I stood there, crying whilst
I stared at the frayed laces on my little black-patented shoe…
It was the same every
morning before school. I’d spend an hour pulling at my laces to ensure they
were the tightest they could be. If my shoes felt ‘just right’, then I believe
my day would be good. God forbid if they didn’t. Have I mentioned I’m a
redhead? Redhead is synonymous with fiery tempered.
Little did my parents
know that their flustered little four-year-old redheaded fuse box was actually
showing signs of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (O.C.D.)
You see? O.C.D isn’t
about contamination or cleaning!
It gets worse. Let me
tell you how.
At this young age of four
I knew there was something wrong with me before I even knew some words. My
innocence was my refuge. I would be singing every moment of the day when I was
a child, despite my morning ordeals.
It wasn't until age 21
that I was diagnosed with O.C.D, just after I had graduated with my degree in
Drama.
The most liberating day
of my life was the day I got my diagnosis. It meant more to me than any degree
or qualification could.
I sat on my sofa moments after ripping the
letter from its envelope, in the most untidy and riotous way may I add, and
cried with relief. ‘So I’m not mad?’ I thought to myself.
‘There’s actually a name
and help for these thoughts I have?’
Yup! It’s O.C.D and the
World Health Organization will tell you that it’s the TENTH most debilitating
disorder in the word.
Yes, you read that right.
“O.C.D is in the top ten most debilitating disorders IN THE WORLD.”
‘What?!’
Why was I only hearing
about this now? I could have been helped long before I was.
Ah, but you see. That’s
stigma for you!
My parents weren’t able
to detect that my claims of “I’ve that bad feeling again” as something to be
concerned about. They, like the generations before them, didn’t recognize
‘Mental Health’ as something separate and just as important as physical health.
Nobody wanted to
acknowledge that they had this ‘bad feeling’ that my young self would often
murmur about.
With the history of
‘mental asylums’ and ‘lunacy acts’, it’s no wonder it was something that we all
pretended we didn’t have. Even the innocent ‘ringing in the ear’, that we now
know as tinnitus, was a sure sign of ‘madness’.
Panic and anxiety were my
shadows. Every thing that was bright in my life was soon in overcast with the
darkness that loomed by, always at close proximity. As if watching me, and
ready to sweep in to consume me, if by chance, I were to enjoy myself. I began
to forget what it was to be a child, whilst still a child.
“It’s all in your head”
my Mother would say to me, repeating what my Doctor had just said to me seconds
before as I sat in a bleak G.P’s office with two sets of bewildered eyes
staring at me.
They were right, it was
all in my head, and it was festering.
I had stopped singing.
Innocence lost!
As I got older the
thoughts came. Sick, vile, twisted
intrusive thoughts would stab my brain every second of the day. I would obsess
over why ‘I’, Caroline, would have such disturbing thoughts.
“Maybe you are twisted
for thinking this” harked the enemy that resided in my skull.
“Maybe you think like
this because you are like this!”
Logic didn’t stand a
chance in my head.
Panic would claw at my
neck, and the thunder would roll in my head.
My mind was like a
stampede of wild animals caught in a storm.
My body, frozen with
fear, duly responded to danger and prepared my body for flight. Nausea to
lighten the body for faster running, pumping heart to carry oxygen to my brain
quicker, heightened senses to scan for further danger. Sorry body, it’s my
brain lying to you again. My brain fooled my primitive safety mechanisms. I wasn’t in danger, it was my thoughts that
were the threat.
And like Silvia Plath
herself said “Is there no way out of the mind”
Nope, there certainly is
not. Unless Descartes was spot on, in which case I wish someone would let my
brain out of its vat already! Maybe steep it overnight beside the peas. Mushy
peas, mushy brain. Quite fitting!
As I grew up, so too did
the complexity and severity of my ill mental health.
Like every teenager I
knew, a pro at something; skateboarding, chronic laziness, I was a pro at
living a life with anxiety on my back.
I love my rock music
since day 1, and enjoyed a little Hennessey or two as I got older…O.K maybe
three.
I was wisdom’s soul, in
youth’s body. The frequent storms aged
me. Weather-beaten. I could have sung you songs of experience!
I got older, the drink
and partying became less. Not by choice. Why would a 21 year old choose to give
up drink and partying?
I had no other
option. My mental health, that was once
an unsteady freight train was now derailing.
My sister had her first
child premature, and this stressful time for the family sent me into a spiral
of stress-induced, O.C.D laced, anxiety riddled, mental health breakdown.
“I DO EXERCISE, I EAT
HEALTHY. I NEED PROFESSIONAL HELP”. I said through gritted teeth at a
nonchalant Doctor with an annoying tie, a lazy eye-blinking tempo, and
too-tight trousers that even my own disturbed mind couldn’t handle.
Of course I was in my
local. The Doctors!
For the second time that
week I made a point of going to the Doctors for help for my mental health. My
usual Doctor was unavailable and so I had to begin all over again, describing
how I do exercise and all the ‘helpful’ things but still weren’t working.
Of course, I left feeling
deflated.
I couldn’t get help,
anywhere.
Panic had me sliding down
my bedroom wall, and crutched down into my habitual fetal position.
Submissive to my mental health that ruled over me.
Again, I tried.
Subdued, tired and
hopeless, I said to my usual Doctor “I need help!”
A few weeks later I had
an assessment in ‘Adult Psychological Therapies’.
I broke down. I cried. I
vented. I verbalized my most disturbing thoughts. I pleaded for help.
More weeks passed.
Little did I know that
the familiar sound of the post-man that morning signified the turning point in
my life.
“After consulting with
the psychiatrist…
…O.C.D…
“…a common disorder…
…treatable
with medication and therapy…
…your Doctor has been
informed…
…begin on 50mg and up it to 200mg…
…C.B.T waiting list…”
I held my very own
winning lottery ticket.
I held my first glimpse
of hope, and it was glorious.
Yes, the waiting C.B.T
waiting list was long, yes the medication had some side-effects, and yes I made
some lifestyle changes, but I was free.
A medical diagnosis of a
mental health disorder and a prescription for a hefty dose of S.S.R.I’s
(Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors)- anti-depressants to the common
tongue, is not something one would feel joyous about.
For me, it was
everything!
It was an answer to every
question.
It was a reason for the
anxiety and it was a to end every panic attack.
It was the logic to my
illogic
It was the stamp of
approval on my existence. FIT FOR PURPOSE.
It was a lifeline.
So what did I do with my
new found freedom?
I went to Queen's
University in Belfast and trained in the therapy that my O.C.D was being
treated with, Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (C.B.T)
I then went and trained
to become an Integrative Mental Health counsellor.
My redheaded spark burst
into a flame and I became unapologetic about who I was. I became vocal, honest
about my mental health, and I wasn’t holding back.
I created a blog.
Georgiana, the Dutchess
of Devonshire in the 17th Century was an unconventional woman of her
time. She surprised many by ignoring social etiquette, defied authority and was
her unapologetic self. I found instant
similarities.
With an ode to my fiery
temper, I became The Red Dutchess.
And so I took to social
media, ready to conquer the unchartered territory of mental health awareness.
Whilst I would have
modelled and did some quite lavish modelling jobs, I knew that people would
assume that my life was carefree and easy.
People were surprised to
watch my first 'Mental Health Monday' You Tube video and find out that I had
dealt with mental health issues since I was four years of age.
So when I shared my
experience on You Tube I showed people exactly how easy it was for someone to
have misconceptions about mental health issues. The general assumption is that
mental health has a certain 'look'; someone who looks how they feel.
The shock surrounding my
disclosure brought people to empathise with me, to disclose their personal
struggles with me, and telling me how my honesty made them feel less alone now
that they knew someone who described exactly how they felt.
I couldn't believe the
sense of relief I sensed off people, never mind myself.
I knew there was
potential in this method and way of de-stigmatizing mental health through
social media.
So I started to do more
and more specified mental health You Tube videos, posts and help. Then the idea
of Replenish was born.
Replenish is my mental
health wellbeing programme that invites people to learn about mental health
issues such as Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (O.C.D), Anxiety and
Depression through creative therapeutic techniques, in an non-clinical and relaxed environment.
I've developed Replenish
in response to the lack of awareness and stigma surrounding mental health, and a alternative to intimidating therapy processes.
We live in a westernized
flow of discontent, and it’s hard to break free of that restricted style of
living. We restrict ourselves from being our authentic selves, for fear of being
marginalized and we deprive ourselves of gaining insight to ourselves.
What we can do is
replenish our way of living by re-evaluating and re-appreciating our lives with
a different perspective and understanding. Therefore, Replenish is aimed at
bringing people to regenerate their outlook and approach to life by learning understand that the drive for ‘happiness’ is
unattainable as it’s as temporary as a fit of anger. Happiness, like trends,
come and goes. It’s contentment that we seek, and contentment comes from
looking around you with gratitude.
My gratitude comes from
the hidden motive of my mental health illness. All along, its torture was its
lesson and I’m bringing that lesson with me and sharing it with every single
person I meet.
There have been numerous
cycles of Replenish workshops that have already happened and there are demands
for the workshops to be held in Sligo, Dublin and even as far as Cork and
Wales.
Replenish is a new way
for our society to understand mental health, to not be afraid of it and to
educate the masses on how they can help themselves AND others by becoming
informed.
Mental Health awareness
is my passion, and I won't stop until it is acknowledged that it's O.K to have
a mental health issue and there is always hope to be held, even if it is a
diagnosis.
Today? I'm the person my four year old self needed. I'm damn proud to be her.
More information on
joining a Replenish workshop:
