Imagine your head is one of those pirate ship rides. You know the ones that go up and down one way and the next. I felt like that for so long. When I get to the point of being mentally unwell, the pirate ship is high and thriving to stomach-ache level. My thoughts are scattered and impulsive and I feel trapped on it, belt-tight.
I’ve been on home leave this weekend, overnight. When I say it went “so well”, I don’t mean that anything amazing happened. But I felt the ship gently swaying instead of joltingly. And that means a lot to me. I just existed in a way that felt nice: me and Hagrid (my dog) went on our same longer familiar walking route, that I missed, I went for a coffee with a friend and existed the rest of the time. The thing is though, when coming back to the ward I have to isolate in my room. They changed the COVID restrictions. The thought of that depresses me, but as I type here on the window sill near my room instead, I’m grateful that I’ve been ‘sort of’ allowed to do so if I wear a mask. There is something about sitting on a window sill. (the ones with the sofa-type window seat)
Yesterday, I received some lovely bright flowers as a thank you. I was recently involved with the shortlisting of the local college winning an award, partially because my artwork has been used on the site. The digital art I did last year or so on the theme of body image, and promoting a positive sense of self, was blown up and put in the girls’ toilets. Apparently there’s been a few students sharing it on social media and saying how they relate. That’s an amazing feeling. I really hope the college do win.