Mental Health Awareness Week 2019

So this week is mental health awareness week - so I thought I'd share my journey:

I started suffering the age of sixteen. I started showing symptoms of crohns disease from the age of four; but I wasn't diagnosed until almost eighteen. I was in a room with a gastroenterologist consultant who said I was lying for attention. I was lay naked whilst she checked my body for signs of self harm and asking me questions like 'do you starve yourself to look good?', 'do you get the least amount of attention in your house?', 'have you ever been sexually abused', the list went on. I was crying and begging her to believe there was something wrong with me and I'm not an attention seeker. She agreed to one final colonoscopy as long as I agreed to see a psychiatrist 'when it comes back clear'.
As strange as it may seem - being diagnosed the day of that colonoscopy (which was performed by a different consultant) was one of the happiest moments of my life. It came back showing severe inflammation in some parts of the intestines as well as terminal ileum disease.
Waiting fourteen years for a diagnosis was obviously extremely difficult for me. Being ill as a child was difficult. I had some family members question if I was telling the truth or not when I stayed over their house. I remember when i was staying at my auntie and uncles house one night and I was called a baby because I kept complaining about my belly hurting. It wasn't until my auntie came back from work after midnight that I went downstairs and she stayed up with me until I fell asleep. There's other memories, too. But my parents and sister saw first hand what it did and they believed me which was the most important to me.
I don't think anyone with a chronic illness or loves someone with a chronic illness lives without mental health illness.
I felt guilty every day being so unwell when my mom was suffering, too. I felt like a constant burden to her when she was in so much pain herself. Just like she confessed to me later in life that she would feel guilty for not doing as much as she wanted for me and my sister when she had bad days.
I was in a long relationship where I was told constantly I needed to stay with him because noone else would have me. And also if I left him then I'd lose my son because social services would deem me unfit due to my physical and mental health.
There's so many times when I've been lay in hospital in pain and I've wanted it all to end. There's been so many times when I've felt like people don't understand how it feels.
Worst my mental health has ever been is when my mom passed away. I stopped cleaning the house, I stopped bathing, I stopped washing my hair, I didn't eat properly.
It's no secret that my son is the only thing that keeps me going and he's the reason I'm alive today. But I'm grateful of that because I'm in a much better place now and I'm so glad I never gave up. Am I ever going to be a hundred percent? No. But as long as I have my son and people in my life who love me: I know I'll be okay.