• Michelle Partington

We are no less wounded.

I cannot believe how many hits I have received on my blog. It’s only been going 3 months and I’ve received over 10000 hits. It has been read by 52 different countries and I have been blessed to have reached others who are also fighting demons. It warms me tremendously to receive an email, Facebook chat or a response direct to my blog. This was the very reason I set up the blog. A place where those trying to live with a mental illness can reach each other, open up maybe for the first time to someone who understands. Someone who isn’t going to judge, patronise or ostricise them.

Who else can understand when you can’t be bothered to do the necessary things like look after yourself?! By now you will be aware of how honest I am so lets do some more sharing. One of the more noticeable symptoms has been lethergy and lack of interest. My ‘personal admin’ has sufferred somewhat, to the point where it’s taken me weeks to cut my toenails despite the fact they have been digging into the toes next to them! I also hadn’t shaved for sometime and it’s only when my mum spotted the hair under my arm trying to escape out of my t-shirt sleeve that I actually forced myself to do it (4 days later)!! I think the hair under my arms was longer than whats on my head which is what I need to grow!! I’m definitely not into this fad of growing and dying underarm hair though; just think of those jobs you really don’t like doing that you put off for as long as you can, that’s where I’m at with everything including personal management. Don’t worry I don’t look like a yetti just yet!! To be fair, with the amount of hair that was on my legs I could have passed as a fella except I’m a little more gifted in the boobie department than most men I know!

Most days I have virtually no energy but if I want to keep going I have to get up and get on with things. I am so pleased I did today because I had a wonderful afternoon with a great friend. We walked along the sea front on a beautiful sunny day. I needed the toilet so we walked to a cafe. I opened the door and BAM!!!!! The noise just hit me square in the face. Then I noticed the place was packed solid. I couldn’t see beyond the people to see if there was a toilet in the cafe. I instantly felt smothered and couldn’t face going in there regardless of how much I needed the toilet. I probably would have wet myself rather than try to fight my way through there. I could hear very single noise, bustling of people talking, kids running around bumping into chairs, cash being jingled in pockets, til register opening and banging shut…..I just had to turn around and walk away with the door banging behind me….

I find it really difficult to accept this is my life from now on. I have made friends with a couple of physically wounded heroes and they ‘appear’ to be getting on with their lives, running a bar etc, married with children, running marathons etc. I am so very pleased for them for sure that they are adapting and getting on with life but it also saddens me. I am struggling to leave the front door most days, I find it difficult to form new relationships following my ex leaving me and it takes me all my time to run a bath never mind a marathon. People returning from war zones with PTSD are no less wounded yet we remain an enigma…..


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