My very first Blog Post

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Hindsight.”

“Hindsight. Now that you’ve got some blogging experience under your belt, re-write your very first blog post”

I don’t usually look back on previous posts, but lately a number of people have commented on changes they have seen happening within me. I went in search of those changes and ended up back at the beginning, my first blog post.  I will say a bit about the changes at the end of the post

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Blog post from May 2013

This feels a bit like being the new kid on the block, unsure what to say, yet eager to make a good impression. I imagine most people who start out blogging, are uncertain where to begin. It’s funny, really, even though it’s an anonymous space, I still worry what other’s might think. Will I have the courage to be completely honest?

There are two main reasons for starting this blog. The first is to improve my love for writing and the second is to change my cowardly view of therapy. There is so much I need to face up to, but I’m not brave when it comes to therapeutic environments. The thought of reliving those experiences, feeling vulnerable and even traumatised AND in front of a Therapist, make me want to run and hide back inside my bubble. I thought a blog might be a good place start.

My life right now is at a dead end and has been for a very long time. I’ve dug myself so deep, I can barely see daylight. The initial solitude came from a mental breakdown many years ago, which steadily evolved into isolation and estrangement from family and friends. You could say I’m wrapped up in cotton wool, terrified of re-joining life again.

I opted out of life by mistake, but for reasons you would perfectly understand. Too many bad things have happened, some I brought upon myself, while others were out of my control. Everyone knows that we really need to feel motivated before we can bring about change, but my main obstacle is feeling too comfortable in this familiar isolation. I’m too afraid of going forward to ask for help and more shit-scared of therapy, even though it is probably the only feasible route from where I am today.

This past while – I would hate to admit how long – life has been bleak. While I’m not exactly suicidal – which is a big change in itself – I am living with severe depression. The flatness and continual apathy are soul-destroying. I barely leave home and don’t really communicate much with anyone. It feels like I’m locked within myself.

I can’t help but feel ashamed of how life turned out. It’s embarrassing to admit where I am now and how I got here, but hey, I’ve got to start somewhere. I am here to face up to the present moment by exorcising the demons from the past and hope to find other’s to share in the journey.

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The posts that followed over the next 18 months revealed parts of my life that were buried deep within the dark recesses of my mind. Through that blogging process, the acceptance and validation from fellow-bloggers helped disperse the humiliation and self-blame that is common amongst survivors of child abuse. The courage and strength I gained from reading other people’s blogs was immense. Subsequently, I pushed forward and asked for help from the local Community Mental Health Team, which quickly improved my depression by appropriate medication. The newfound feeling of wellbeing provided enough enthusiasm to enrol in a number of courses at the Recovery College. Exactly one year from writing that first post, I applied for the one thing I had dreaded the most, therapy.

I no longer feel ashamed of how my life evolved because I defy anyone to face what I did and then come out the other side unscathed. Of course, there is still baggage from the past that I need to off load before I can confidently “take flight,” but I’m now in the 6^th month of my two-year therapy programme, so I have every faith in the future.

Lastly, I could say there is still considerable anxiety about “re-joining life”, but then I think, ‘hey, is that not what I’m already doing?’