This week, we welcome back the brilliant Sarah Myers. And we’re going to hand over to her… I am tired of crying – my head hurts and I feel sick. Maybe a cup of tea will help. And I still need to fill out that autism assessment form. My blister is about to burst, so I should tend to it. Wait, Simon Farnaby just Tweeted, better check what he said. He’s brilliant, and that reminds me that I need to book my coach ticket before I forget again. And, the cat needs to move off my feet before the pins and needles start… never mind. You may feel the need to re-read that, or perhaps you already did, in order to try and understand my point. But there is no point, and that is the point. Okay, maybe I am, but bear with me. I have read multiple articles regarding mental health and the advice given. So much information put forth in terms of support networks and experiences. Everybody seems to know exactly what you should do, or what their own issues are and what helped them. But what about those of us who literally have no idea? I struggle to accurately explain what I am thinking. Partly because I don’t always know, myself. Sometimes because the thoughts are dark and overwhelming so I try to ignore them. The rest of my thoughts are often thrown around like the debris picked up by a tornado, with no real pattern or connection. And emotions are alien to me. I understand the concept, and as a human I have feelings, but do not expect me to explain or understand what they are. If I find myself crying, I use logic to try and work out why that is. I have to assess my current situation against what happened over the past 24 hours, or remind myself of conversations. Only then can I begin to put a mental jigsaw puzzle together to try and work out if I am sad, frustrated, angry, or scared. I just don’t know. I don’t know myself. Why do I bother? Surely I am not alone in this, am I? Are there others out there who struggle to navigate, understand, or explain their thoughts and feelings? I hope so – and that is why I am writing this. To not feel so alone. To say you are not alone. To say that sometimes there is no easy answer or explanation. And to say keep going. But, no, I don’t want to quit. I have nieces and nephews that keep me grounded. I have a cat who depends on me. I have another event on the horizon that may annoy Simon Farnaby with my presence. And I want to keep trying in the hope that one day everything will click into place. It is okay to feel hopeless, and it is normal to read articles and think ‘I don’t know… maybe it makes sense’. Articles are tailored to the writer more than the reader, so don’t be disheartened when the advice given seems clichéd or confusing. I probably haven’t explained this very well. And that is okay. I have no answers. That is also okay. I do not know where to get that help. And that is not okay. I have no point. And that is my point. Thank you, as always, for reading…
