Let's talk about rape

I want to write a blog about rape, something that’s deeply personal to me. I’m very cautious about writing this because it’s something that just in general isn’t spoken about. It makes me feel very vulnerable, so please be kind. I think though that talking about it is important, so more women and girls can realise that they are not alone, that there are ways of coping with it and that life can get better. Some of you will know I have been sexually assaulted and raped over a period over my formative years and that it has had a profound effect on my life, outlook and mental health. However I feel I have taken lots of steps to overcome some of the obstacles that I’ve had to endure. I want to write some facts about rape and try and clear up a few misconceptions and hopefully give a little bit of knowledge about how to survive it, or how to support someone through it. Please note that I am writing this from the perspective of a woman or girl, because that’s what I know.

Fact 1. Most people know their rapist and many are groomed

I think when people imagine rape they imagine someone being grabbed on a dark night by a random man they don’t know. That happens but very frequently the woman/girl knows her assailant. Often she is groomed and very frequently it’s a primary caregiver. Being groomed is a process that can start young, is subtle, deceptive, and cruel. It makes you question everything your instincts tell you and it leaves you feeling tainted. Rapists may say such things to a child as: “You sat on my knee today and you bounced about, you wanted this.” “What would your Mum/Gran/teacher/sister think if they knew what you were doing now, you’d be in big trouble.” “Little girls like you get sent to children’s homes.” “You are scum for doing this, nobody would want you after this.” The main theme in my own experience was that I would be the one who would get in trouble if people found out.

Grooming in adulthood could consist of a rapist/abuser saying “If you love me you’ll do this.” “I just got carried away.” “You put the idea in my head by telling me not to do that!” “I’ll tell everyone you’re a whore if you don’t do this.” In both cases often it is wrapped up and disguised as a gift of love.

The abuse can often be subtle. It can creep up. It can start (in childhood and adulthood) with some inappropriate touching and very gradually build up so that by the time you realise that something very wrong is happening, you don’t know how to tell, because it’s gone on so long and how do you explain? Imagine being eleven and having to explain to your teacher/parents/grandparents that you think that someone is having sex with you, when just thinking about it makes you feel dirty. So it becomes a shameful secret. As an adult that kind of grooming can leave you feeling like it’s your own fault; in childhood, it’s even worse. In both cases all the shame that should be on the rapist/abuser is placed on oneself. It makes you feel like you gave consent even when you didn’t. Both types of abuse make you feel like it’s your own fault. Sometimes it starts so young that you don’t even remember it starting. It’s just something that has always happened and you don’t realise it’s wrong until it’s far too late for you to feel like you can do anything to stop it. Always, adult and child, with grooming it’s extremely difficult to tell anyone else what’s going on because there is so much shame.

Fact 2. Once it’s happened once, it is far easier for it to happen again

It’s true that children who are abused often go on to be adults who are abused. I have experienced sexual abuse in both childhood and adulthood. When I was an adult I fell into a relationship with an abuser. He made me think it was love. He told me that he had to warn me that once he started having sex he couldn’t stop so that if I consented to have sex with him I couldn’t stop it once it had started. Naively I thought this was okay, after all, men have always been unable to control their sexual impulses in the past and being forced to do things was the norm. I ended up in frequent situations with this man when I would be pushed into violent sex with him, where I’d beg him to stop and he would continue hurting me until he decided it was enough. He would even violate me by taken condoms off during sex without my knowledge. I had been groomed in the past to accept this kind of behaviour as loving. I felt that it was something in me, or about me, that made me turn men like this, rather than it be about them and what they do.

Fact 3. Rape and sexual abuse affects mental health

I remember aged eleven finally realising what was happening after having sex education in school and the topic of abuse being covered (not very well, I might add!) The reality of my situation really hit me. I still didn’t feel able to tell anyone what was happening and I just felt disgusted, and that disgust was turned inwards on myself. I remember the first time I self-harmed. I was doing homework, in which we were doing something with a compass. I remember dragging the compass along my foot – not hard enough to cause serious injury but enough that it bled. It felt like a relief. It felt like a punishment for being so dirty. From then on I self-harmed off and on. It started of with little cuts here and there where nobody would see. I would also bang my head against the wall and make myself sick. The sickness was to try and get the thing out my body that felt disgusting. As I got older and left home (at 16), I started to self-harm more often and cause more injury with my cuts. Now, aged 35, I have scars all over my body. I’ve cut to the bone. I only stopped cutting when, aged 31, I met Howard, and still even now I still think about it – not every day any more, but whenever I dwell on the rapes I get a strong feeling of disgust at my body and I want to hurt myself.

It’s no secret that I have a serious mental health condition. Would I have it if I hadn’t been raped? Nobody can know for sure, but the way my psychiatrist explained it is that some people have a genetic predisposition for some kinds of mental illness. Some people go through their lives and it’s never triggered but others have trauma or other stressful events and their mental illness is activated. Having PTSD is also a common reaction to rape and abuse.

I’ve been in the psychiatric hospital so many times. It’s amazing how when talking to the other patients the subject of rape pops up, and it’s no coincidence that many women that I have met through hospital have gone through rape and often childhood sexual abuse.

Fact 4. Women who are raped are often afraid of men

I am very afraid of men. I view every man as a potential rapist. In particular I am afraid of the penis because a penis has been used as a weapon that really hurt me. I am very rarely alone with male friends. When I go on dates the fear of being raped is at the forefront of my mind. Sometimes I can be reckless and put myself in positions where I might be abused (this depends on my bipolar), while at other times I’m extremely cautious. Usually I do pursue relationships and try and act like a “normal” person would, but at the back of my mind I think “he’s going to rape me”. I am anticipating it often years after I’ve been in a relationship with someone. I would say with Howard it really only has been this year that I fully trust him never to hurt me in that way. It’s extremely frustrating for my male partners to accept that I expect that at some point they will do this.

I have never been grabbed in the street and raped by a stranger. However I know that this can happen and I believe that most men are potential rapists, so I walk alone at night with my keys in my hand and with my phone ready to dial for help. My startle response, my fight or flight reaction is very high. I panic if there is a man walking behind me when I get off the bus at night and have to do the short walk to my flat. I am terrified of that happening. When I sleep alone in my flat I am afraid that a man will break into my flat and attack me. I am afraid that my past abusers will show up and hurt me all over again. I cannot go through that again. It would destroy me to have to go through that again.

Fact 5. A woman/girl can orgasm during a rape

This is something I find really hard to talk about but not enough people understand this so I am pushing myself to share. I had orgasms during my rapes. I had mini orgasms when I didn’t even know what an orgasm was, and when I realised what was happening I felt extremely distressed. This does not mean I “enjoyed” being raped, just more that my body reacted to the stimulus. If someone forced me to sniff pepper the chances are I would sneeze even if I really didn’t want to sneeze. This response is very similar. I have spent literally years feeling disgusted with myself and shameful about this. When I was old enough to realise what an orgasm was and what was happening to me I just felt disgusted. I remember his face up close to mine and him whispering “You want this, you’re enjoying this”. I would lay silent. I would try not not react to the sensations in my body. It made me hate myself and hate my body.

Now years later in my thirties I realise that it’s not abnormal for this to happen. There are many other women out there who have similar experiences to mine. My therapist was very reassuring about this – that it’s normal and common and it doesn’t make me disgusting or dirty, so if you have been sexually abused/raped and experience an orgasm, you are not dirty, you didn’t want it to happen and you are not tainted and the shame is on your rapist.

Fact 5. Triggers

I know that “triggering” is a word that is overused, but when you have gone through something as traumatic as rape or sexual assault there really are things that can be triggering. What I mean by triggering is that it provokes an extreme negative feelings. If I have been triggered through the day then I will more than likely have a flashback in the night, in fact just writing this blog slowly, bit by bit has caused me to have more flashbacks. I am sitting here in my kitchen writing this and having feelings of loss, shame, disgust and worthlessness. Logically I am in a place now where I can rationalise that I am none of those things, but the feelings are so ingrained and so powerful that despite my logic and the logic of people close to me I still feel it.

I can be triggered by reading about rape and sexual assault, seeing films, images … I have to be very careful what I expose myself to. Some days I can handle it a bit better than others. It depends on my mental state how much such things trigger me.

Fact 6. Flashbacks

Many people who have been raped/sexually abused will complain of having flashbacks. I have flashbacks. For me they present as nightmares, but unlike other dreams that are abstract and vague, these flashback nightmares are almost exactly the same as my memory of what happened. I often wake up screaming in the night thinking that I’m being hurt again. If someone is with me I can calm down, but if I’m alone I feel very afraid, with a ton of adrenaline running through my body and my heart pounding. Sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe properly and that I’m going to die or I’m being choked. My psychiatrist has recently prescribed me some diazepam for nights I can’t settle. Talking to the therapist in hospital about the details of the abuse has meant that whereas I used to have flashbacks a few times a year, I am now getting them a few times a week. On one particular night when Howard stayed over I had about ten in a row. I would wake up frightened and panicking and then go back to sleep, only when I fell asleep it would start again and I would wake up, rinse and repeat. On nights like this some diazepam might help.

For those who really struggle with flashbacks constantly in the night there is a medication available that really helps to stop them. For the moment I’m waiting to see what happens and not pushing for extra meds just yet. I have a feeling now the therapy is over they will settle back down. I’ll evaluate in six months. The diazepam might be enough, even knowing it’s there if I need it somehow helps.

Fact 7. Stolen innocence

One of the things I have heard around child sexual abuse and rape is the idea that the perpetrator “stole the child’s innocence”. Let me make one thing clear. Children are always innocent. I was innocent and even if they have been raped and abused multiple times, even with multiple abusers the child does not lose their innocence.

The whole idea of virginity really gets to me. I remember being a 17-year-old teenage girl and having my first boyfriend. For the first time ever I was enjoying my sexuality and exploring. When people found out that I was fooling around with him (not even full sex) I would get lectures about how I should keep my virginity for the right man/marriage, that I didn’t want to “lose my innocence or purity”. Imagine how that made me feel at the time! It made me feel sick to my stomach because in the conventional sense my “virginity” was taken long ago and not by choice. It made me feel even more tainted and dirty. As an adult I feel awful when people talk about losing their virginity because I never got the chance to choose my first experience and my first experiences were just ones of fear and confusion. I like to think that my experiences with my first ever boyfriend at 17, when I was sexual for the fist time through choice, was my awakening into womanhood and sexuality. The thing is, the concept of virginity is flawed. All it is, is experiencing something new for the first time – no different from riding a bike for the first time, or kissing someone for the first time or having pizza for the first time. The pressure around virginity is ridiculous and for a long time the idea that my innocence and purity had been stolen from me really disturbed me. I felt I was lacking something that other girls had, that it made me unworthy of love. What happened to me was wrong but it did not lower my value as a person. The only people that are tainted by rape and child abuse are the perpetrators themselves.

Fact 8. It is very difficult to tell people that you were raped/abused and even harder to report it

I kept my secret for a long time. When I was 17 I told someone (my boyfriend at the time) that something had happened. I kept it vague and I really played it down. I told him out of necessity because sometimes the sexual things we were exploring in a healthy and consensual way were triggering me and causing me to get upset and he needed to understand why. He never pushed me for details and I never told him who my abuser was. In my twenties I told some people close to me what had happened and got some negative reactions of people not believing me or just cutting off contact. It’s only really Howard who knows almost all of the story. It’s very hard for me to talk about this so publicly on my blog. I still feel so much shame, I’m aware though that by talking about it in an open and honest way it might help someone else that’s gone through it. I am finally starting to learn that the shame doesn’t belong to me, that I have nothing to feel ashamed of, it might just take a while for my heart to catch up with my brain.

When I was in hospital for five months and undergoing psychotherapy the subject of reporting my abuser came up. For the first time ever I seriously considered it. I looked into it though and I realised that unless someone else came forward then it would be my word against his and I’d likely go through the ordeal of reporting it without him being found guilty. They would rip into me, bringing up my mental health, past sexual behaviours, anything they could use against me would be used. I’m not strong enough for that, when the chance of getting a conviction is small. I would also have to tell every single detail to strangers. My entire family would learn the details of what actually happened and I’m not able to cope with that, not without becoming seriously mentally ill again. Also my abuser puts on a very happy, normal front to the world. There will be people who take his side against mine. It’s not something I’d say I would never do. If someone else came forward I’d certainly back them up, but now is not the right time for me to be making this kind of move, not when I’ve only just gotten reasonably well from a mental illness that has plagued me for ten years.

Sexual assault and rape are one of the hardest things to go through and overcome. It’s taken me 15 years to slowly begin to heal and stop blaming myself. I still need Howard to remind me that it wasn’t something I brought on myself. I still think about it and think, was I abnormal? Did I want it somehow? Does it make me dirty, spoiled, ruined, impure, disgusting? I still get times when I feel disgusting, like there is something dirty on or in my body that I need to get rid of. That being said there are more frequent times when I feel strong, proud that I survived that and that I’m still able to have normal functional relationships. There are more moments now when I think that it wasn’t my fault, that the shame isn’t mine to bear, and that I can move on with my life and heal.

I will be happy to talk to anyone who reads this who has experienced these types of things and wants to talk. Writing this has been scary but empowering. I am still very nervous of people’s reactions. As always any and all feedback is welcome, and I am happy to answer any questions.

Ten things I love after coming out the mental hospital

I wanted to write a more lighthearted blog, I feel my last one was a bit too serious (not many people wanted to read it!) I thought I’d write something a bit more personal – something not just about mental health but about me as a person and about where my life is now and where it might head. Also I wanted to discuss other aspects of my life, like polyamory (I’ve been polyamorous for 14 years!) So I’ll list ten things that are better since leaving hospital.

1. My depression has gone!

I have been depressed off and on since my late teens. However this particular bout of depression was particularly severe. I sometimes could put a face on and carry on like I was okay even if on the inside I basically felt dead, but the longer that went on, the harder and harder it became to “fake it till I make it”, and I started spending days in bed, feeling so disgusting inside that I genuinely felt the only way to free myself was to die. I seriously wanted to die: I planned it. I took an overdose (it didn’t work) so I planned to hang myself. I was prepared to go through the gruesomeness of hanging to achieve death, as I believed that nothing could feel worse than the depression. When I died I hoped I just wouldn’t exist anymore because existing felt too painful. The only reason that didn’t happen was because Howard stopped me, got me help and I was sectioned.

Now six months on I feel free. I am so very glad that he helped me. I was furious to be sectioned but it literally saved my life. That’s what sectioning is meant to do. There is not a moment that goes by that I don’t remember that I’m not depressed. I feel it’s important to fully comprehend that people who have serious mental illness are at risk of dying when their illness is at its most severe. When anyone with that kind of life-threatening illness recovers, they appreciate life in a new way. You never forget that you’ve been so unwell and you never take for granted the feeling of good health. Also you live in fear of it returning. If I feel even a little bit sad for a few moments I think “shit, it’s coming back” and it really panics me. It’s been 44 days that my mood has been stable; I fill in a mood chart so I can see how things are day to day. I don’t know how long it will last; in the past ten years I really haven’t ever felt this well. I hope it will last a long time but I’m making the most of every moment. I’m honestly not sure I could survive another bout of depression as severe and as long-lasting as that.

2. I’m seeing my partner (Howard) more

Without going into too much detail about Howard’s private situation, there were lots of changes for him when I was in hospital. It’s worked out that he now has more time for me. I adore Howard. I think that anyone who knows us will see that clearly. I have never in my life met a person that is so kind to me. He’s done things for me that I never imagined another human would ever do. For example when I was in hospital he visited me almost every day for the full five months. When he was tired and needed a break, he would only take one when he was able to arrange another visitor, making sure that I was never without a visitor even though I never asked this of him. As a result there was not a single day that I went without a visitor. I remember one time he told me that seeing me there was the highlight of his day, which kind of got through the depression and made me feel loved. Now I get way more overnight visits with him and see him a lot more than I used to.

The extra overnight stays are the best. I love going to bed with him and waking up with him in the morning. I love visiting him and being around him. Everything about him makes me happy. When he’s with me, I get a sense of calm in his presence that I’ve never had before. It feels like I’m home. I don’t want this to change back; I want to continue seeing him as often as I do now. I have never felt so happy and in love and I’ve never fully trusted someone to always have my best interests at heart. In the past my trust has always been broken.

3. Less anxiety

One of the things that I suffered from terribly over the past ten years is pretty extreme anxiety. I chart my anxiety out of ten, with zero being none at all and ten being that I’m so anxious I am at the point of vomiting. I regularly (once or twice a week) vomited from anxiety. Before I went into hospital it was daily. I never imagined my anxiety would ever be under control. However, on my new meds regime where I’m able to take a high dose of amitriptyline, my anxiety is under control for the first time in years. It’s so good to just relax! I have days where I get a bit anxious but usually it’s on the lower end of the scale and I now get times when I’m not anxious at all. So my anxiety is a zero on my chart. In the past this just never happened. It’s a very freeing feeling to not have that gut-churning anxiety all time time. I can be more social without freaking out beforehand that everyone hates me, and I’m not constantly worrying like I used to any more. In fact even though I do care what people think, it’s nowhere near as much as I used to!

4. Not sleeping all the time

This is huge for me, because for the past ten years I have slept so much. In my old routine I would go to bed by 10pm, sometimes much earlier, and regardless of how early I went to bed I would regularly not wake up until 11am or 12pm or even later. It wasn’t unheard of for me to sleep until 2pm. I was taking a drug called chlorpromazine and it was making me very, very drowsy. The sleepiness I felt invaded every part of my life. Mornings were lost because even when I did get up earlier I was thinking through a thick fog. I often woke up depressed, likely due to oversleeping and the drug itself. I could never plan a morning activity because I was always unconscious in the morning and it was so unpleasant to wake up early that I just refused to do anything before 12pm, and even 12pm was early.

So why did I continue to take chlorpromazine despite that horrible side effect? The answer is, I cannot sleep without night-time sedation. If I go even a couple of nights without sleep I get manic. My mania is severe and life threatening, therefore I had to take something to make me sleep. The only thing offered to me was chlorpromazine. I tried to take the smallest dose I could but I regularly needed doses of up to 200mgs per night. Chlorpromazine also dulls down all of your emotions so for me everything was muted, especially early in the day. I’d been on it so long that I’d forgotten what life was like without it. In hospital they started giving me amitriptyline which is sedating itself. That meant that once I got up to a higher dose I was able to drop the chlorpromazine, which was such a huge relief; amitriptyline makes me very sleepy a couple of hours after I take it in the evening, and it guarantees me a good sleep, but by morning I feel refreshed and awake and don’t have that horrible hangover effect. I now set an alarm for 8 every morning and aim to be up by 8.30 to start my routine. At the weekend I let myself have until about 9.30. It’s so lovely to get my mornings back, to have a proper length of day, to just feel refreshed after sleep and alive instead of constantly sluggish. I love it when my partners Isaac or Howard stay over and I can wake up with them in the morning, have breakfast and say goodbye to them if they are leaving for work. I’m being very careful not to get into a bad habit of sleeping late everyday now.

5. Isaac

I think people might believe I don’t really love Isaac; I admit that I tend to talk about Howard more just because he’s my longest-standing partner and I have more commitments with him, but Isaac is adorable and funny and kind, and I love him in a very unique way. The days I spend with him and the adventures we go on are always fun and carefree. He is like a tonic to the other serious things I have going on. It’s no secret that after 14 years I don’t want to be polyamorous anymore. The only reason I continue to do polyamory at all is Isaac. I cannot give him up. I love him too much and I enjoy being around him. He was also a huge support when I was in hospital, often taking me out for a few hours and frequently in the car going to see the dogs and hanging out with them in the field near the kennels. We had lots of fun there even though I was often desperately unwell. Isaac can get through my sadness and depression and make me laugh in a way that nobody else can. I need that in my life. Because I don’t have as many commitments with Isaac, it means I’m with him just for the sheer joy of being with him. He has two beautiful children and I feel honoured to be a part of their lives too. I have no idea what will happen in the future in a romantic/sexual way but I do hope that even if one day we break up again we can still stay close friends. What’s even nicer is the rivalry that existed between Howard and Isaac seems to be over. They seem more content with my being with the other and less afraid. I think they both know that they bring different things to my life and that that’s okay. Now I just need to convince them to hang out more so I get to enjoy being with them both in the same place!

6. Being productive

I have been so unproductive the last few years. Even when I thought I wasn’t clinically depressed my mood was often still very low. I remember when people would ask me if my mood was normal I’d say yes, but really it was only a 3 or 4 (5 is normal). 3 or 4 was literally the best it ever got and as it wasn’t as bad as 1 or 2 I just thought that was acceptable and normal, and even I had forgotten what normal was. I never got a long run at being okay; my mood was always on the way up or on the way down. I spent so much time in bed that nothing got done. I remember wanting to go to the outpatient pottery class at the hospital and being unable to because it was in the morning and mornings were something I just couldn’t do. Now I am regularly going to the Monday morning class which starts at 10.30, I’m out the door by 9.15! Seeing friends was a struggle, taking the dogs on a longer walk was a huge effort, I just had no energy. Housework never got done, washing was left until it overwhelmed me. Dishes would pile up, everything was cluttered and stressful. I had really let things get on top of me. Now I’m up early I can do a morning dog walk and be home before lunch. My personal hygiene is better. I put nice clothes on, I wear my makeup and other things that make me feel good about myself! I’m making more effort around the flat and I’m interested in making it a nicer environment for myself. I just feel like I have motivation for the first time in years. I’m enjoying being productive, I want to be productive. I’m not just sleeping my life away or lying in bed staring at the wall for hours. This is probably one of the most important things that has improved and I didn’t even realise that my lack of motivation was part of my mental illness. I genuinely thought I was just lazy and useless.

7. I can feel feelings again!

When other people talk to me about depression they often say they feel sad, or they feel empty or hurt or unhappy. When I feel depressed I feel dead. It’s hard for me to feel anything. The only words I can use to describe how I feel is ‘disgusting’, ‘sluggish’ and ‘muted’. My emotions are very dulled down. This might have been partly down to my medication regime too (chlorpromazine). I did feel love, or at least I knew I loved Howard and I loved Isaac but I couldn’t fully feel it, not in my bones, the way love should feel. Nothing made me happy, nothing made me sad, it was just this dreadful nothingness. I think the only time I could feel anything at all was when I was in physical pain. I could feel that, and it was real and sometimes I would enjoy it when my endometriosis would flare up because then at least I felt something. This is also why in the past I have self harmed though I haven’t done that for years.

Now I feel everything and it’s with such powerful intensity. It’s like the shell has crumbled and underneath everything is red raw. The love I feel for Howard is overpowering. It’s frightening, to actually feel like that about another human being who could possibly hurt me. I care what happens to me. I don’t want to die. Let me say that again. I. Don’t. Want. To. Die …

I’ve spent so many years wishing for death because I couldn’t stand the disgusting, sluggish, dead feeling I constantly felt. It was literally torture. People don’t understand. How can someone commit suicide? Don’t they care about their loved ones and responsibilities they leave behind? I believed everyone would be better off without me. Towards April when I was sectioned, even my dogs. I thought life was absolutely 100 percent not worth living. That I’d rather go through the gruesome process of hanging myself than go on another day. I actually wanted to die in a horrible way because I wanted to feel something/anything before I went. How I never came to any harm is partially down to luck, and partially down to Howard taking me in when he did. I am 100 percent in love with life just now. Everytime I feel an emotion I haven’t felt in a long time it’s like feeling it for the first time again. I feel like I’ve woken up from a nightmare and reclaimed myself.

8. My flat is a lot nicer

My flat has been in a terrible state for literally years, in fact ten-plus years! I was in the horrible situation of owning the flat with my ex and being unable to get his name off my mortgage because I live on benefits, and therefore they wouldn’t give me a mortgage on my own, even though I was clearly making the repayments! As a result of this I was never able to raise the money through remortgaging, and I wasn’t able to get Chris removed from the mortgage despite the fact that he abandoned the flat many years ago and had hardly paid a penny towards it. Howard sorted this out by taking on half ownership himself. I want to stress this is an extremely kind thing for him to do. I’m overwhelmed with gratitude and I have a feeling of security that I now have a co-owner that I can trust. Not only did he do that but he sorted out all the paperwork and worked very hard to make it happen. It took a year! Chris (my ex) was made it really hard by refusing to sign the paperwork. Now finally for the first time ever I am in a position to actually sort my flat out.

Since going into hospital Howard arranged for all the work that needed to be done. This was a lot of work for him. In my depressed state I wasn’t even able to give him any input. I didn’t even care that much what happened or how it looked. Howard encouraged me to pick colours and other such things which I did but I never really believed it would happen.

Now I have a new boiler, new radiators, new flooring in the living room and hallway, new windows and a new bathroom, and now I am out of hospital the kitchen is in the process of being done! Eventually we will decorate the rooms and I’ll have a nice home to be in that I love and that’s not a nightmare. I can wake up in the morning and take a shower in my nice new clean bathroom. My old bathroom didn’t have a shower and I had to take baths that took ages to fill because of the failing boiler. Now I wake up in the morning and hop straight into my nice hot shower and feel clean. I haven’t had a working oven for nine years and my hob barely works. Once the kitchen is finished I’ll have a really decent oven and cooker. I’ll even have a dishwasher (luxury)! It’s going to be amazing. I’m eternally grateful to Howard for his help with all of this. I think it has such an impact on my state of mind to have a nice environment to relax in. It also makes me confident that he is as in love with me as I am with him because it’s such a huge thing that he’s done!

9. Personal hygiene

I feel ashamed to admit this but my personal hygiene hasn’t been good. Depression sucked away any motivation to keep myself clean and tidy. I would regularly go an entire week without washing. If I was staying in bed or not leaving the flat I wouldn’t bother and even if I was going out I wouldn’t bother. I’d even lie to Howard when he’d asked me when was the last time you washed. I’d never say a week ago or more because I knew he’d be appalled. The more depressed I became the worse I got. It was particularly bad when I was in hospital. I remember at the start of my admission in IPCU (intensive psychiatric care unit), I was wearing leggings, a soft dress, a cardigan and socks, basically the clothes I was in when I got sectioned. No bra, no pants. This is disgusting but I was sleeping in my clothes and going about my day on the ward in those clothes. To make matters worse I started my period and I just didn’t bother to sort myself out. I was just bleeding onto my clothes and because they were black nobody noticed. Howard eventually noticed I smelled rotten and I finally showered and changed. The nurses would come into my room and coax me into the shower, remind me to put my pyjamas on at night and day clothes on during the day. I did the bare minimum. I also didn’t brush my teeth for months and now my teeth look a bit more stained than they used to.

Now I shower every day. It’s part of my morning routine. I think having the new shower makes it far more likely that even when down I’ll still wash, because it’s so much easier than running a bath and waiting for it to fill and having to sit in it. Usually I’d sit in it, perhaps wash my hair but then just get out without properly cleaning myself. In the shower it’s far easier to keep clean and I generally like feeling clean now. The idea of going for days without washing seems really yuck! Also I’m brushing my teeth in the morning and night and using mouthwash. Soon I need to finally see a dentist for the first time in over a decade! I’m working myself up to that one.

Lots of things have gotten a lot better since leaving hospital. The biggest change is just how I feel. Depression is crippling. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Nobody really knows how it feels to be that depressed unless they have experienced it themselves. Many people who read this blog will understand. Things can get better though. I genuinely thought that it would just never end. I really believed my only option was to end my life. If Howard hadn’t got me to that appointment with my psychiatrist I could very likely be dead or badly hurt. I am in love with life at the moment. With each passing moment I’m aware that I’m alive and that horrible disgusting, sluggish feeling is finally gone. The only negative is that I am very afraid of it coming back.

10. Reclaiming my sex drive

Some of you might think this is too much information but it’s actually very important. Depression and mental illness can and do frequently have a profound effect on a person’s sex drive. I was still having sex (though not as often) when I was ill because it brought me some comfort but I wasn’t reaching my full potential. It was hard to connect with my partners because I felt so numb. My orgasms weren’t as strong. I hadn’t even noticed that they were weaker than usual because it happened so gradually but since I got well I can see a big difference. I believe the chlorpromazine was dulling down those urges for me and sometimes I would need to push myself to have sex because I knew I’d get some enjoyment out of it once I started, but I just never felt properly in the mood. I’ve known people with depression who have lost their sex drive completely and just stop having sex. This has an impact on relationships. Partners can feel rejected you aren’t getting the bonding that comes with being intimate, this is especially hard-hitting if, like me, you usually have a very active sex life.

Now my sex drive is very high again (which is my normal). I’m enjoying reconnecting with my partners in that way and having very good, intense orgasms that I haven’t felt so powerfully in years. I’ve stopped feeling like I have to force it and when I initiate intimacy I genuinely feel in the mood! As a result I feel more bonded with my partners. It’s not just about the physical pleasure that sex brings (though this is good). It’s also, for me, a way to show and express love.

Some medications can affect sex drive and ability to orgasm. I’ve heard this from many people, especially those on SSRI antidepressants and heavy-duty antipsychotics. I have been in the system long enough to know now that there are solutions to this problem. There are many alternative drugs that can be taken that are just as or more effective in treating depression or psychosis that do not have this effect. They are not routinely prescribed because they are more expensive, but I pushed for my meds to be changed so I didn’t have this side effect, and eventually my doctor and psychiatrist listened.

Feedback

If you like this blog feel free to send me a friend request on Facebook as Jools Christie (but send me a note saying who you are). Also you can follow me on Instagram. I plan to post more photos there under the name little_miss_black_sheep. I feel like I owe it to everyone who is struggling with mental health to spread awareness and knowledge. I know one of the things I really valued when I was unwell was reading other people’s stories of mental illness and recovery. Do I think I have recovered from schizoaffective disorder? No. I will get unwell again in the future. I’m aware of that, and denying it won’t protect me from it happening. At some point I’ll either get manic or depressed. Either way it will mess things up. What I’m hoping for is a long run of stability. I’m aiming for six months to start with, then build on that. I have lots of blogging ideas but suggestions are very welcome. Comments are appreciated either here or on Facebook. Thank you for taking the time to read this.