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Debunking Common Myths About Therapy

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Therapy is a powerful tool that anyone can benefit from – it can help with personal growth, healing, self-discovery and compassion towards both yourself and others. Yet, despite more and more people speaking about therapy and what it entails, there are still myths surrounding it which can cause hesitation and doubts about whether it is something to consider.

Therapy is only for people with ‘serious’ mental health issues:

Therapy isn’t just for those with severe mental health issues or those in crisis. It is a resource that can be used by anyone facing life challenges, seeking personal growth, or wanting to understand themselves better. I had a Psychology teacher when I was studying for my A Levels who told me that she really strongly believed that everyone, mental health conditions or not, should have to have therapy at some point in their life – and looking back, I absolutely agree!

Talking to friends and family is just as effective as therapy:

I am absolutely NOT wanting to dismiss the invaluable support that friends and family can offer you – I have incredible support from my family and friends and I wouldn’t be able to do life without them by my side. Therapy, however, offers something different. Therapists are trained professionals who are there in a neutral, non-judgemental capacity. They use evidence-based techniques to help you process emotions, identify patterns, and develop coping strategies.

Therapy takes forever to work:

How long therapy takes to work is entirely dependent on your goals and needs. Some people find huge benefits within a few weeks, whereas others benefit more from long-term work. It’s something to discuss with your therapist as they are in the best position to help you determine what is best for you.

The therapist will judge me or think that I am broken beyond repair:

Therapists are there to provide empathy and understanding, not to judge you. They aren’t there because they think you are broken and need fixing – they just want to help you work towards your goals in a partnership with you.

Therapy is all about your childhood experiences:

For some people, talking about their childhood is absolutely necessary. And for most people, looking at past experiences can be helpful, but therapy isn’t solely focused on the past/your childhood. The therapeutic process should be tailored to address your current concerns, whether they stem from past or present experiences.

My therapist will solve my problems for me:

As nice as this would be, it’s simply not possible for the therapist to do the work for you. Ultimately, change has to come from you – the therapist can help you and give suggestions and guidance, but you have to be the one to make those changes. One of my most commonly used phrases in my therapy sessions used to be “but I’m paying you to agree with me” which would inevitably result in an eye roll and being reminded that she definitely is NOT there to agree with me – it would be nice if she did, but then no progress would be made and therefore it would be a huge waste of time – for me and for her.

Believing myths like the ones discussed here can prevent people from seeking therapy when they need it most. So it’s important to challenge these misconceptions so that people are informed and have an accurate depiction about what therapy is like. If you’ve been hesitant about therapy, remember: it is a tool for everyone! Taking that first step could be the start of the rest of your life and provide the transformation and growth that will turn your life around.

All my love,

Anna x

Loneliness in Chronic Illness

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Living with chronic illness is a journey that is full of challenges – physical, emotional, social – you name it, it can be a challenge. Among these, loneliness is something that is incredibly common but is also underestimated by a lot of people. Chronic illness fundamentally reshapes your entire life – activities that one brought you joy may no longer be possible due to pain or fatigue, friends and family may struggle to understand your limitations which also leaves you vulnerable to feelings of loneliness.

Social events often require energy and effort that a lot of people with chronic illness are unable to participate in. Spoon theory is a good way to describe the energy limitations that are imposed on someone with a chronic health condition, and often we simply lack the ‘spoons’ needed. This can lead to feelings of isolation as being around friends and family is how we feel connected and is something that people need – we use solitary confinement in prisons as a punishment because it removes that connection that all humans need.

As well as this, when people misunderstand our illness or limits that we have, it can lead to a lack of empathy or patience. It’s understandable that, unless you’ve got a chronic health condition yourself, you can’t fully comprehend what life is like. And as chronic illnesses are so unique and symptoms vary drastically from person to person there can be misunderstanding between individuals with the same condition. It often feels like no one understands what life can be like, and this is a lonely place to be!

Loneliness doesn’t just stem from chronic illness either – it can actually worsen it. Social isolation can exacerbate feelings of depression, anxiety, and hopelessness, which can, in turn, amplify physical symptoms. It can feel like a never-ending cycle that is impossible to break.

But despite the loneliness that you may feel, there are other ways to connect with people. I have found communities online that have allowed me to connect with and speak to other people with chronic illness who understand what life can be like. For me, social media is my connection to the outside world – if I didn’t have access to it then life would feel even more isolating for me. I sometimes take breaks from social media as it can feel overwhelming at times, but I do miss the sense of community and understanding when I am away from those groups.

If you know someone who is living with a chronic illness, remember that your understanding and patience can make all the difference. Reach out, listen without judgement, and offer support in whatever way your loved one needs. Offer to pop round for a cup of tea or to go to drop off some shopping. Ask if they want to chat on the phone or over facetime. Find out if they need help with jobs around the house and offer to go over and help them get some bits done. Whatever is needed at the time – knowing that they have people who love and care about them will undoubtedly make the person struggling with chronic illness feel valued and connected to you!

All my love,

Anna x

Why I hate New Year’s Resolutions

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Every year, millions of people readily come up with New Year’s resolutions and are filled with anticipation that this might be the year that we eat better, exercise more, complete a project or achieve a life goal. And every year, by February (or let’s be real – by mid-January) planners are discarded, gyms are emptier and diets have gone out the window. Sound familiar? That’s because, for the most part, New Year’s resolutions are a load of crap.

They are built on a false premise – the idea behind New Year’s resolutions is simple: January 1st is some kind of magical reset that will transform you into a better version of yourself. But here’s the truth: change doesn’t care about the date on the calendar. There isn’t anything that special about the first day of the year. Waiting for a specific date to work towards achieving a positive goal or habit is just procrastination wearing a festive hat.

They set you up for failure – most resolutions are vague and unrealistic. They might sound nice, but without a concrete plan or measurable milestones, they’re destined to fail. When you inevitably fall short, you’re left feeling guilty and frustrated – not exactly the motivation you’re wanting, right?!

They’re all or nothing – resolutions are framed as black or white, there is no grey area. Either you’re hitting your daily step goal or calorie ideal or you’re failing. This is a recipe for disaster because life is messy and slip-ups are inevitable. It is not a reason to quit altogether.

They ignore the power of small, steady change – real, lasting change doesn’t happen in giant leaps; it happens in the small, consistent steps. Small wins help you to build momentum and, in turn, motivation. New Year’s resolutions are idealistic and built on the idea of instant transformation.

They’re driven by external pressure – lets be honest: how many resolutions you come up with are things you actually want vs things you think you should want. Unsurprisingly, when you make resolutions that are driven by what you think you should want, they become easy to abandon, and therefore fuel the feelings of guilt and failure.

They are a marketing ploy – New Year’s resolutions are a goldmine for companies looking to sell you something. Gym memberships, subscriptions to diet plans, apps that promise you productivity – they are capitalising on your hopeful (and usually short-lived) commitment to self-improvement. Instead of falling for the hype and buying in to something you don’t really want or need, ask yourself: do I really need this or am I falling for a clever sales pitch?

So, what’s the alternative?

Ditch the pressure-filled annual ritual and focus on a more sustainable approach to change – focus on habits and taking small steps each day, remember that you can start at any time because the best time to start is always now. Be compassionate and gentle with yourself and remind yourself that you can adjust your goals and plans as you need to. And, finally, make sure that your goals align with your values – you’re much more likely to keep motivated to achieve your goals if they fit who you are as a person!

The bottom line is this: you don’t need an arbitrary date or big resolution to grow or succeed. Real change happens gradually and consistently. I hope that the next year is the year where you learn to focus on building a life that feels good no matter what day of the year it is.

See you all in 2025!

All my love,

Anna x

Christmas with a Chronic Illness

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The festive season is a magical time filled with joy, love, and celebration. But for those living with a chronic illness, it can also be physically and emotionally taxing. The packed social calendar, financial pressure, and an expectation to be cheerful can feel overwhelming when your body is already having to deal with the daily challenges that chronic conditions bring. Here are some tips to help you navigate the holidays whilst prioritising your health and well-being.

  1. Set boundaries early – communicate with your friends and family about what you can and cannot do. Let them know how your condition impacts your energy and availability.
    • You might want to plan shorter visits, especially if spending all day somewhere feels too much, a limited timeframe might work better for you.
    • You can say no without feeling guilty – declining invitations or skipping certain traditions doesn’t mean you’re ruining things, you’re just protecting your health.
  2. Prioritise rest – the holidays are exhausting for pretty much everyone regardless of health issues.
    • Schedule downtime when needed.
    • Listen to your body – if you need to leave early or skip something completely then do that. Your body knows what it needs and should be respected!
    • Create a cosy retreat – somewhere where you can decompress where needed. I like to hide under fluffy blankets and put on my galaxy projector light and just *breathe*
  3. Simplify your holiday plans to avoid unnecessary stress.
    • Delegate tasks – let other people help you with cooking, cleaning and shopping.
    • Embrace convenience – convenient options exist for a reason and they are there to be used! Do your shopping online, grab some microwave meals, scale back the festive decor – whatever works for you.
    • Prioritise your favourite traditions – focus on the things that bring you most joy. For me that’s a candle-lit carol service and trying to see at least some cool Christmas lights!
  4. Stay warm and comfortable – winter weather can exacerbate symptoms for some people so take steps to stay cosy:
    • Layer up – wear comfortable, warm clothing, especially if travelling.
    • Heat therapy – use heated blankets/heat-pads or warm baths to soothe pain.
    • Hydrate – don’t forget to drink plenty of fluids.
  5. Prepare for social interactions – family gatherings can be overwhelming places, especially if you’re trying to manage symptoms.
    • Plan conversation boundaries – be ready with a response if someone asks you intrusive questions about your health that you don’t want to answer (it’s okay to tell people you don’t want to talk about things!)
    • Bring your essentials – medications, snacks, TENS machine, headphones… anything you might need!
    • Take breaks – excuse yourself for some time to wind down if needed.
  6. Mind your mental health – the holidays can be emotionally draining, especially if you’re unable to participate fully due to illness.
    • Practice self-compassion – remind yourself that it’s okay to have limitations and that you’re doing your best.
    • Stay connected – if you can’t physically go to gatherings, find ways to connect virtually if you can.
    • Seek support – reach out to any mental health professionals involved in your care if needed, speak to your GP, family or friends to share how you’re feeling.
  7. Have a backup plan – chronic illness is unpredictable at the best of times! Create contingency plans for if things flare up.
    • Keep your activities as flexible as possible – if you don’t need to book things, don’t book them (I still haven’t been able to book the activity my sister planned for my Christmas present last year as I can’t reliably manage plans) and let loved ones know that plans might have to change if you’re not well enough.
    • Stock up – make sure you have enough medication for whilst pharmacies are closed/post might take longer, keep easy meals/snacks in, and any other essentials you might need.
  8. Celebrate in your own way – sometimes, the best way to celebrate Christmas is to tailor it to your own needs.
    • Host a quiet celebration (if you’re well enough) – create a calm space with a few loved ones, that way you can tell them to leave when needed and be in your own space which might be more comfortable.
    • Focus on small joys – the hot chocolate, watching Christmas films, watching twinkling Christmas tree lights.
    • Remember the spirit of the season isn’t about doing everything, it’s about finding moments of peace and connection.

Christmas with a chronic illness can look different, but it can still be meaningful and joyful for you and those close to you. It can still be a time of cosy comfort and love, just on your terms – just remember to look after yourself and prioritise your boundaries as well as turning to others for support when needed!

All my love,

Anna x

Ella’s Sepsis Story

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If there’s one thing you read in its entirety today, please let it be this.

It been 2 year ago now since I knocked on death’s door! I went from being at a farm swap one day, to dying the next. It wasn’t a rare medical condition that brought me from being a healthy woman to a dying one either. It just hit hard, it hit fast and it would turn my life upside down.

In August of 2022 I had sepsis. And then in October of 2023 it came back. The goal of 2024 is to not get sepsis!

Before I had sepsis, I knew that sepsis was your body’s reaction to infection. I just thought old people got it or those with poor health. I didn’t know people like me(or that even my children) could get it so quickly and I didn’t know that sepsis had long term health affects. I was pretty uneducated about what sepsis was.

And so it’s become important to me to share what sepsis is, to tell you how to recognize signs of it and to tell you what post-sepsis syndrome is, in hopes that if you are sick you don’t wait to seek medical attention.

Sepsis is the body’s extreme response to an infection. If you don’t get treatment for it, it can lead to organ failure, tissue damage and death.

Symptoms of sepsis are not specific. They can vary from person to person. Initially my blood pressure was low and I had change in mental clarity… my mental state was the most drastic actually. So much so that the hospital ER staff believed I was high on narcotics and was treating me as such. It wasn’t until the hospital made contact with my husband and my best friend arrived at the ER that they were able to ensure the hospital I wasn’t a drug addict and that something else was wrong. And it was! I was finally given a urine drug screen and passed, but the long wait in the ER and being treated as just another addict had delayed much needed treatment and my sepsis turned into septic shock. My best friend saved my life that day.

I spiraled quickly… my blood pressure was low, my respiratory rates were high, I had a fever, I was hallucinating, I was shivering, I lost control of my bladder functions, I felt nauseous. I felt absolutely horrible.

Having sepsis led to my long admittance to the hospital. If I had stayed home, I wouldn’t have made it. If the hospital had delayed longer, I wouldn’t have made it. When people don’t get treatment, sepsis is a leading cause of death. Sepsis ranks higher than breast cancer, lung cancer, and heart attacks. It’s serious stuff. Sepsis can kill an affected person in as little as 12 hours and now that I’ve “been there, done that”, I can testify that this is absolutely true. I was feeling pretty deathly pretty rapidly.

Sepsis is treated with a strict antibiotic regimen. The underlying cause of sepsis or the original infection isn’t always known. It wasn’t ever clearly determined what caused me to get sick. They just have theories.

When I was discharged from the hospital I left knowing I’d be out of work for a bit, taking time to feel better, get rested, etc. But as the days grew to weeks, I wasn’t getting better. I found myself lost(literally), easily confused, at a loss for words, extremely tired, and unable to do tasks I once could. I would wake up and be disoriented to where I was. I’d sit in the house and not know what I was supposed to be doing. I’d try to do simple tasks like pickup dinner at the store and then completely forget why I was there. I would see people and they would act like we knew each other but I had no memory of them. Jason would tell me who they were but it’s like they never existed. I’d relearn people, names, and events. I would later find out that I had post-sepsis syndrome.

Post-sepsis syndrome affects 50% of sepsis survivors. Symptoms vary from psychological to physical effects. My short term memory was heavily impacted as was my cognitive functioning, similar to that of a traumatic brain injury. I had extreme fatigue and chest pains. My once normal heart now had tachycardia.

Post sepsis has required me to take medications just to stay awake during the day and to stimulate my brain. It’s changed my heart functioning and I take medications to keep it beating the right way. It’s made me forget some moments I desperately want to remember. It’s made simple memory tasks into harder ones. It’s made me rely on others to help do tasks I once could easily do. It’s enrolled me in rehab where we practiced skills to help my injured brain.

Now I do things on my speed and with tons of support from my husband and kids.

If you say “wow! I didn’t know!” It’s because I have the best support system someone could ask for. You don’t see me fail because of them. I succeed because they are behind me filling in the gaps.

I don’t share this because I want prayers or good vibes. I don’t want sympathy. On my two year almost dying anniversary, I want you to take sepsis seriously. Very seriously. I want you to go the doctor when you have an infection. I want you to take 5 mins today and to Google sepsis and read about all the signs and symptoms of sepsis.

I want you to be healthy. ❤️

April’s Sepsis Story

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I had a brainwave a couple of days ago and thought it would be really good to share as many stories of sepsis as possible on this platform. I might not have the widest reach in the world, but I have had people reading from across the world and sepsis is so serious that to me, it feels like a no-brainer. Awareness saves lives. I just want to thank every person who has agreed to share their story with me as it takes a lot to put yourself out there. Over the next couple of weeks I’ll be sharing various stories – please read and show some support to these amazing humans for wanting their story out there to hopefully help others!

On Saturday, September 2, 2017, I delivered a healthy baby boy and I was the happiest woman on earth. My husband and I had prayed for this child for years and this was going to be the start of our new adventure. What I did not know then was that this adventure was going to have a very rough start, one that still leaves me with nightmares.

On the day I was supposed to be discharged from the hospital I began to feel sick. I began to experience fever, chills, overall feeling of weakness, became short of breath, and felt like my heart was racing. I told my doctors all of my symptoms, but was quickly brushed off and was told that I was likely “just anxious about being a new mother.” Some tests were run and my White Blood Cell (WBC) count was higher than the previous tests, but again I was brushed off and told, “An elevated WBC count is normal after child birth.” When I was shivering from my fever, I was told to take a hot shower and one doctor even turned the thermostat in my room up to 80 degrees to stop the shivering. When my fever turned to sweats a nurse brought me a fan, again I was not taken seriously. Over the next few days I would continue to complain to doctors, but I continued to be ignored. One doctor even told me I was being “crazy” and needed to “stop”.

After doctors had given me enough Ibuprofen to make my fever go away for a while, they told me my new mom anxieties would likely go away when I got home and they sent me home with a prescription for anxiety medication. Not being a medical professional, or knowing what an elevated heart rate, fever, and elevated white blood cell count meant, I naively believed the doctors, that I would feel better once I got home.

Upon going home my symptoms did not improve. I continued to take the prescribed medications, including the anxiety medication prescribed by the doctor. My heart continued to race and I could not sleep or care for my newborn baby. Within about 36 hours of being released from the hospital, I couldn’t take it anymore and returned to the hospital first thing 9/08/17. On the way to the hospital I told my mother about the doctor telling me I was “acting crazy”, and was second guessing going back for fear that I would be told the same thing and sent home again. I am thankful my mom kept driving and insisted I get checked out. After a short stay in triage I was admitted into the hospital due to suspicions of an infection. Over the next 24 hours in Labor and Delivery my condition did not improve, I got progressively sicker and sicker as each hour passed. I went to the hospital to get better, instead I laid there getting worse. The OBGYN doctors had no real answers for my family. In the early morning hours of 9/09/17, I was finally taken to the ICU by a nurse from a different department who looked at my labs and knew something was extremely wrong. Had he not taken quick action, there is no doubt I would not have survived another 24 hours in the Labor and Delivery unit.

Over the next 2 weeks I would be treated for sepsis, endomitritis, septic shock, and all the other issues that go along with those, I.E.. kidney failure, shock liver, unstable blood pressure, pulmonary edema,  blood clots, and the list goes on. I don’t remember much from my 9 days in the ICU and my earliest memories of waking up from my medically induced coma are filled with nothing but confusion. Where was my son? Did I even have a baby? Was that a dream? Whose hand did I trace the letters “C-R-U-Z” in to when I had a tube in down my throat?

I would later learn that was my mother’s hand that I traced my son’s name in to and that was one of the very first things I did when I woke up. As I started to become more aware my family and doctors carefully tried to explain to me that I had developed an infection of an unknown source. That was the very first time that I had ever heard the word, “sepsis.”  At the time, I had no idea what septic shock even meant. I was very confused. I had no idea that I had literally just escaped death. I had no idea that during my time in ICU the doctors told my family to call those closest to me to say their goodbyes.  I had no idea that my husband had to think about how he was going to raise his son without a mother. I had no idea that my son came so close to growing up without his mama. I had no idea what I had survived had killed so many others.

My husband recently visited another hospital in our area and noticed several posters about the symptoms of sepsis and we all talk about how if we had seen that information what might have been different. I constantly find myself saying, “I wish I had known about sepsis.”

Although my story of being a new mom got off to a rough start, today I am a happy, healthy, mama to a silly, smart, and sometimes a bit of a wild child boy. On the days when I get upset about missing out on the first month of dirty diapers, midnight feedings, and sweet baby cuddles I am reminded that not all who experience sepsis are as lucky as me. Now more than ever, I hear stories about people who have lost limbs, had severe long-term problems, and even died from sepsis.  Throughout my one month stay in the hospital I constantly heard from medical professionals how “rare” sepsis is, but as I have done more research I am realizing sepsis really isn’t rare at all.

As I continue to share my story  I find people just don’t know what sepsis is. I try to stress to everyone that while my sepsis experience was related to child birth, sepsis can affect anyone from something as small as a cut on your finger.

My goal in sharing my story is to help educate others about the symptoms of sepsis and the importance of advocating for your own health or the health of those around you.  Because sepsis can affect anyone I want to help raise awareness across all audiences, but my experience has led me to have a special place in my heart for mothers-to-be. I  I hope that more OBGYN teams will educate themselves on sepsis so that no family has to go through what mine did and even more so, I hope that pregnant women learn the symptoms and stand their ground if they feel that something is not right.

My Sepsis Story

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In January this year I had sepsis and it was the most terrifying experience of my life. It wasn’t the first time I’ve had it but it was the worst. As people with Fowler’s Syndrome are at higher risk of infections due to catheters, it follows that we are also at higher risk of developing sepsis. I’m really fortunate that because I was already in hospital at the time, it was caught early because things could have been much worse.

On New Years Eve I started to feel incredibly unwell. At first I thought it might just be the start of a migraine because I’m often sick and more exhausted than normal when I feel one coming on. But when the nurse in my bay came to do my observations I could tell something was seriously wrong. She immediately went to call a doctor and within 5 minutes my bed was surrounded.

My blood pressure had absolutely tanked (my notes, which I later read, said that it was 61/30), my temperature was 41°c and despite being in bed my heart rate was 149bpm. My score on the National Early Warning Signs system was 12. They took bloods straight away, including blood cultures, and put me on continuous fluids. And when they looked at what my lactate level was they knew that they were probably dealing with septic shock. A normal blood lactate level is less than 2.0mmol/L (some sources say that it’s less than 1.0mmol/L) and mine had jumped to 23. My entire body felt like it was on fire and I was beginning to feel quite disorientated.

Whilst they waited for my blood cultures to come back I was put on 3 different IV antibiotics until they knew what one was most appropriate. The critical care outreach team came to see me and discussions were had about whether or not I needed to be moved to intensive care. I wasn’t tolerating my feed at all so it had to be stopped for a few days, and when I woke up on New Years Day, I had the worst headache I’ve ever experienced. If I thought the headache that was starting the day before was bad, it was nothing in comparison to this.

I genuinely felt like my head was going to explode. I couldn’t move at all – I couldn’t sit up, turn from side to side, and the bright hospital lights just made everything worse. This made the medics suspect that I might have meningitis, but once my blood cultures came back, they realised that it was ‘just’ being in septic shock. I’m pretty glad that I didn’t have to have a lumbar puncture – I was hours away from that being carried out.

The continuous IV fluids were carried on until my blood pressure had stabilised a little – it took 4 days before it was normal enough that I was allowed to stand up and walk to the toilet (that was about 5 steps in front of my bed), and the same before my temperature dropped below 40°C. The critical care outreach team came to see me 4-6 times a day whilst my NEWS was still so high.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so unwell in my life. All I asked the doctors for the first few days was ‘am I going to die?’ because I really did feel like that was the likely outcome. And now, being a science nerd who likes to read research papers for fun, it’s made things even clearer in terms of how unwell I was. In all honesty, the severity of my symptoms was probably also, in part, due to malnutrition and having experienced refeeding syndrome the week prior to going into septic shock. My body was struggling a lot.

It took a good 4 weeks before I started to feel semi-human again (although I still wasn’t at my baseline) and what did my body reward me with? Sepsis take two. I wasn’t quite as unwell the second time around, which I’m very grateful for, but it’s still taken it out of me. I’m still not back at baseline, even 6 months later, and I’m anticipating a long road ahead of me, but I know I’m incredibly lucky to be in the position I am, because things could have been very different.

All my love,

Anna x

An Invisible Battle: How Chronic Illness Affects Mental Health

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Living with a chronic illness is like trying to work your way through the maze from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire – there are new obstacles at every turn, and just as you think you know where you’re going a dead end springs up in front of you and you have to try and start again. Whilst the physical impacts of chronic illness can, at times, be readily apparent, the impact that illness has on your mental health is often overlooked. It’s a complex interaction – an invisible battle that so many people face daily.

One defining characteristic of many chronic illness is their invisible nature, leaving no outward signs of the suffering that goes on. As a result of this many individuals living with chronic illness struggle with feelings of isolation and invalidation. There is often a huge psychological toll because of this, especially when there are attitudes of disbelief from others as they struggle to understand the extent of the pain and suffering that goes on below the surface. This lack of understanding is something that increases feelings of alienation, which just adds to the psychological impact that chronic illness has.

Something that I really struggled with, and, if I’m being honest still struggle with, has been the loss of my previous life. The loss of many things that felt like ‘Anna’. The loss of my degree, the job I had, the hobbies I enjoyed. I could suddenly no longer study or work, and things like running and going to the gym were unattainable because of the harsh limitations that were so quickly imposed on my life. And I know that this is something that so many other people struggle with too. As well as the loss of life, the stigma that accompanies chronic illness also impacts our self-esteem. We live in a society that values busyness and speed, productivity and independence. It becomes easy to internalise these messages, and to feel like everyone else is living their best life, which can exacerbate struggles with our mental health. 

And chronic illness life is STRESSFUL. That might be the understatement of the year. We have to deal with symptoms, flares, appointments and treatment, as well as the questions about the future that hang over us. Experiencing unpredictable symptoms and  flare ups is something that definitely makes me feel out of control. I really struggle with not knowing if things will get better or worse, and wish that I could somehow control everything in my own way (yes, I am a control freak and perfectionist and probably always will be). It becomes easy to feel like you’re constantly watching your back, trying to anticipate the next wave of symptoms that will appear. And this is exhausting, both physically and emotionally. The never ending feelings of stress have been studied and shown to contribute towards anxiety, depression and other mood disorders.

However, whilst it’s true that there is little those with chronic illness can do to ease the challenges that they face, dealing with these challenges day in, day out, means we also start to become very resilient people. And the more resilient we become, the more we can accept what is going on in our lives which can make the mental toll feel lighter. Additionally, this resilience can help us to try and develop a strong support network, trying to seek out others who understand what life is like, who make us feel less alone in our journey. 

Trying to reach out of help from others is something that’s really difficult, yet also something that everyone should try to do. It can be invaluable in providing additional support for the emotional impact that chronic illness causes. Engaging in therapy or counselling can help you develop skills and coping mechanisms that will help you in the day to day struggles, and support groups can give connection and help you form relationships with people who truly get it. All of this can also help you begin to feel more compassionate towards yourself, can help push you more towards acceptance of your situation.

Living with chronic illness is a journey full of obstacles, but is also testament to the resilience of those who struggle. It’s completely understandable that having a long-term illness has a big impact on mental health and can cause huge struggles – I think anyone who suddenly lost their sense of self and their previous life would start to struggle too. 

Finally, to anyone trying to navigate the unpredictability of chronic illness life, remember this: your struggles are valid, people do see your pain (and are exactly the kind of people you need in your life), and you have more resilience than you think you do. You are not defined by your illness, even when it dominates your life, but by the courage that you show when you get up and face life day after day.

All my love,

Anna x

Behind Closed Doors

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A question I’ve been asked a lot before is ‘what is life like on a psychiatric ward?’ and I don’t think there’s a description I can give that fully sums it up. It changes from ward to ward, patient group to patient group and things like ward dynamics, staff, type of ward and outside influences can change how things are dramatically. For example, the ward I’m currently on is in the process of being completely split into a male ward and a female ward so there is a lot of building work going on. This means that it’s loud, busy and often overwhelming. It has definitely impacted how this admission has been compared to when I was here 4 years ago. But I’ll try and describe what life can be like on wards – this is purely based on my experiences as a patient (and former staff member – I used to work as a HCA at a Priory hospital so I can comment based on that experience too). It’s also important to note that I am referring to acute wards (the most common type of ward) as this is the only kind of ward I have experience of – I am not talking about PICU, secure services, rehabilitation wards etc which all have very different presentations too.

This is fairly typical of modern bedrooms on psychiatric wards – obviously not all wards will look like this, but it was a picture that seems fairly in line with my experience of wards.

Thinking about psychiatric wards can feel like you step into a world that is covered in a veil of mystery, yet also stigma. Patients are kept behind locked doors and, unless you are admitted yourself, or are visiting someone on a ward, things are neatly hidden away. That is, unless a patient absconds, but that’s a whole other kettle of fish and something I’ll leave for another day. So what is life like behind these closed doors? Psychiatric wards serve as a safe space for individuals experiencing mental health crisis and offer a degree of support and treatment for a wide range of mental health conditions. The experience of life on a ward varies hugely from patient to patient, especially as we are all so unique and are all presenting in different ways, yet there are some common threads that tie the experience together.

I think one of the biggest misconceptions about psychiatric wards is that you go in unwell and come out better. On NHS wards in particular there is a big absence of therapeutic work available to patients as this kind of long-term work typically comes in the community (or rehabilitation wards such as those that specialise in trauma therapy or DBT). It’s not that common for wards to have regular therapeutic interventions from psychologists, although in some cases this does happen. I, for example, have just been offered 4/5 weeks of weekly sessions with a psychologist to complete a formulation that will hopefully help to prepare me for discharge. However, the therapy that I really need – trauma work – will come when I am in the community and stable enough to fully engage in it. Patients will typically be discharged once they have stabilised to a degree that they are no longer in acute crisis, but this does not mean that they are well, or even that they are stable by ‘normal’ standards – they are stable enough to be discharged.

Often there is an activities programme put together by the activity coordinators and occupational therapists that work on the ward and this can provide a welcome distraction from the mundane life that patients are forced to experience. This can include things like film nights, cooking sessions, baking, playing games, having coffee mornings, having access to an art room and visits from PAT dogs (I did, of course, save the best until last!) They may also offer things like mindfulness sessions and individual sessions with OT’s to work on individual goals. Programmes like this do help as they engage patients to a degree and get them used to regularly engaging in groups, as well as mixing with other patients (something I’ll come to in a minute). Engaging in groups also shows the MDT that you are working with staff and will work in your favour when it comes to things like requesting leave and, eventually, discharge.

One of the ‘nicest’ aspects of life on a psychiatric ward is the opportunity to make connections with other patients – after all, you are spending all day, every day in the same, fairly confined, space and so you do often get to know each other quite quickly. This isn’t always the case, though, as it does depend on the patient group at the time and how well you ‘gel’ with other patients. However, when connections are forged, they are often deep and meaningful. After all, you understand the difficulties of being in crisis and what life is like with mental illness, may have similar diagnoses, and can empathise with the difficulties of being stuck on a ward, shut away from the outside world. There’s also the opportunity for peer support, as patients can share their experiences and give advice based on situations they have found themselves in – I know I find it much more reassuring when I’m hearing things from someone who truly understands what my life can be like as there is that empathy underlying the discussions.

I was actually having a discussion with a patient the other day. We are fairly similar in age which is always nice, and seem to have a good relationship despite only knowing each other for a matter of days. We were sat in the quiet lounge (trying to escape the hectic nature of the ward at the moment – building work and loud patients aren’t always the best combination for two individuals who need to have quiet time!) and got chatting about our lives and how we ended up on the ward. And as each of us spoke, we found it really easy to slip in different pieces of advice, as well as stories from our lives to hopefully encourage the other. This isn’t always how things happen on wards, however, but it’s a nice bonus when it does!

Something that I think is probably fairly common, yet also not, across wards is the sense of rigidity and routine – it can often feel like there is no routine or structure on a ward, and whilst that can be the case at times, when you take a step back and look at the day as a whole you will find that there is actually a lot of routine and structure. Medications are given at the same time (roughly) daily, meals are always at the same time, groups tend to happen at the same time each week and you have your ward round at the same time weekly as well. When you aren’t able to engage in groups or they aren’t available it definitely feels like there is no structure at all – you seem to aimlessly float around, maybe sitting in the communal area for a change of scenery, but certainly not feeling like there is any semblance of structure to your day. But some of this does give patients a feeling of predictability and order – they know their meds are coming or that lunch is coming up – in a world that can feel so unpredictable and messy.

I could probably go on and on with stories from my admissions, comparing different wards and just generally rambling, but  I’ll draw to a close here. Overall, life behind the closed doors of a psychiatric ward is a complex, interconnected web with so many different threads that draw together. It can vary so much from place to place or time to time but I think that the overall aim is for wards to be places of safety for people experiencing crisis where they can stabilise to a degree before returning to ‘normal’ life to continue their recovery. I hope that by talking about the reality of life on a psychiatric ward it can do a few things: dispel some of the myths and misconceptions that people might have, shed some light on what life is really like whilst an inpatient on an acute adult psychiatric ward, and also foster greater empathy, compassion and support for those who are struggling with their mental health. Whilst we have made great improvements in the understanding and acceptance of mental health in recent years, there is still a lot of stigma that needs to be removed and it is talking that will help to lessen this stigma even more. 

All my love,

Anna x

It’s Been a While

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I don’t have many photos from the last few months but this is one of the happier ones, one where I was starting to feel a little more content with the situation at that time.

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted on this blog, and so much has happened in my life – I could write for days about it all, but I’ll spare you. I thought, to ease myself back in, I’d share something I recently posted on Facebook – a testimony of sorts. It’ll give you some insight into where I disappeared to and the kind of things that have been going on. So here you are… enjoy!

(This post includes topics of suicide, hospital and acute illness (both physical and mental) so please don’t read on if this might affect you negatively in any way!)

It’s been a little over three months since I was admitted to hospital, yet it feels like a lifetime ago since the police intervened and took me to the local Place of Safety.

It’s a weird one, being suicidal and wanting life to end, whilst also believing in truths from the Bible such as the familiar verse, Jeremiah 29:11 where we’re told “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.” Those things are seemingly in contradiction with one another – because if I believe what God has to say, all of this is somehow part of his plan and I need to wait and see how it all slots into place. It’s just hard holding on to that when your mental health is at rock bottom as it feels like something that has to be so far removed from God’s plan for life. I know he doesn’t get pleasure out of it, that it breaks his heart when we are in situations like this – so why do we end up in them? It’s difficult to wrap your head around.

Just after Christmas I was transferred from the Psychiatric Hospital I was sectioned to, to the local general hospital. I was pretty physically unwell – depression has ruined my appetite lately and I’ve found it near on impossible to eat anything. When I was moved I had extremely low blood sugar and was ketoacidotic. And very soon the conversation turned to NG feeding. Most of you will know that I have a difficult history with tube feeding – I spent 6 months back in 2019 with an NG tube being fed against my will and it was the most traumatic, difficult 6 months of my life. When they bought it up I prayed ‘God, I can’t do this again. I need a sign that you’re here with me.’ Nothing. I carried on praying this over the next couple of days, even more so when the NG tube was placed. Still nothing.

On day three of NG feeding the doctors came round to see me and told me I had refeeding syndrome. This is when your body tries to metabolise nutrients again but there are severe shifts in body chemistry which are related to electrolyte deficiencies. It caused a whole host of problems for me including low phosphate levels, low magnesium levels, low potassium levels and caused symptoms including muscle weakness, nausea, abnormal heart rhythms, fatigue, muscle cramps and low blood pressure. Again, I prayed ‘why, God? I really can’t do this.’ Again, I got nothing.

But the icing on the cake for me, was on New Years Eve. All of a sudden I began to feel incredibly unwell, completely out of the blue. My temperature shot up to 40.3, my blood pressure dropped dangerously low and I felt like my heart was going to come out of my chest. Doctors came to see me and said that they suspected that I had Sepsis which, by that point, I think I thought as well. I was seen by the Intensive Care Outreach team multiple times a day and 2 days later my blood cultures came back showing that I did, in fact, have Sepsis again. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so unwell – I had the worst headache that radiated down to the bottom of my neck and for 3 days I couldn’t move at all. My blood pressure refused to come up and I was still spiking fevers. I continued to pray ‘God, I really need that sign because this just feels like one thing after another and I really need a break.’ Yet still there was nothing.

Then, as I was starting to feel a little more human I spoke to one of the hospital chaplains (and by spoke to, what I really mean is sobbed at). We had a really good chat and I explained that I’d spent the last 2 weeks asking God for a sign because it was the one thing I really needed. She asked me if I knew of the poem ‘Footprints in the Sand’ which I do. And all of a sudden things started to slot into place. She reminded me that the poem says “The times when you have seen only one set of footprints, my child, is when I carried you.” So, that set me off into a crying mess again. Because that was my sign. Later that day, as I lay in bed I prayed, only this time it was different as all I could say, over and over again, was ‘God, thank you for carrying me through.’

Things aren’t somehow better now, I’m still struggling and still sectioned in hospital but I remind myself every day that even though things are hard, God is carrying me and will continue to carry me. And my prayer is still ‘God, thank you for carrying me through.’

All my love,

Anna x