Tag: Mental Health

The Power of Being Different – Finding Yourself in Elphaba and Glinda

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The last time I was lucky enough to see Wicked on their UK tour – I treated myself to front row seats and loved every second!

It’s no secret that I love the musical Wicked – I’ve been lucky enough to see it 7 times and seen 5 amazing Elphaba’s and 6 incredible Glinda’s perform. I used to dream of performing in a West End pit orchestra (and still do if I’m being honest) and Wicked would definitely be my dream show. I absolutely adore every part of it.

When we think of Elphaba and Glinda, it is easy to see them as opposites. Elphaba, the misunderstood outsider stands in direct contrast to Glinda, the sparkling picture of popularity. But the truth is far more nuanced than this. I think everyone has an inner Elphaba and Glinda – often one side more pronounced than the other, but there nonetheless. They’re not just fictional characters; they are symbols, mirrors for the parts of ourself we often hide or struggle to embrace.

Elphaba: For the Misfits and the Rebels

Elphaba is for every person who has felt like they don’t belong, like they’re too much or not enough all at once. She is for the ones who see the world differently and refuse to accept it as it is. She represents the misunderstood, the outcasts, and the rebels who dare to question the rules.

She is for:

  • Every undiagnosed autistic girl who never quite fit in
  • Every child who was labelled “too much” for simply being themselves
  • Every loner who found refuge in books, dreams, or the stars
  • Every person who stood up for what’s right, even if it meant standing alone
  • Everyone who has learned to find power in the very things other people tried to shame them for

Elphaba reminds us that being different isn’t a curse – it’s a gift. Her story is a testament to the strength it takes to stay true to yourself in a world that demands conformity.

Glinda: For the Dreamers and the Evolving

Glinda, on the other hand, is for the ones who thought they had to play by the rules to be loved. She represents the perfectionists, the people-pleasers, and the dreamers who eventually learn that authenticity matters more than appearance.

She is for:

  • Every girl who thought fitting in was the only way to matter
  • Every person who hid their insecurities behind charm and a dazzling smile
  • Every perfectionist who learned that growth comes from vulnerability
  • Everyone who discovered that true power lies not in being adored, but in being brave
  • Every friend who realised that love isn’t about staying the same, but growing together

Glinda shows us that it is never too late to rewrite your story. She reminds us that even the most sparkling facade can hide a heart searching for something real – and that transformation is possible.

Elphaba and Glinda teach us that there is no single way to be strong, no one path to belonging. Elphaba’s defiance shows us the power of staying true to ourselves, while Glinda’s evolution reminds us that growth and change are part of the journey. Together, they challenge us to embrace both our shadows and our light, our flaws and our potential.

Whether you see yourself in Elphaba’s fierce independence, or Glinda’s journey to authenticity – or perhaps a little of both – their stories are for all of us. They remind us that the labels the world gives us don’t define who we are. What matters is how we choose to rise, love, and grow despite them.

So, who are you today? The rebel standing tall against the storm? The dreamer learning to let go of perfection? Maybe, like Elphaba and Glinda, you are a little bit of both – and that’s where the magic truly happens.

All my love,

Anna x

Mourning the Life You Expected

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I’ve written about the grief that accompanies chronic illness before, but it’s a topic that I often come back to because it is something that has been so prevalent in my life.

Living with chronic illness often comes with a deep sense of loss. It isn’t just the physical symptoms that affect your day-to-day life, but also the realisation that the life you imagined for yourself might never come to fruition. This feeling of loss can manifest as grief, a complex emotional process that many people with chronic illness experience.

Grief isn’t just something that is limited to the death of a loved one. People often grieve the loss of:

Physical abilities – the things you once took for granted like running, dancing, walking, might now feel or become impossible.

Independence – it’s hard when you have to suddenly rely on other people for help doing tasks that you would have previously handled independently with no problems. This is something that can feel incredibly vulnerable.

Future plans – you might have to give up on career goals, travel plans, or family aspirations, or at the very least, adjust your expectations of what you can realistically manage.

Sense of identity – chronic illness can force you to redefine who you are and how you see yourself. This is something that I have struggled with a lot – who am I without the things that I can no longer do. Who am I if I’m not studying or working?

Grief doesn’t follow a linear pattern at all. There are stages of grief that people go through but the order and time it takes varies massively from person to person. The five stages that people are said to experience are as follows:

Denial – “This can’t be happening to me.” You might ignore symptoms or resist a diagnosis.

Anger – “Why me?” It is completely natural to feel frustration and resentment about your situation!

Bargaining – “If I do everything that the doctors are telling me to do, maybe I’ll get better.” This stage also often involves clinging on to the possibility of a cure or treatment that will make life bearable.

Depression – “What’s the point?” Sadness and hopelessness can feel incredibly overwhelming.

Acceptance – “This is my reality but it doesn’t have to define me.” Accepting your situation doesn’t mean that you like your situation, rather that you are finding ways to move forward despite your diagnosis and struggles.

So, what can you do help cope with these feelings of grief?

You should allow yourself to feel your feelings. Don’t try to bury them because this isn’t going to help and will likely make things more difficult in the long run. It can also help to connect with other people who understand what life with chronic illness is like – I’m very lucky to have found communities on Facebook and Instagram that have allowed me to meet other people in similar situations to myself.

Therapy can also be a very helpful tool. I have been seeing a counsellor for 4 years and she has been my lifeline, offering me a safe space to explore my feelings around my illness. Through therapy I have learned how to be more compassionate towards myself and to respect my body’s limitations. I now respond with kindness when I’m having bad days as I’ve learned that punishing myself is not going to be beneficial.

Grief doesn’t mean giving up – it means making space to acknowledge your losses but also the new opportunities that might arise as a result. Chronic illness may alter your life dramatically, yes, but it doesn’t erase who you are as a person. And it doesn’t have to get rid of your potential for growth, connection, and happiness.

All my love,

Anna x

Post Your Pill – Why There is No Shame in Taking Psychiatric Medication

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Three years ago Dr Alex George decided to post a picture of himself holding the medication that he takes for his mental health. The idea behind it was to challenge the stigma around medication and mental health. When he first started taking medication he felt ashamed – a feeling that so many people have felt at the prospect of needing medication to help manage their mental health. Since then thousands and thousands of people have also joined in, posting pictures of their medication on the 1st of every month in an attempt to help remove the shame and stigma associated with meds.

I used to think that taking psychiatric medication was something to be ashamed of. I worried it made me ‘weak’ or demonstrated that I wasn’t trying hard enough. There was a part of me that believed that I should simply ‘push through’ and try to manage on my own. But here’s the truth: there is NO shame in taking medication for your mental health. Those thoughts that I had were planted by a society that still stigmatises mental health struggles and the tools we use to manage them.

When someone needs glasses to see clearly, insulin to manage diabetes or an inhaler because they have asthma, there is no hesitation. We simply accept that they need medication to help. So why is there so much stigma around mental health medication? Your brain is just as much a part of your body as any other organ and, sometimes, you need extra help.

Psychiatric medication doesn’t change who you are as a person. It doesn’t erase your personality or take away your emotions. It simply helps to create space for you to be more yourself.

Medication for mental health is just a different part of the ‘toolkit’ you can use to manage your mental health, just like talking therapy is a different way to benefit yourself. It doesn’t get rid of your struggles or do the work for you, but it does help make things more manageable. It can clear the fog long enough for you to engage in support like therapy and to help you implement the tools that you need in your day-to-day life. For some people it is medication that can get you to a point where you can get out of bed in the morning. For others it helps to lessen the anxiety that you feel or to manage unwanted thoughts and feelings.

It’s not a perfect process by any stretch of the imagination either. Finding the right medication and dosage can take a long time – I tried 11 different medications at various doses and for varying lengths of time before landing on a combination that works for me. I still struggle, and it doesn’t really help lift my mood much, but it definitely helps prevent me from hitting rock bottom. And choosing to explore the option of medication and being open to the possibility of taking meds isn’t a failure, it’s another way of saying “I deserve to feel better, and I am willing to try whatever it takes.”

Meds don’t come without potential complications, either. They can make things worse to begin with, and they take a while to fully kick in. There are also potential side effects to contend with (and sometimes additional meds needed to combat various side effects) or withdrawals if you are coming off a medication you’ve taken for a long time. But by acknowledging that you deserve to feel better you are deciding that your mental health matters and that you are wanting to take care of yourself. This isn’t a sign of weakness – it’s a sign of incredible strength.

If you’re on medication for your mental health, considering it, or simply curious about what it could do for you, remember this: there is no right or wrong way to look after your mental health. Some people find healing in therapy, some by exercising, some by taking medication. Often it is a combination of different approaches that can make the most difference. And if you’re feeling hesitant or alone because of the stigma, know that you are not alone. Here is what I wish I could tell my younger self:

Taking care of your mental health – however that may be – is an act of love. You are not weak. You are not broken. You are brave, resilient, and deserving of every tool available to help you live the life you want.

So, let’s keep talking about this. Let’s challenge the stigma and remind each other that there’s no shame in doing what you need to feel better. Because you – and your mental health – are worth it.

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

Not Your Time

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Content Warning: This post talks about suicide. Although no details are given please be mindful of this and don’t read on if this is something that might be triggering for you!

Have you ever had someone say to you, “It’s clearly not your time,” after a suicide attempt? If you have, you probably know how cliche it sounds. Those words can feel empty, as though they’re meant to close a conversation rather than open one. Yet, as much as I’ve resisted the phrase, I can’t deny the weight it holds in my own life. After surviving multiple attempts to die – despite every intention to leave this world – I’ve been forced to confront the possibility that those words might carry a truth I hadn’t been willing to see.

I’ve tried. Many times. In moments of despair, I’ve done everything within my power to end the pain. And every single time, something has stopped in from happening. Maybe it was an intervention of a friend, the police or hospital staff, or a twist of fate that kept me alive. Maybe it was sheer luck, or as I’ve come to consider more and more, maybe it was because it wasn’t part of the plan that God has for my life.

The idea that survival is part of a greater plan is as difficult to accept as it is to dismiss. If I believe that God has a purpose for my life – and some part of me does – then surviving when I was ready to die suggests that my story isn’t over yet. If my time had come, wouldn’t I have succeeded? Wouldn’t I finally have found that escape?

But believing in that purpose doesn’t make the pain vanish. If anything, it complicates things. I’ve found myself asking why God would keep me here, struggling, when I was so ready to let go. What possible reason could justify the agony that led me to those moments in the first place? It’s a question I don’t have an answer to – at least, not yet.

If you’re reading this, maybe you’ve asked yourself similar questions. Maybe you’ve also faced moments when death seemed like the only way out. And maybe, like me, you’re still here, unsure of why. Here’s the conclusion I’ve started to reach: survival might not feel like a gift in the moment, but it’s an invitation to keep going. To keep searching. To keep asking what’s next.

When I think about the times I’ve survived, I realise that those moments weren’t random. They were filled with small interventions – a text from a friend, a hug from a family member that I so desperately needed, the police turning up at exactly the right moment to stop me doing something I wouldn’t be able to undo. Those moments weren’t the answers to all my questions, but they were signposts pointing me toward something bigger.

Wrestling with God’s Plan

If you believe, as I do, that God has a plan for each of us, then the idea that “it’s not your time” takes on a heavier, more significant meaning. If God has kept me here through all of this, then it would stand to reason that my time to leave this world is not now – because if it were, I would be gone. Period.

But it’s hard to reconcile the pain and hopelessness that drive someone to attempt suicide with the concept of a loving God who is guiding everything. It can feel cruel. Why keep me here, God, if it hurts this much? Why not let me go when I was so ready, so certain?

I don’t know exactly what God’s plan for me looks like. But I’ve started to think that surviving is part of it. Being here, despite everything, is part of it. And maybe writing this, sharing this, is part of it too.

“It’s still clearly not your time” still sounds cliche to me. It probably always will. But maybe the reason it’s such a persistent phrase is because there’s a deep truth buried in it. If you’ve survived something you didn’t think you could survive, it’s worth considering that there might be a reason for that. Not in a shallow, sugar-coated way, but in a profound, weighty way that calls up to look deeper into our lives and our purpose.

So here I am, still trying to figure it all out. Still asking questions. Still frustrated. But also still here. And if you’re reading this, you’re still here too. Maybe that’s worth something. Maybe that’s worth everything.

‘But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” – 2 Corinthians 12:9

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

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