ago when in reality it feels like it happened last week, yesterday or never. I don’t want that to happen I don’t want people thinking any less of my grief because it happened 7 years ago. I don’t want people thinking any less of your death because it was 7 years ago. 

I don’t want to make peace with you dying because I don’t want to accept that I will never see you again and that you’re dead. In a way me still being in denial makes sure that i will always remember you and that your death will not mean nothing. You meant everything and I still want to believe with everything that I am that you will come home one day or that I’ll wake up and it was just a nightmare but I know that’s not true and yet I still can’t come to terms with it. 

I love you so much Chase and I will never forget you, ever. 

With all the love that I have, 
your sister Maddy.

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Depression

Depression will probably be the death of me

I have suffered depression for about a year and a half now. It was manageable in the first six months, but then it started getting worse.
The feelings that I were experiencing were different from anything I have ever felt before and that scared me. It overwhelmed me. I wish I could say that with all the counselling I got and my one supportive parent that I had, I have gotten on top of it a year later, but no, I am still drowning in the black hole that is depression. It’s true what they say, it honestly does feel like there is a little black dog following you around all the time ruining what little happiness you may experience. It is hard work getting rid of this dog, I am still working profusely to get rid of it. This dog seems to posses magic powers though, the power of making me want to kill myself. It’s not easy fighting off those thoughts of “You’re nothing” ,”You’re worthless and no one will ever end up loving you”, “You’re stupid and fat and no one is going to want to be around you” my favourite one though is “Just kill yourself already and end it all, because honestly what is the point of living? You have nothing to live for”. That last thought is the main thought I have to battle with. It crawls into my mind nearly everyday, just egging me on to give up and leave the one person who is there for me through thick and thin; my beautiful and amazing mother. I could never leave my mum. She is my rock and I hers, but a lot of the time it feels like her rock is getting smaller and it’s not big enough for me to hold on to anymore. Suicide is not fun. It makes me feel weak and like a failure. I do not like feeling like that Sam I am. I want to feel powerful and strong, but that damn dog just loves to bite me and remind me of all the reasons why I can’t be powerful and strong apparently. I try and not listen to those unhelpful and mean thoughts, but it’s easier said than done.

It seems that I am still ‘here’  though, wherever that is. I must admit that I have had a helping hand from the psychiatric hospital once or twice… and BTW, the psych ward is NO trip to Luna Park! It is cold, lonely, boring and depressing as hell!

I have worked for a long time with my psychologist to help ‘kill’ my little puppy that seems intent on hanging around with me and my bros (Ha! Just kidding! I have no friends, but that’s another story for another day. 🙂 ) I have tried Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT), altering my negative thoughts to positive thoughts, medication, the psych ward and what else? Oh thats right! A little bit of exercise just to spice things up a bit…. But in my defence that was really hard to do because my toes had to have surgery on them which I got done last week, so once they heal up 100% I can start to go for walkies every day! Yay!!! 😉

At the end of the exhausting day my aim is to wake up one day and not see the black canine wagging its tale ready for what feels like round one billionth in the never ending ball game of ‘Lets see what can wear Maddy down the most to see her break and try to stab herself or overdose!” Sounds like a fun game huh? Do you wanna join in?

I guess at the end of the day though, the only person who can help me is myself. And I am trying to work on myself as much as I can.

Keep safe peeps,
Maddy xoxo

 

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Grief

Grief takes time… Bite me!!!

Everyone says grief is normal, but unless those people telling you it’s normal have been through grief, they don’t know how not normal it feels! Grief is not something you can put a time limit on. It takes time; sometimes lots of time.

Two years ago my five-year old brother died from a brain tumor, it has been two years but it feels like it happened yesterday, ten years ago or not at all! When you’re grieving it seems like there is no way to measure time. Time just doesn’t seem to exist… I have heard from many people that the first year is the hardest after losing someone who is close to you, I call that bull***t. It is as hard for me today as it was two years ago.

Grief is one of those emotions  that you can not explain; there are absolutely no words to describe how it actually feels to grieve the loss of a loved one.

Psychologists say that there are seven stages to the grief cycle, they are: shock/disbelief, denial, bargaining, guilt, anger, depression and acceptance. I can tell you now that I still go through all of those stages every day.

It is so important to have friends and family surrounding you when you’re grieving. But you really want those friends and family members to be understanding and not judging. There is nothing worse than feeling rushed when you are going through the grieving process. I had supportive friends for around the first six months to a year but as soon as it hit the year mark of my brothers death, they literally said that I need to be happier and get on with my life! Like wtf?! What a stupid and incredibly insensitive thing to say…

No one understands how it feels to lose a brother unless they’ve lost their own brother. I miss him every day, he was the closest person to me except for my mum.

Keep strong guys, and I’ll keep strong too.

Xoxo

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