My life has been on hold for so many years now.  Going back some years ago I began to get flash backs, nightmares, anxiety and panic attacks.  I hit one heck of a brick wall in my life and everything collapsed around me.  I tried to carry on and forget it, push it as far back in my mind as I could, and tried everything so I wouldn't have to think of the reasons for it all.  I had to give up work, my Wicca and Witchcraft took a back seat, and I retreated from life. I supported my family for years, and it doesn't feel good to be on benefits but I was sick for a long time and they were nessacery, they still are, for now.  It annoys when people make me feel like a leach for being on them, it is not a choice.  Surely no one would choose a life of benefits if they don't need to?  Well, I am aware some do, but that has never been me.  I spent all my time helping others, babysitting, helping with problems, being support networks, anything so I didn't have to think of my own life.  My marriage began to fall apart and the only thing that stayed on track was my relationship with my daughters.  It was hard work, but they were worth it, and I hid everything from them so they would never know what pain I was really in.

 It worked well for a few years, but as always, hiding from it just made it worse.  More flash backs, more nightmares, and the rage kicked in.  If I was angry then I would not cry, and I hated to cry.  No one likes to cry, but if I cried then it was a BIG problem, and I would "punish" myself for it.  My husband did what he could, but not knowing the problem, not knowing what I was going through, I didn't share, never talked, just shouted, cursed and was cruel.  I even went so far as to threaten him with a knife.  I went to the doctor and they gave me anti-depressants.  Of course that just covered the problem, it didn't heal it.  I went to see a counsellor, she was a trainee and I was "her hours".  She really wasn't qualified to help with my problems.  I didn't know this at the time, and I went along to our meetings, even though I felt it wasn't helping in any way, and after 6 months I had a phone call one week to say she couldn't see me anymore, she had quit.  I wasn't given another replacement, she had told them i didn't need help and I was "fine".  It was a false mask I used, so I guess I can't blame her.

 I struggled on with life and then tried again a year later.  The doctor sent me to see a mental health assessment.  The man that took the meeting said I had 3 children and I was married, so whatever had happened obviously hadn't affected that much and I didn't need help.  The mask was on again.  Life went on, the rage grew worse, and I was now more than just a bitch.  I guess life does that to people.  It's so easy to get stuck in a routine and hide away from everything and everyone.  If I didn't let anyone in I could never get hurt.  Well, another year passed and I again went to see a counsellor.  This time it was even worse, it was a man again and he kept making inappropriate remarks to me, making me feel uncomfortable and nervous around him.  How could I open up to someone like that?  I told him I didn't think he could help me, he said he would refer me to a psychologist.  I agreed this was the best course of action and he said it would be a few months waiting list.  I figured I had been this way for nearly 10 years now, so a few more months wasn't going to hurt.  I waited, and waited and waited.  After 8 months of waiting I called him to find out what was going on with my refer all.  He had forgotten about me and had not referred me.  Oh he was very sorry about it, and asked me not to say anything as he could be in serious trouble.  I should have said something, but by this time I had pretty much given up on everything and life seemed too hard to live.  I was contemplating suicide.  It seemed the only way out.

A month later I met my psychologist, Deveaney, (that's properly spelt wrong) I went to the meetings never expected it to help, and never expecting her to care.  I was wrong.  As time went by she helped with my problems.  I didn't have to say anything, I didn't have to talk about the flashbacks, the childhood abuse that had made them.  Yet she had a way of knowing, of talking about things that mattered, about life and how I could learn to cope again.  It was trial and error and some things would work, some would not.  But it was OK.  It was a long hard healing process, and there were so many times when suicide seemed the only way.  Those were the weeks she would phone me in between our meetings to make sure I was still alive I guess.  But she never gave up on me, not like I had done to myself.  I was border line schizophrenic and Personal Identity Disorder.

Now, nearly a year and half later I am beginning my life again.  I am a strong capable women again.  I have seen a psychiatrist and I have Emotional Unstable Personality Disorder and I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  I am now on antipsychotic drugs and things are finally getting better.  With the love and support of my husband, I have been able to survive again.  Life seems so beautiful now.  Living in the dark makes you appreciate the light all the more.  I made a decision that I wanted to live again.  So that is what I am doing.  I am learning to live again.  That is why the journey has just begun.  I am on a mission to lose all the weight I put on through over eating my feelings.  After that I will be looking at giving up smoking.  Tomorrow I begin a new volunteer job in a local charity shop.  My goal is to eventually get back to work again.  Right now it is small and steady, baby steps. The past took all of my childhood away from me, and I refuse to let it take any more.  This is my journey out of the dark.