Just before the new year, I decided that enough was enough. It was time to stop pretending, and live in the present (and no, I don’t mean my lowkey fantasy of becoming a Grammy-award winning artist).
For the past couple of years, I have been battling the demons from within, and consequently I did what any other British person would do in such a situation – I kept a stiff upper lip and got on with it. It’s a funny ol’ saying that, isn’t it? In some situations, all you can do is take a deep breath and continue; to not show any weaknesses and carry on.
Hang on a minute! Mental health should not fall under that banner. We NEED to talk about it. If you catch the flu, you end up banging on about it to your friends/family/co-workers. So, why is there such a stigma on talking about mental health? In fact, talking about it HELPS! And yet, it’s swept under the carpet, and you make sure that lip of yours is as stiff as a corpse.
Hand raised, that was me. I felt that I couldn’t talk about my mental health to anyone, and I refused to believe that there was anything wrong with me (pfft, me? please).
And then came the summer of 2018, where my emotional traumas of the past and the present came to light, and it changed my perspective. I took time to really look myself in the mirror and I decided that I needed help; and there is where I believe my journey to recovery began.
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