Stay;

*WARNING – this blog contains discussions of Suicide. If this topic triggers you in any way, please reach out and ask for help*

With September 10th being National Suicide Awareness day, I’ve decided to share my story. This one will be the most difficult, as with it I carry my deepest shame. But my hope in sharing, as it has always been, is to raise awareness, to break the stigma and to hopefully inspire others to share their story or to choose to Stay;

For those that aren’t aware, the semi-colon has become a world wide symbol for suicide, depression, mental health and addiction awareness. It is used by authors when they could have chosen to end a sentence, but instead use the semi colon, to continue that sentence.

My story probably starts when I was 10 I guess. That life altering moment that would indescribably change me as a person, right down to my core. (For those that are reading my blog for the first time, I was sexually abused at this age and have written about my recovery in my blog titled Taking my Power Back) It was this event that altered my path. It made me feel ashamed and guilty. It made me see myself as weak and powerless. It completely changed the foundations in which I grew up on.

I learnt back then how to block my emotions. Anything that my subconscious mind thought I couldn’t deal with was blocked and stored away. I didn’t even remember the event until I was about 16 and started having flashbacks. That’s how strong my ability is to block things I can’t cope with. And to this day there’s things I’m still blocking from that time.

Coming into my early 20’s when I started to try and deal with these emotions, I realised I didn’t even have the basics to deal with small emotions, let alone the ones that come up surrounding such a horrific event. I was an emotional wreck. I was depressed. I was out of control. I was drinking constantly to try and numb the pain. My way of blocking these emotions was no longer working and it was all bubbling over and I was powerless to control it.

I hated myself so deeply and so wholly and I felt like I couldn’t escape the pain. When you hit such a low point in your life, you’re surrounded in it. It completely takes over. It doesn’t just come and go. All day. All night it hits you over and over. It’s utterly relentless. It wears you down. I was too afraid to sleep because of the nightmares. Which left me completely neurotic during the day and always angry and on edge. I felt like I was on high alert to my surroundings and loud noises would make me jump and terrify me. If anyone tried to touch me it made my skin crawl and I wanted to throw up. I felt like people were staring at me, like somehow they knew my dirty secrets that I’d buried. And I truly felt that it would never end. It slowly built up over years and only ever got worse over time.

What follows next I’m not going to go into too much detail as I don’t think it’s necessary to get my story across. But it starts with thoughts of just wanting to take the pain away and thoughts of honestly believing that everyone in your life would be better off without you. And for me on more than one occasion, it’s ended with an attempt to take my life. On many more occasions it’s ended with me having these feelings, but choosing to Stay;

It’s hard for me to even describe what that feels like. To be so depressed and so low that you think the world would be better without you. Sitting here now with rational and logical thoughts, it makes no sense what so ever. I know how devastated my family and friends would be. But I can say hand on heart, that when I’m in that dark place, there is no one that could convince me that me leaving, would have anything other than a positive impact on them.

I know that people who haven’t felt this darkness, struggle to understand these thought patterns. I get it. If I hadn’t experienced it myself, I admit I would find it difficult too. However I beg of everyone reading this, if you can’t understand it please at least don’t pass judgement on it. Don’t judge someone for something you don’t understand. This is where the stigma and the shame comes from. Because people say it’s selfish and stupid to think like that. I can’t comment on what others feel, but with me I felt at the time that it would be the most selfless thing for me to do. To rid myself from everyone I care about so they don’t have to deal with me anymore. I truly cannot see the horrific impact it would cause when I’m in that darkness.

I feel that these judgements cause fear in people that are struggling. It makes it harder to reach out as people are scared that if they admit they are struggling and having dark thoughts, that they will be judged and criticised. They think they will be looked at as being weak or that they have something wrong with them.

We need to drop this stigma. We need to stop the judgement and criticism. We need to step up and speak out and spread the word that it’s OK to not be OK. It’s ok to struggle sometimes and feel like the world is caving in on you.

I truly hope that me speaking out can show a tiny part of my world that it’s OK to feel so shitty sometimes that you can barely breathe. And that it doesn’t make you a lesser person when you’re finding it hard to cope with life. I hope that by me choosing to stay; and writing these words, that I can help even just one person make that same choice. I hope that I can inspire others to share their stories. I hope that those that have in the past chosen to pass judgement on suicide and mental health, can maybe see it in a different light and show compassion to those in need. I hope that this message shows people that there is strength in choosing to keep fighting those battles inside their minds. I hope that by sharing this it can lessen someone’s shame that they carry from their story.

The one thing that really shines through for me when writing this is the hope I feel. Because it takes a whole lot of strength and a whole lot of guts to fight your way out of feeling utterly hopeless, and to change that to feeling to one of hope.

And my biggest hope, is that everyone finds their way and chooses to STAY;

When grief rears it’s ugly head.

I thought I had it under control. I thought I had passed the worst of it. I thought I had dealt with it enough for it to stay hidden. I thought I had pushed it far enough down that I wouldn’t have to face it again.

I was wrong.

It’s been 13 months since my last miscarriage. I’m not sure if making it through the year anniversary of the date we lost the baby, or the year anniversary only a month before that from the 2nd miscarriage; is the cause of this grief popping up. Or if it’s the fact that I’ve been starting to have thoughts that maybe my journey to have another baby isn’t actually over yet. My therapist thinks that now I’m in a really healthy place in my life and things are going well, my subconscious has gone “OK she’s ready to deal with this now” and has bought it to the surface again. I guess that does make sense as I know I have this innate ability to block things that I’m not ready to deal with yet.

Whatever the reasoning behind it doesn’t actually matter I guess, because it’s hit me full force and I feel like I’m right back at the start again. And I’ve been through it three times now so I know I can do it again. But what I’m struggling with right now, is that I just don’t want to.

I don’t want to feel the loss anymore. I don’t want to experience the ache in my heart when I see a pregnant woman. I don’t want the agony of the flashbacks to my time in hospital. I don’t want the crippling pain of all the what if questions that come to the surface. I don’t want the bad dreams that make me not want to sleep.

I just don’t want to deal with it. The grief is too intense. The pain is still too real. And all I can sit here and do is cry and beg to have my babies back. I sit here and wonder if they were girls or boys. If they would have looked like me or their big sister. I sit here and ache to hold them just once and look into their eyes. To breath them in and feel their tiny hearts beating.

There is literally nothing I or anyone else can do to make it easier or to take the pain away. It’s something I just have to sit through and allow myself to go through each agonising process, step by step.

Because it hits me at random moments (like at work and I end up sitting in the bathroom crying into toilet paper and trying to keep my sobbing to a minimum), my therapist has suggested I allocate “grief time.” To actually designate time to sit and think about it and allow myself to cry. It kind of sounds weird I guess but it makes sense. That way I’m allowing myself to experience the emotions in a controlled environment and I’m getting the emotional release that I need so it doesn’t build up and release itself at inopportune moments. This way I can attempt to have some kind of control over it and when it bubbles up when I can’t actually deal with it, to kindly say to myself “It’s ok that you’re feeling upset, however now is not the time and you will have your time later.” It kind of sound clinical but I like it. I feel that I would rather control it than be an inconsolable mess at inappropriate moments.

She has also suggested I create a memory box so that I can hold the special things from that time and allow myself to remember the beautiful memories of when I was pregnant. I do have things hidden away that I couldn’t face looking at, but the idea of putting them in a special box and honouring their memory instead of hiding them, sounds nice. It even allows me to feel a little bit of peace about it all.

So many people have told me that you never get over it, you just learn to live with it. And I’m starting to see that this is so true. I think I have been fighting it and trying to “get over it” so I didn’t have to ever face it again. But I’m realising now that that isn’t possible. This is something that will live within me for the rest of my life. Nothing will ever make it better. Nothing will ever fill that void or make the feeling of loss go away. It’s a matter of finding my way of coping day by day so that over time it eventually gets that little bit easier and isn’t so crippling when it hits you.

Grief is one nasty and sneaky bitch that hits you when you least expect it. I’m hoping I can find a way to manage it a little better and cope with it in my own way again, rather than having it control me.

And I hope one day I can find a way to stop wishing things turned out differently so I can finally accept what happened and stop hating life for taking my precious babies away.

The day it all fell into place

So I completed the half marathon. It wasn’t pretty. It was one of the worst runs of my life actually; but crossing that line made everything else that I had been working on, click into place.

For those that are just discovering my blog, here’s a bit of a back story behind why I set this goal, and also why I started my blog. I hit the lowest and darkest point in my life after 3 miscarriages and my partner at the time walking out on me and taking our daughter. Everything that I loved in my life, I lost. I felt like my life as I knew it, was over.

It was at this point where I felt this burning desire inside me to run. I used to be a runner and had let myself go and wasn’t exercising at all. I set myself the goal of doing the Gold Coast half marathon. That was 10 months away and my first “training” session was a 10 minute walk that almost resulted in a panic attack and needing to get back into the house as soon as possible.

Fast forward 10 months. I’d run over 700 kilometers in training sessions. I’d had shitty news from my Physio only a month out from race day that I had a tear in my glute and needed 6 weeks rest, and the week leading up to the race I had a huge emotional break down. But one thing that didn’t happen, is that I never gave up. Not once did it cross my mind to not be on that starting line and give it my all. Not once did I lose track of my goals. I certainly had to adjust them a few times to accommodate a few road blocks, but I was always going to do whatever it took to cross that line.

Because it had been a gruelling journey just to get to the start line, the week leading up to the race was always going to be emotional. I thought it was bad at the start of the week when fear and self doubt set in, but the worst happened when I started to look at the positives of how far I had come. I was so over come with pride, it was over whelming. Only 3 days before the race, I tried to go for a 45 minute run; I lasted 4 minutes before literally having a break down on the side of the road.

Things weren’t looking pretty, but I knew it was coming. I knew that the last week was always going to be tough and that it would bring up a huge amount of emotions that needed to be released.

By Saturday I was feeling good. I was ready. I had a few moments of panic over stupid things that really didn’t matter, like the fact it was raining and I was worried that I wouldn’t be warm enough wearing just a sports bra and I should rush out and buy a singlet. As if that was going to make a difference. But I could step back and recognise that this was just nerves, and I’ve always seen having nerves as a good thing. It means you care about what is going to happen.

I woke up Sunday morning, everything went smoothly. Getting dressed and putting my racing bib on I felt calm and focused. I got dropped off about 1 kilometer from the starting point and did a slow jog to warm up. I felt strong and mentally ready.

Waiting around for an hour before the race actually begins is tough. The atmosphere is bouncing with nerves and excitement and it’s hard to not lose a lot of energy getting wrapped up in it. There was a few moments of thinking “I should have done this or that.” “Why didn’t I train this way instead of that way.” Panic and fear that tries to steal your thunder. But standing in the crowd ready to run, I remember taking a deep breath and thinking “You’re ready. You’ve done everything you possibly could. Enjoy the moment, it’s yours.” I felt a huge sense of relief and clarity. I knew in that moment, that I had come to a full acceptance that whatever happened after that gun went off, that I was proud of what I had already achieved.

I started off at a blistering pace. I hate starting off fast but again it’s hard to not get wrapped up in the energy around you. The first 13 kilometers I was sitting around the 4:30 – 4:40 pace so I was 100% confident that I was going to absolutely smash my goal of sub 1 hour 45 minutes. Then things started to go wrong. I had felt a tiny niggle around my hip at the 9 km mark but it went away so I ignored it. At 13 km the pain started. It was a deep throbbing pain that started in the one area where my injury was, and slowly started to spread across my back and down my right leg.

My physio had told me that if I can run through the throbbing pain then that was ok, but if I felt any sharp, stinging pains I was to pull out immediately. Panic set in big time. I knew there was still a long 8 km to go and with every step the pain was spreading.

At 15km I stopped to spew. I’d had a full protein shake instead of my normal half because I knew it was such a long wait before the race started – lesson learnt, stick to what you normally do before a race. It probably didn’t help either that I was getting myself into such a high state of panic thinking I wasn’t going to hit my goal time.

By 19 km I had stopped probably 5 times to try and stretch, and had to walk for a few hundred meters. My hip had completely seized up and I was basically dragging my leg and walking sideways. Then the tears started as I looked at my watch and saw the time click over to 1 hour 45 minutes. I felt like I had failed.

I’m finding it hard to find the words to describe what happened over the next few minutes. It felt like hours were passing. I was at a cross roads. Do I walk away? Do I keep pushing?

There was a million thoughts racing through my head and all I wanted to do was scream at them to shut up. I just wanted a moments peace. I just wanted the pain to stop. I just wanted it all to be over.

It was having that last thought that clicked me back into gear. I had worked tirelessly for 10 months to get to this point and in 2 short kilometres, it would be over and this was my moment to reap the rewards for all that hard work. I started a slow jog again and started to take in the crowds. The last kilometer the streets are lined with supporters and the atmosphere is amazing and something that words could never describe.

By this stage the pain was so intense it was taking my breath away and the tears were flowing freely. I was doing a weird shuffle run and my leg kept giving out on me. The crowd picked up on this and suddenly I was hearing constant shouts of “come on Jess you’ve got this, don’t give up.” It was incredibly overwhelming and humbling and an experience that I’ll never forget.

As I turned the last corner I saw the finish line and panicked a bit as I thought I’d missed seeing my family. Then I heard my Mum scream “Go Jessica.” I turned and saw them and felt the most immense amount of pride and accomplishment. I waved my hands and gave them a fist pump. Then I focused on the finish line and crossed in 2 hours and 1 minute.

This was it. I’d done it. I’d battled the most horrific traumas and overcome so many bumps in the road and I never gave up. The last 10 meters I kissed my neck lace that Mum gave me after my first miscarriage. I looked at the sky and thought about my 3 angel babies that I lost and I cried. Oh man did I cry. As I crossed the line it all came out. My legs finally gave way as well and I hit the deck. I don’t know how long I sat on the ground and cried but it felt like an eternity. The emotional release was intense and all part of the process.

I finally stood up and started taking it all in. It was breath taking. The other runners were a mix of pure raw emotion like myself, and also crazy with excitement and sense of achievement.

Seeing my niece and daughter coming up to me was another huge moment. I grabbed them for dear life and cried again so with so much pride. Lexi is only 3 so she really didn’t understand what was going on, but I remember crouching down and holding her at arms length and I could tell in her eyes that she knew this moment was huge but that she didn’t fully comprehend what was happening. She was fascinated with my medal and wanted to wear it which again made my heart bust with pride.

It’s been 4 days since the race as I sit here and write this and I still don’t think I’ve fully processed it all.

I look at the person I was when I started this journey and I barely recognise her. I’ve spent endless hours in therapy working through everything I have spent 35 years bottling up. I’ve looked deep within myself to find out who I really am and who I want to be. I’ve embraced what I used to see as flaws within myself and now see them as parts of me that I love. I’ve accepted who I am and have grown to love this person.

Moving forward I know my journey isn’t over. I will continue to grow and learn more about myself. I will have bad days and relapses into bad habits that I used to have. But I now know that I can handle whatever life throws at me and that is an empowering feeling.

So while I completed the half marathon in probably the ugliest way possible, all that matters is that I crossed that line and achieved my goal. And the most incredible part of it all, was the journey I took to get there. The transformations I made to grow and heal myself. The person I discovered inside myself that I had been hiding all these years. The friendships I’ve made since starting my blog and sharing my story. It’s all of those things that matter most, not the actual run.

The journey of 21.1 kilometers will last a lifetime and I will always look back on that moment as one of the greatest achievements of my life.

The end….and the beginning

So I started this blog 4 months ago and this will be my 24th publication. I began writing as a form of therapy to help release some of the shit I was struggling to deal with, and publishing these thoughts turned into a different type of therapy in itself.

I’ve not only discovered so much about myself along this journey, but so much about those in my life and also total strangers that have reached out who have been touched by my words. It’s been such an eye-opening and utterly amazing experience that I will look back on and remember for the rest of my life.

I’m honored and also shocked to say that out of the thousands of comments I have received, not one has been negative in any way. My biggest fear in releasing such personal information and admitting to my deepest struggles, is that I would receive negative feedback from trolls and or people who just didn’t have anything better to do than to try and tear someone down in their moments of need.

Every comment has been filled with encouragement, support and an outpouring of love. I’m still blown away by the kind and heartfelt words people have taken the time to send me. I’m still speechless by the stories that people have shared with me about their struggles and how my words gave them the courage to step up and make changes for themselves and to face their fears.

I can’t begin to describe how much this means to me. I’ve been through the worst 2 years of my life and faced things I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I’ve allowed myself to be raw, vulnerable, brutally honest and sometimes pretty blunt. I sometimes felt so alone and lost that I thought I’d never make it out the other side.

But I did make it. And to the thousands of people that have come along this journey with me and left words of support, I could never find the words to thank you or to show just how much I’ve been touched by you. I sit here racking my brain for a way to describe it, but nothing works. No words seem good enough. All I can say, is from the bottom of my heart I thank you and I will never forget your kindness.

I’ve written in past blogs that as I go through this journey, I find old ways of getting me through are no longer working for me and I have to rediscover something different. This is one of these moments. And unfortunately, writing these blogs just aren’t giving me therapy they used to. I’m struggling to find the words that used to come freely. I’m finding that due to the enormous changes I’ve made and the new techniques I’ve found to deal with my emotions, I no longer need to write so much down. I have found a way to deal with these things in a much healthier way so that they don’t get on top of me to the point in which I need to write to release all the emotions that come with the struggles.

I’m by no means at the end of my journey or self-discovery. But I have reached a point in which I feel comfortable tackling things before I get so overwhelmed like I used to. I still have little relapses where I fall into negative thinking patterns or get overwhelmed by the smaller things in life that shouldn’t bother me so much; but the difference now is that rather than falling into a rut of being anxious and over emotional for weeks, I can now face the issues that triggered me and lift myself up within hours or a day at the most.

I can take a step back and recognise why I’m reacting a certain way to something that triggered me. I can sit with the discomfort or pain and allow myself to feel it so I can then move forward and heal from it, rather than fighting it and then having it completely take me over.

This shows just how much growth I’ve made over this journey and all I can do is sit here and smile (with tears in my eyes). I look back at the broken form that I was when I started this and I just want to hug her for being so brave in finally facing her demons. For finally stepping up and asking for help. For finally having the courage to take her power back from the abuse she went through 25 years ago. For finally admitting she wasn’t living life on her terms, but was living to please others.

I will never forget my struggles or the journey I’ve been on, but my focus now is solely on looking forward, not backward. The hardest part to begin with was that I had to look so far back to face the trauma’s that had affected me, in order to deal with them and heal from them. Now the hardest part is trusting in myself and knowing that I have done the hard work properly this time, rather than skipping through it and getting hit with it all over again in a few years time. Deep down I know I have and I tell myself this whenever the fear sets in.

So moving forward to the next stage in my life is all about helping others to get through their journey’s. Having so many people reach out to me and share their pain and difficulties and confide in me that my words helped them, was so humbling. It made me feel like I was finally making a difference in the world, one tiny step at a time. I want to do more of this. I’m not sure what that looks like at the moment or how I’m going to make it happen, but I know that I feel a stirring in my gut to make a difference and I’ll do whatever I need to in order to do it.

I know I’ll probably still feel the need to release emotional baggage from time to time so I will occasionally add to this blog. I just won’t be doing it on a regular basis anymore.

I’m also turning my words into a book. My goal is to delve deeper into these blogs and really discover the fundamentals of what caused me to end up the way I was. And to also share on a deeper level, the techniques I used to get through and pull myself out of hitting rockbottom.

Once again I can’t thank you all enough for the support and love you have shown me. I can’t wait to share my book with you!

For those that have reached out to me to share your stories or for guidance, please don’t hesitate to continue doing so. I’m always available to chat and I’m great at listening.

And as this part of my journey comes to an end, the beginning of another is just getting started and I’m so excited to see where it takes me.

So much love to you all xoxo

Conquering my mountain

After 8 long and tortuous months of what felt like hell every day, I feel like I’ve finally gone through the worst of it. Finally reached the summit of the mountain I’ve been climbing on this journey.

I was broken as a human being. An empty shell. I was shattered to my core and I honestly spent a long time thinking rock bottom was where my life was going to be from that point onwards.

So many people told me it would get easier. That things would finally get better. But I didn’t believe them for a second. Things just always seemed to get worse. Every day was a battle in which I kept getting hit from every direction. It was relentless.

When everything you’ve ever wanted in life gets taken away from you, it destroys your soul. Your purpose for getting up each day and even managing the basic tasks in life seem too much and are overwhelming.

I truly felt that this feeling of hopeless and despair would never leave me.

But slowly and surely, it has. Step by step I’ve bought the light back into my life. I’ve built myself back up from the roots of my core to find a whole new person that has been hiding my entire life.

I’ve discovered me. The real me. Not the front that I’ve always put on. Not the image of who I thought I was expected to be. My masks are gone. My walls are down.

It wasn’t until I walked back into my new/old job a few weeks ago, that I realised just how much I have actually changed. I worked there about 18 months ago when the beginning of this downhill slide of my life started, and walking back in was pretty confronting.

I was terrified of slipping back into the same old patterns I had when I was there last. Of hiding who I was. Of having my defensive walls set firmly in place and not allowing many people to get close to me.

I’ve been walking around thinking how different everyone is this time. Everyone seems more open and friendly.

The harsh truth that I had to face. Was that no one there has changed. They’ve always been open and friendly. It was me that was different. I’ve changed.

I used to walk around with this massive defensive wall up. I was so full of shame and my confidence was so low, that I would walk around with my head down, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. My life was falling apart so I didn’t want to talk about it with anyone. I didn’t want to share any of the shitty things I was going through. I was hurting inside. I was breaking. I was fucking angry to be honest.

I’m ashamed to think of the person I used to be. Work colleagues would try to interact with me and I’d give nothing in return. They probably had the impression I was a grumpy bitch. And I guess I kinda was back then. I’ve been trying to not think about how I was back then as it’s embarrassing. But I know there will come a time when I have to own it and accept it for what it was. A coping mechanism.

It was all I could do to get through each day. I was fighting an internal battle that I was loosing control of. I could barely function enough to get through the basics. So when it came to trying to build new relationships in a work environment that I was new to, it was just too much.

I walk into work now and I love it. The work is still the same, but I’m getting to know some amazing people who were always there. I just wouldn’t let them in. It feels like a brand new job. Brand new people. But in reality nothing has changed a bit. Except me.

I’m finding this in so many aspects of my life these days. Because I carry myself differently, I actually walk around with my head up instead of pretending to be looking at something interesting on the ground; I’m finding that I have so many different experiences. I actually interact with people. I don’t hide from small talk. I don’t run away from new experiences.

When I stand back and look at this mountain I’ve climbed, I can’t be anything but proud. I’ve gone from despair and hopelessness, to now feeling nothing but hope and excitement for what the future holds. I feel like I have the strength to stare life in the eyes and say “What’s next bitch?” Because I know that whatever is thrown at me from now on, I can face it head on and tackle it with confidence.

I’ve been through the worst and finally hit the summit of the mountain, and now I get to reap the rewards and experience the absolute joys in life. I now get to see it from a fresh pair of eyes and thrive in this brand new world that I have built from the ground up. Just like climbing an actual mountain, the views up here are endless and the path I take from here is mine to choose.

How the truth can set you free

So I was clearly struggling last week. I had my sad pants on big time and I was in a serious rut. I was feeling so low and wishing things in the past were different and wishing I could go back in time. Feeling so sorry for myself and hating my life.

I had some mixed emotions coming up that were confusing me. I was blaming myself for things that had gone wrong. I had serious self-doubt over a gut feeling I had for the last few years and was thinking maybe I got it all wrong. And I was kicking myself for opening up and being honest and vulnerable.

Today changed it all. Today made me realise that the sick feeling in my stomach about what was really going on, was actually the truth. And the fact I’d been made to feel stupid for questioning these feelings makes it even worse. Today she finally admitted it all.

Deep down in my gut I knew for the last few years what was really going on. But I didn’t trust that feeling enough, nor did I want to believe it. I was getting to the point over the last week where I was actually starting to question my sanity. Thinking that I had imagined it all. That I had somehow been disillusioned this whole time and because of this I had messed up big time.

Then the truth came out. The admission that what I had suspected the whole time, was completely and utterly true. Hearing the revelation blew me away and shocked me to my core. It hurt so much that someone could be so heartless and selfish and fucking cruel!

Reality then started setting in. I was right. I wasn’t crazy. I wasn’t delusional. My gut feeling was right all along. I felt an enormous weight start to lift from my shoulders. It’s hard to explain but I finally felt free. I felt liberated from the confession and the realization that I could now let go and move on.

I didn’t realise that that was what had been holding me back. I guess the stubborn side of me wanted to know that I was right. The self conscious side of me needed to know that I wasn’t going crazy. And the heartbroken side of me needed to see the complete truth to allow me to let go and move forward.

I guess I hadn’t pushed too hard to hear the truth as I was terrified of actually hearing those words. But in actual fact, it was the one thing I’ve needed and it has changed my outlook on my entire journey.

Never before have I been taught such a valuable lesson – follow your gut! No matter what. The uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. The hesitation. The feeling of needing to run. The tingling in my hands. The tightness in my throat. These are all things I feel when I’m in a situation where something is wrong and my body is throwing physical signs at me to stop and listen. To stand up and take notice.

It’s frustrating because I know I have always taken notice of these signs at work. Being in law enforcement you get these gut feelings when something isn’t right. And when I feel them in that situation, I’m like a dog with a bone. I don’t let up until I figure out what is going on. What the person is hiding or lying about.

But in my personal life I’ve been pretty sub par at listening to these signs. Utterly useless at it actually. I guess because when it’s happening in a personal situation, you don’t want to believe it. You don’t want to know that your trust is being broken. Or that someone you care about doesn’t have your best interest at heart.

So you ignore the signs and hope for the best.

Well not anymore. Seeing myself get to a point where I was actually questioning my sanity over a gut feeling that I had ignored for years, is pretty fucking extreme. But that’s the point I was pushed to after being told for years that I was crazy for having these thoughts. Being assured time and time again that what I was thinking, was wrong.

I can see so clearly now that if I had of had the confidence and strength to voice my opinion more forcibly when the signs first starting appearing; then it would have saved a world of heartbreak and pain. I definitely spoke up about it and raised my concerns. But was either assured I was being silly, or told dismissably that I was crazy and wrong. So I kept my mouth shut and tried in vain to believe the lies. The half truths. The avoidance. The changing of subjects quickly.

I know I am stronger now. And more confident. And I’m taking this as the most in your face lesson I could ever be taught. I’m tuning in to these feelings from now on and won’t ever make that mistake again.

It’s hard to not feel bitter about it. Knowing how different my life would be right now if I had of listened all those years ago. But I’m focusing purely on the fact that now I know what these signs mean and I will always remember the feeling of self-doubt that used to surround them. I’m viewing this as a positive thing to happen. That I finally heard the truth and can now move forward with the confidence in knowing I was right and the strength to continue this journey with more focus and determination.

I’m focussed on the fact that now I’m finally free from the lies. The truth well and truly, has set me free.

Timeless healing

They say time heals all wounds. Well you know what, I’m getting a little bit impatient waiting for this to happen. Actually a lot impatient. To be honest I’m sick to death of waiting.

I’ve had a week of virtually no sleep and everything is getting on top of me. I’m even hitting a point where I’m losing motivation for my running which is massive. I’ve spent the last 9 months with an unwavering motivation to run and train and smash this half marathon goal. I’m 5 weeks away from the race and I’m quickly losing all focus and determination. My body isn’t recovering and healing like it should be, because I’m not sleeping.

One of the more important aspects of training is getting enough rest to give your body time to recover and this isn’t happening so my body is in constant agony. I’m sore from head to toe. My eyes feel like they have needles in them. My brain has a fog over it and I’m not thinking clearly. I even put toothpaste on my daughter’s chest instead of Vick’s vapour rub a few days ago.

All because I’m laying here wide awake with thoughts of when will this all be over? When will the pain go away? When will I heal? When will a day pass where I don’t think about the what if’s? When will I stop feeling so lonely? When will the grief go away? When will I be able to look at my daughter and not feel guilty that she will grow up never remembering her parents together? When will I stop feeling like I was never good enough? When will I stop analysing everything tiny little thing I said and did and wondering how I could have done it differently? When? When? WHEN!?!?!?!?

I feel like I’ve stepped up big time during this journey. I’ve seen a therapist. I’ve followed her recommendations. I’ve done the hard work and walked into the pain rather than walking away and pretending I’m fine. I never stop processing my thoughts and feelings and doing the work to heal them. I’ve done the hard yards and faced everything that I’ve bottled up my whole life. I’ve opened up and been completely vulnerable.

Yet still I’m here feeling like shit. I’m still hurting. I’m still grieving. And I’m fucking over it.

I’ve hit a point where I’m just thinking fuck it why don’t I just go back to pushing my emotions down. Pretending that everything is fine. Pretending I’m ok and that losing my little family isn’t a big deal. Pretending I’ve moved on and I’m happy. Bury my head in the sand and not deal with any feelings or emotions that come up?

It would be so much easier. I could “heal” myself in an instant if I just pretend I don’t care and that it doesn’t affect me.

I’m sick of feeling so deeply. I’m sick of caring so much. I’m sick of the roller coaster. I’m sick of the heartbreak. I’m sick of the battle.

I’m totally and utterly done. I’ve given it my all. I’ve thrown myself into this journey with reckless abandon to finally face my demons and heal properly.

But I’m exhausted.

I’ve got nothing left to give.

I’m completely and irrecoverably done.

Time is taking too long.

I think I’ve been waiting for that aha moment where you all of a sudden you feel human again. Where everything finally clicks into place and all the hard work pays off. Maybe there is no such moment after so much heart ache in such a short space of time. Maybe little by little wounds heal and it gets easier. Maybe the pain never goes away.

I don’t know anymore. All I know right now in this moment is that I’ve literally got nothing left to give.

My journey has broken me.