Now where did that go?

There are many, many items that came in with me on the day of my admission.  A lot of these didn’t make it through the 9 months, for various reasons. Most of which are through self harm incidents but that isn’t what I am going to be commemorating in this post, this is a tribute to some of the items lost in other ways. I hope they rest in peace somewhere in the vortex that is the staff office, or now at home with the wrong patient.

  • Patients would have things we could use in communal areas or under supervision. Once you gave these items back into the office it was a slight raffle as to if you would be seeing them again.. *prays staff member will put item back into the correct named box with other belongings*
  • My converses (still internally crying about this one)
  • countless items of clothing- lost in the great room stripping of 2014
  • Headphones, so many pairs of headphones.
  • My winter coat
  • Toothbrushes, soaps and deodorant…- These ones are pretty essential to daily life so they were replaced pretty fast, even if I did go through the same cycle multiple times.
  • The books that were borrowed but never returned (I’m talking to you, night staff)

All of these material objects are small fry when it comes to the reality of life and death. Thankfully I gained so much more from my admission than I could have ever lost.

Cheers, Tilly.



The face of a warrior


There are a lot of pretty and positive posts that circulate tumblr and instagram which are sometimes not really accurate or fully resemble what it is like to be in recovery from a mental illness. Don’t get me wrong I love these posts, a large portion of my bedroom is covered in quotes and brightly coloured motivational messages. But I thought it would be interesting to share a photo of me after a very difficult evening but managing to keep myself safe and coping without using any negative behaviours at all. This is a recovery moment that I am proud of. It is rough around the edges and very real, it is me with bloodshot and puffy eyes. It can’t be seen through rose coloured glasses and this is good in its own way since I know a lot of other people have had nights like this. Nights that we find ourselves picking up the broken pieces, from a situation that can be hard to explain to those around us in the best of times let alone when distressed. A lot of the times it is easier to explain these kind of nights and find a sense of belonging with others who have been struggling with similar things by sharing a motivational message or quote. I am proud of myself for managing a rough night in the messy, teary and real way that worked for me in that moment. I’m going to continue to keep on keeping on, just watch me fall down seven times and stand up eight because I know that the people who mind don’t matter and the people who matter don’t mind.
Cheers, Tilly