I’ve put it off for years.

Whenever I’ve gone through a low point, I’ve reasoned that I just couldn’t afford to get private help.

But as I recently looked at the pile of Amazon and Zara boxes littering my bedroom, I knew I couldn’t justify that as a legitimate excuse any more.

I’m not rolling in money, but if I could find enough to spoil my cats and buy new clothes, then I knew I could and should be putting some aside for my mental health.

I’d been using money as an excuse, when in actuality I just didn’t want to open Pandora’s box.

I’ve suffered with diagnosable mental health issues in the past – like depression and PTSD – and sought psychological support, but when it’s come to dealing with my general world-weariness, I haven’t prioritised seeking help.

There’s a general feeling that unless you have serious mental health issues, you should just put up with it, but I know now that I deserve better than that.

I first started experiencing issues with my mental health in college, where I struggled with depression and feelings of isolation due to my disability and body image concerns.

I sought help but unfortunately my NHS therapist and I just didn’t gel. Instead, I waded through the fog alone until it lifted.

Unfortunately, a couple of years later I was in a horrendous car crash  and I found myself back with a new counsellor to try and build up my confidence in order to face re-entering a vehicle.

The therapy I received from the NHS lasted between four and six sessions and I felt it wasn’t enough.

Thankfully I made it through that trauma, but my underwhelming experience of counselling and lack of current diagnosis has made me reluctant to seek support since.

I’ve lost my mojo, my spark and my enthusiasm, I feel flat and have done for some time now.

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I lost it or where it’s gone but if it’s hanging out on a beach in the Bahamas I’ll be royally miffed off.

I want it all back because I don’t feel complete and it’s a rather unsettling situation to find myself in.

But unlike before, when I had tangible problems like isolation and trauma, this funk seems a lot more nebulous. As a result, I’ve been scared of pursuing therapy – even though I know this is an issue I’ve experienced on and off throughout my entire life.

I have always felt overwhelmed by the world – I guess having a disability and growing up as a child with a condition that resulted in lots of hospital trips, clinical smells, grown up talk mixed in with invasive and often very painful treatments meant that everything felt too much for my young, developing mind to take.

I’ve also battled with ‘Weltschmerz’ – translated to ‘the pain of the world’ – and feeling too intensely.

I’d watch Armageddon and not sleep for weeks due to worrying that the world would end. I struggle watching the news or reading about atrocities, and my Weltschmerz hit its peak during the pandemic.

I couldn’t catch my breath because I felt so completely overwhelmed.

It left me with a hole like I’d never felt before as I saw first-hand how disabled people were being treated – one in six Covid deaths were from the disability community.

The sheer apathy from many about safeguarding people like me made me feel completely unsafe and alone.

In some ways, the pandemic – and how all-encompassing it has been – was the thing that spurred me on to seek help.

This time I mean business!

I’ve now learned that safeguarding your mental wellbeing shouldn’t just be the result of some major life affirming or defining moment – making yourself a priority should be 365 days a year.

On the whole I’m rather happy – I have two amazing cats who make me laugh every day without fail. I have just released a book and feel so proud of where I am in my career.

This weekend I sat with a hot chocolate, looking at the pumpkin display on my dining table and the bright red/orange maple leaves in my vase feeling content.

But you can be happy, successful and feel loved but still need time to talk to someone, still feel like you can just say, ‘something isn’t quite right and I want to explore why I feel this way.’

Now I truly believe I owe it to myself to heal but more importantly see this healing process as a journey and not simply a destination.

I’ve booked an appointment with a therapist and I know that I have taken the first step in working my way out of the funk.

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