The wanderer returns.

June is the last time I blogged - eek!

I've wanted to blog for weeks and weeks but I've not been able to find the words and the time. My summer didn't go how I hoped for it to at all and so blogging was just a no-go. It's a shame, I thought I was starting to get back with it a little but alas, life got in the way.

So where have I been?

Throughout July, I found my mental health deteriorated. I found my sleep patterns to be... well... not much of a pattern and more a jumble of naps. My appetite went up and down - one minute I would have bitten your arm off if you've tried to take my carbs away from me, the next minute I found myself skipping meals and instead living off of caffeine. I managed to get a new job though which had given me some focus. I loved the people I worked with and I thought things would balance out eventually. I planned to work hard over the summer, get some money behind me and go back with more of a level head for university in September.

August got worse though. I was being seen by a local Wellbeing Service which I didn't feel was doing me any favours. I didn't seem to be working on anything and I felt as though I wasn't really being heard. As ever, I ended up just taking a small tree of paper away from me, but as I said to the therapist, I had no concentration or focus to be able to sit and read it. Everything was spiralling. My anxiety had taken over, my Panic Monster was gobbling me up and the OCD made everything, especially eating, extremely difficult. A dark cloud was over my head and whilst most of the time I can recognise some rays of sunshine poking through, this time there was just darkness. And it loomed closer and closer to me, to the point where I felt consumed. It was then I lost all hope and I couldn't really recognise what I was doing.

Friday 14th August is a day I won't forget. I'm not going into any detail because I don't see it necessary and it pains me to talk about. But it was terrible, and painful, and very very scary. I ended up being admitted to hospital and spending three weeks there. My birthday fell on the 17th August, and whilst I was grateful to have so many people around me, it was bittersweet. I woke up expecting my other half to be next to me in bed whilst I opened my cards, my little dogs jumping all over the bed and just generally being a wonderful nuisance but instead I'd had little to no sleep and everything was making me cry.

So I got discharged 3rd September and here we are. No one warns you about coming home and how alien it can feel. But I'm slowly getting there, adjusting to 'normal' life. There's not much of a routine at the moment, I take each moment as it happens, and I still find it difficult to sit and merely recover. I've been told this is what is good for me though, rest, taking it easy - I guess the same as you'd expect to be told if you'd left general hospital. Some days I want company, other days I don't want to see or hear from anyone. Perhaps the most difficult decision that has been made since I have left is to take a year out from university. It's extremely heartbreaking to watch as this illness has taken away the things I have loved, to sap the enjoyment out of everything.

But thankfully, there is an ounce of hope in there somewhere I believe. I am thankful for my family who have stood by me at my darkest hour. I have fallen in love with my boyfriend all over again as he sat with me in hospital for hours on end, trying to make me smile when all I wanted to do was hide away from the world. I've even got the chance to go back to my job full time which is a great opportunity to progress and earn some much needed pennies in the meantime.

So in a very small nutshell, there is my story of where I've been since June. I plan to blog more, as a release and as a focus. I'd like the opportunity for it to grow, to help others perhaps. If you have any suggestions as to what may help, please do let me know.

May I ask that if you have read this post and you are struggling to seek help. Don't let it get to crisis point because however much hospital can keep you safe, it is not a place for recovery and I wouldn't wish the experience on anyone. There are support lines out there, forums, even apps that allow you to talk to someone, anyone. Sometimes speaking to a stranger is actually the saving grace. Don't suffer alone, please.