My First Suicide Attempt: #Storytime

TRIGGER WARNING:
Suicide and elements of
death are mentioned
throughout the article.
Proceed with caution.
Viewer discretion advised.

Continue reading My First Suicide Attempt: #Storytime

Some Things That Need Clarification…

Just because I don’t post much about mental health, doesn’t mean I’m cured or have given up on the cause

I’ve had a few messages sent to me asking me how I went from talking on my struggles to posting more light-hearted posts. The simple answer is that I post what I feel like posting.

First off, why would I post just mental health posts if it makes people feel sorry for me? I realised that I want people to celebrate my life, not feel sorry for my past. I am stronger than I ever was, thank you very much.

Secondly, I am working a LOT on mental health outside of the blogging world. I get contacted DAILY by people who read my article on local websites (links above) and I guide them wherever I can.

So the answer is no. I have not given up on the cause. And neither am I cured. I struggle everyday. I just don’t show it.

When I give advice, it’s because I experienced the situation… so it doesn’t necessarily mean I’m giving a good advice

I give a whole bunch of advice to my friends, coworkers and even strangers over Facebook on how to be both physically and mentally better. But I always make it clear that I am not in any shape, way or form a professional, and that they should consult a proper doctor/psychologist/therapist.

I just give advice for a temporary “fix”. Professionals can give a more permanent fix, and can put you on medications or sign you up for any necessary therapy.

I still struggle. Every day.

Not much can be said about this, except for what it says. I may be recovering better than anyone expected, but I still have my struggles. I would like to buy a camera to take better blog pictures with but I cannot afford it, because I spent a lot of money on medications and therapy. I have also invested a lot of money on driving lessons to get my license by the end of the year if possible, and on the biggest trip of my life with my best friend.


But I wouldn’t change any of this. Because this is

My life

My opinion

MY WAY.

#ClaireNotes – January 2017

Happy New Year, beautiful people! Hope you spent it the way your heart desired, just like myself.

As part of a new series inspired by Marzia, I will be writing down three things I want to do each month, and talk about achieving them (… or maybe not achieving them?), so let’s get started! I wrote all the notes on this diary from boohoo.com. Small and really portable since it’s quite small.

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1. Clean Closet [Achieved]

… Particularly where I put my bags.

This had to be done months ago, but juggling work, my surprisingly amazing relationship and my severe procrastination, had proven harder than I imagined. Unfortunately, my photos got mysteriously deleted from my phone, so I have no evidence of what the mess looked like… but imagine this: tote bags, crossbody bags, backpacks, handbags, shoulder bags, clutch bags, messenger bags, and so so much more – covering all my bed and the patch of ground between my bed and wardrobe.

2. €200 Budget [Achieved]

With just over EUR50 left, I cannot believe I achieved this goal! I had a doctors’ appointment which cost me almost EUR85 including meds, two driving lessons, photocopies for work, mobile+transport card top ups and more.

Will probably do more budget-related challenges… maybe a EUR50 Outfit Challenge in the future?…

3. Declutter work desk… [Achieved]

This was particularly hard to do since I became a hoarder when I was diagnosed with depression, and I had so many papers and little trinkets lying about… even behind my laptop! But truly, clear space = clear mind

… and vanity [Achieved too]

I’d been wanting to clean my vanity for ages and I finally found some time… on a Sunday night. Cold. Rainy. I cleaned the jewellery box my sister gave me for Christmas in 2015, placing my pins, earrings and rings in the new one she gave me last Christmas. I also sorted my make-up into skincare, lipsticks/lipglosses and others (eye make-up, nail stuff, etc.)


These were my January Notes. I hope you like this series. Let me know in the comment section below what you managed to achieve this month, and your goals for the next month, and I’ll see you in the next one!

 

Bio Poem

This is a bio poem which I wrote with my Year 5 students today, and thought I would share it with you all 🙂

bio-poem

Hope you enjoyed reading it! I had a ball writing this with my students, as it helped us get to know each other (even though I’ve been with them since January 2016).

See you in the next one!

PS. I JUST SPENT SOME TIME CREATING A BANNER FOR THE BLOG! HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT!

“It all just got real…” – My Journey to Being Diagnosed

I led a normal childhood, as far as I can remember. I was the imaginative, creative weirdo who loved her imaginary friends and playing soccer. I had really good friends of both genders, played well with everyone and the teachers mostly loved me. However, I always had the same problem: I thought too little about consequences of my actions, but was preoccupied with what people taught of me: always was and probably always will be.

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I had a normal, happy childhood

There was nothing weird with my family. My parents are your average, strict hard-working parents who wanted the best for their children, and my older sister was… well… an older sister. She means well, I know, but sometimes she can be a bit harsh. But in a good sisterly way, I’m sure.

Fast forward to when I turned eleven: when the problems started. I was moved to all-girls secondary (high) school. I had no friends except for one a year above me (who’s still my best friend to this day… TEN YEARS LATER!), and I always sat with my sister during free periods. I had acne, low self-esteem and a reputation for being an outcast. I went from playing and talking to everyone to being left out, getting picked last for team work and talking to nobody but my sister and my best friend. During secondary school, I used to think I had depression, but brushed it off. The idea never stuck. Me, former class clown, depressed?! Nah!

I only ever liked three subjects at school: English, Italian and French. Having three languages was no walk in the park. I loved writing stories in English and present them to my teachers, who all told me the same thing: “You have talent”. I used to hate my French teacher for the two years that I had her, and never did my homework. She told me I’d fail, but I always got good marks in French. Italian was a different story. We were a tight-knit group, and I still sometimes talk to some of them when I see them around.

Also during this time I was bullied. The names were endless: weirdo, strange, Shrek, ugly. I was also called names for listening to rock music and always being gloomy. But that’s how I was. They’d never understand the consequences of their words.

In June 2011, I lost my uncle to cancer. It was one of the saddest days of my life. Despite not being too close with him, he always had nothing but wise words of wisdom to tell me and my sister. The day he died I was sick, in bed, studying his favourite subject: the French Revolution. I dedicated my History exam to him… didn’t go so well. I got an E. Sorry, Uncle. I still love you.

That year, in October, came the saddest day of my life: losing my grandfather. My hero, the greatest man to ever enter my life. He was smart, funny, a good man all in all: the person I aspired to become when I was older. I spent that day just staring without a focus on things. I was so sad that all I did when I went home was stare at the ceiling, remember the good old days with him. The laughter, sadness and wisdom we shared together. Losing him left me devastated and unable to cope.

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Losing my hero left me devastated

That led me to a downward spiral. I’d call my mum, crying that I hated everyone and everything, that I was alone and no one would miss me. This left her a little worried, but she brushed it off as a phase, simple sadness or something of that sort. 2011-2012 were the worst years of my life. My grades were plummeting; I had just two friends and being single didn’t help at all. I thought nobody wanted to be with me, or even liked me. I hid it all: the pain, the sadness, being lonely and alone. I hid it like it was nothing. And I was good at it. I good at making people think I was okay.

Fast forward three years. I was still sad, constantly tired, didn’t enjoy the things I used to love—reading and watching series—and my self-esteem was ever so low.

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I hid my sadness very well

During that time, however, something did change: I started seeing someone. As he plays a role in this, we’ll call him X. X was smart, charming, a fellow animal lover and mature. I was instantly in love. We were both Beatles fans, and having met for the first time on John Lennon’s birthday made the relationship extra special. I was working as a secretary, and was not happy with my job. X encouraged me to call someone for help. Something I wanted to do for ten years… and it happened. I called my psychologist, Dr G, and set up my first appointment for December 2015. Also during that time, I went to see a doctor, and told him about my health issues. He told me to take a blood test, because it might have been thyroid issues, and if they came out negative, chances are I have depression. And, lo and behold…

The tests came out negative.

I had depression. It all just got real now. After ten years, I was finally diagnosed.

Soon enough, things with X were going sour. He’d be encourage me to do thigs the hard way—go hard or go home, he’d tell me in his own way—like putting on make-up, changing my style, moving out, not listen to my parents and much more. X would tell me he means well and cares about my wellbeing, which for him meant cutting my family off. Unfortunately, being blinded by my love for him, I listened to him. I spent about three months not talking to my family.

Things started getting worse, and one day, he just told me that it was better to stay away from him. I spent the next three days in hospital, crying for him, crying for dear life, with my mother by side. Oh, mother, if it wasn’t for you then, I’d probably have killed myself. She came with me to every doctor’s appointment, kissed me goodnight and checked up on me constantly. I felt stupid for having cut her off of my life because of X. Stupid and foolish and sad at the same time.

And finally we come to the present:

  • I’m seeing a specialist every four weeks to overlook my progress
  • I’m in a fun, amazing relationship
  • My family still loves me
  • My friends both love me to bits
  • I started this blog

And most of all…

  • I am where I want to be 🙂

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