I wanted to share some snippets of pages from my notebooks and sketchbooks. Most of these pages are from 2017, around three years after I was first diagnosed with BPD. I'm putting them on my blog because I want these pages to come up for air.
And by coming up for air I mean I want my narrative of hope to be made material. I often write that things changed. So let me show you how it looked for me before.
I used to think I was shameful for wanting to speak my truth. But now I know there is nothing wrong with wanting to share your reality. Your words matter, just as your life matters. You deserve to be listened to.
I used to find it hard to know who to speak to, when to speak and how. I carried silence around with me, but my silence was screaming in my ears constantly.
Sometimes I tried to speak about some things, but this didn't always go to plan. It hurt when someone didn't take me seriously or judged me. It made me even more scared to speak up in the future.
I spent a great deal of time agonising over how I would be seen if I were to speak about my reality. I think many people with more stigmatised mental health conditions (or other aspects of identifies) may relate.
I needed to summon a huge amount of courage because speaking my truth was terrifying. I needed people around me who I could trust to pick me off the floor if speaking up went wrong.
This crow features in lots of my drawings. The crow is my symbol of fear and shame. Keeping my difficulties a secret made them grow which is one the reasons why I decided I didn't want to stay silent any longer.
I wrote out a lot of flowcharts trying to work out myself, others and my life. I spent a great deal of time thinking about talking. As a person with less well-understood mental health problems this theme has always been a huge theme for me. The tension between silence and speaking is probably the biggest tension in my life, even today.
Some of my writing, like this snippet above, is painful to look at. The helplessness and hopelessness was desperate at times. Writing and drawing made it bearable for me.
Today I write because I love it, not because I need it to keep me alive. Life is so wildly different now. I know it can be wildly different for you too. I'm here and I won't ever forget those days and how they shaped me into who I am.
-Rosie x
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