I've just been writing an introduction about myself and my experiences for a magazine. It made me incredibly sad, because I've had to think about everything I've lost due to my psychosis.
I'm from a poor background, I left home at 14, went to work at 16, and education wasn't really an option for me, as I needed money to survive. As I got older though I was fed up with the minimum wage slog, I wanted something different. I wanted to improve my chances. More than anything, I wanted to learn. I've always been an avid reader, (I can spend hours in waterstones with a pile of books and a cup of coffee), and I adore literature. So I decided to go back to school! I enrolled at college on an access course, and by 2015 I was a mature student at university. Unfortunately that's where it ended. It was 2015 that I first got ill. It crept up on me, took my concentration, my love of books, my ability to write. It took my enthusiasm, my motivation, my vision of a future. I vividly remember the week I had to leave. I sat on a wall outside this stunning building and cried and cried, because I knew. I knew it just wasn't possible anymore. I walked into the admissions office in a daze, I signed several slips of paper, phoned student finance, and that was it. As quickly as that, I was out.
I think the worst thing had to be telling my family. They weren't aware of the extent of my mental health, they didn't know how extreme the paranoia was or that I heard voices, and they had been so proud when I got to uni. I was the first one to 'make it'. That I suddenly left was confusing for them, and because I couldn't explain properly I felt like even more of a failure.
Obviously now I know I made the right decision. I couldn't carry on under the pressures of full time study. It took all my strength just to get up in the morning. But every now and then I can't help thinking what if...? Where would I be now if this hadn't happened? My life as I know it now wouldn't exist. The eight pills a day, the side effects, the simplicity that I need in order to function. I'd be a completely different person. That's a weird thing to imagine.
I'll finish by saying that although I sometimes miss the old me, my old life, I am truly thankful for what I have now. There are plenty worse off than I am. And in my heart I know that I'm getting there. Where 'there' is, I'm not quite sure, but I'm on my way.
I'm from a poor background, I left home at 14, went to work at 16, and education wasn't really an option for me, as I needed money to survive. As I got older though I was fed up with the minimum wage slog, I wanted something different. I wanted to improve my chances. More than anything, I wanted to learn. I've always been an avid reader, (I can spend hours in waterstones with a pile of books and a cup of coffee), and I adore literature. So I decided to go back to school! I enrolled at college on an access course, and by 2015 I was a mature student at university. Unfortunately that's where it ended. It was 2015 that I first got ill. It crept up on me, took my concentration, my love of books, my ability to write. It took my enthusiasm, my motivation, my vision of a future. I vividly remember the week I had to leave. I sat on a wall outside this stunning building and cried and cried, because I knew. I knew it just wasn't possible anymore. I walked into the admissions office in a daze, I signed several slips of paper, phoned student finance, and that was it. As quickly as that, I was out.
I think the worst thing had to be telling my family. They weren't aware of the extent of my mental health, they didn't know how extreme the paranoia was or that I heard voices, and they had been so proud when I got to uni. I was the first one to 'make it'. That I suddenly left was confusing for them, and because I couldn't explain properly I felt like even more of a failure.
Obviously now I know I made the right decision. I couldn't carry on under the pressures of full time study. It took all my strength just to get up in the morning. But every now and then I can't help thinking what if...? Where would I be now if this hadn't happened? My life as I know it now wouldn't exist. The eight pills a day, the side effects, the simplicity that I need in order to function. I'd be a completely different person. That's a weird thing to imagine.
I'll finish by saying that although I sometimes miss the old me, my old life, I am truly thankful for what I have now. There are plenty worse off than I am. And in my heart I know that I'm getting there. Where 'there' is, I'm not quite sure, but I'm on my way.
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