Posted on January 1, 2026
TW: pet loss, pet death, depression.
I had hoped to get this up on Christmas Eve – like I used to – but given everything that’s been going on with my mental and physical health and the resulting fatigue, I’m not writing as quickly or as effortlessly as I have done in the past. But fast or slow, writing down my thoughts helps me to reflect and, considering how extreme the highs and lows of this year have been, some reflection – especially on the good things in my life – has helped me to feel more grounded as the year ends.
MY MUM – I’m always grateful for my Mum but I couldn’t have imagined the ups and downs of this year if I’d tried and I absolutely couldn’t have gotten through them without her. Between Daisy (my Autism Assistance Dog) moving in and getting settled, the difficulties and stress surrounding releasing new music, music and conference commitments, chronic pain and illness flare ups, a pinched nerve, a hospital visit, and a debilitating mystery illness (which, thankfully, has now been demystified and I’m starting to recover from), she has been an anchor, a touchstone, and a source of endless support. And considering the busy year she’s had, I’m so beyond grateful that I don’t know how to fully express it. I just know that there’s no way I could’ve survived this year without her.
MY PARENTS – With everything going on this year, I’m so grateful to have had the support and encouragement of my parents. Everyone’s had a lot to deal with – it’s certainly not been the easiest twelve months – but they’ve still been there for celebration and every challenge that this year has brought. They’ve been so supportive of everything I’ve taken on this year – and not just mine: they’ve been champions of my friends and their projects too, which I couldn’t love them more for.
THE TIME I HAD WITH LUCY – I still feel so deeply sad and the house feels so lonely without Lucy but I would never give up the time I had with Lucy; I will always be grateful for every moment I had with her, even at the end when it was so distressing – for all of us. She was with me through so much hard stuff, through so much growing up, and coming home to her was always so comforting. She was so special – so sweet and affectionate and sensitive – and she’ll always have a special place in my heart; I’ll always love her more than I can properly explain. Nothing I say feels like it’s enough. I miss her more than I know what to do with and I still feel more than a bit lost and untethered without her at the centre of the house.

THE FAMILY OF CATS – Between the arrival of Daisy early in the year, the loss of Lucy, my health issues, and the summer months when they’re almost entirely in the garden, home has felt very much in flux and I haven’t seen as much of my little family of cats as I would’ve liked and that’s been really hard. It was also incredibly scary to find out that Sweep, one of the youngest generation, suddenly needed a really big surgery, especially so soon after Lucy had had to be put to sleep. But fortunately, it went really well and she recovered beautifully, if impatiently. Things are getting better: they’ve migrated back inside with the colder weather and they’re slowly becoming braver – or at least less likely to run – around Daisy. It’s not that she’s a danger to them in any way, she’s just deeply enthusiastic and bouncy, the unpredictability of which they are not fans of (plus she must seem huge to them, while Izzy has always been even smaller than they are). They’re getting used to her and she’s getting better about not bounding up to them every time she sees them. It’s been a big change for everyone and I’m honestly just so grateful that, even with Daisy’s arrival, they’ve never doubted where their home is. I’m so, so grateful for the time I have had with each of them this year – I don’t take a second of it for granted – and I’m hopeful that things will only improve and become more stable going forward.
IZZY – I’m so grateful to have this fluffy, little sock thief in my life. She’s a constant source of love and joy and hilarity. If she could, she’d spend every hour of the day in my lap and I can’t say I’d complain; she spends almost all day curled up against me on the sofa and then all night curled up against me on my bed. She’s so adorable, so sensitive and snuggly, and she’s so funny and playful. She has struggled a bit since Daisy moved in: she doesn’t like having to share me. She gets jealous of how Daisy supports me and tries to take over, tries to prove that she can do it just as well as Daisy can and, to her, Daisy is big and enthusiastic and unpredictable (and Izzy’s face is right at the height of Daisy’s furiously wagging tail, which has caused more than a few incidents between them). They’re getting there and, thankfully, Daisy is very patient with her; I couldn’t bear it if they were just fundamentally incompatible. My relationship with Izzy is so deeply special, both because of how it began and what it’s grown into, and she’s a constant comforting presence that I’m beyond grateful for.
DAISY, MY AUTISM ASSISTANCE DOG – At the beginning of the year, Daisy officially moved in and, a few months later, she was fully qualified as my Autism Assistance Dog. I’ve posted about almost all of the training process but I really need to write something about what it’s been like since she was qualified; I don’t think this post is the place to reflect on all of that because I have so many thoughts on it but this post would’ve been incomplete without her. It’s safe to say that it’s been a massive change and, as someone who’s not very good at change, it has been a hard year with a lot of anxiety. It takes time, after all, for any dog to settle into a new home, as does getting an Assistance Dog used to more and more situations and environments. She’s been doing so well and I don’t think I’ve been doing too badly either but it’s been slow going, especially as it’s been complicated by a chronic pain flare up, a pinched nerve, and months of stomach issues. So we haven’t done as much as I would’ve liked but I’m really proud of everything we’ve managed so far. Her relationships with Izzy and with the cats are still developing and their interactions don’t always go smoothly but they have and are making progress. It’s easy to spiral about them never truly getting on but I have to trust the progress they’ve made so far and that they can make more. She’s an amazing dog: sweet, smart, eager to please, always up to play or snuggle… She has such a gorgeous face and she gets so excited whenever I pick up her jacket: she’s so excited to do her job, which is just adorable and always makes me feel calmer about going out with her. It’s a long process, getting confident working as a team, but every step has been in the right direction and I’m really grateful for that. I’m also really grateful for the ongoing support from Autism Dogs. I wouldn’t have Daisy at all without them, of course, but their support this year – from accommodating me during the the final stages of Daisy’s training to the regular check ins – has been amazing and so appreciated. It’s been a huge undertaking, especially as a chronically ill and disabled person, but they’ve been so helpful and so encouraging. I’m not sure we could’ve done this without their consistent support.
(Left: Izzy // Right: Daisy, my Autism Assistance Dog)
MY THERAPIST – Having abandoned talk therapy and started somatic therapy for trauma release in 2024, this was the year that I really committed everything to it and although I’m not sure I can fully explain it, I can say that it has had a huge impact on my life. Without a doubt. I learned a lot in talk therapy but I think it can only do so much when it comes to neurodivergence and trauma (although that’s just my opinion based on my experience) and somatic therapy takes a very different approach. I’ve been working with my therapist on learning to regulate my nervous system and helping my brain and body to reconnect so that my brain is able to recognise the trauma that my body is holding onto and then strengthening it so that I can go on to process that trauma as my brain and body feel able to. For a long time, I’ve struggled to fully feel my feelings, like I can only feel so much before they get shut down and, over the last six months, that’s started to change, which is both amazing and kind of terrifying. There is a reason we shut down these feelings after all. But my therapist is brilliant. Right from the beginning, we’ve gotten along really well and I so appreciate how she’s adopted my special interests to help me make sense of aspects of somatic therapy and how to get the most out of it; she always meets me where I am and I’ve never felt alone in the process. Because somatic therapy focusses much more heavily on feeling (while talk therapy – in my experience, at least – focusses much more on thinking and reasoning), I feel like I often go into it very much on trust: I might not fully understand or feel whatever it is we’re working on in that moment or in that session but I trust my therapist and I trust her confidence in the process. It’s hard to define the progress I’ve made – trauma and safety and emotions aren’t easily measurable – but I know it’s there. I’m learning a lot and my body’s learning a lot and I know that, in time, I’ll see the proof of all of this learning.
MY FIRST HYDROTHERAPY POOL AND FINALLY GETTING BACK TO THE POOL – Early in the year, the gorgeous pool that I’ve been using to do my hydrotherapy since 2021 closed, much to my distress. Not only did it fit all of my needs and allow me to do my exercises without an audience, it was an important fixture when my mental health was particularly bad (from late 2021 to late 2022). I was very attached. I’m so grateful for the time I had there: I needed a safe space, physically and emotionally, to start building my strength back up and I couldn’t have asked for anywhere better. Finding a new pool has been really difficult but I have recently started going to a new one; it’s not the same but it has different advantages and it does allow me to get back to working in the pool, which I am very grateful for. The transition is hard but I’ve never been particularly good at change. It will just take time; it always does.
THE TATTOOS I GOT THIS YEAR – Spending less time in the pool meant that getting more tattoos wasn’t as logistically complicated as it had been previously and over the last twelve months, I’ve managed to get several new ones, including my tangle for the ten year anniversary of my Autism diagnosis and a tribute to my beloved Lucy. I had hoped to get more but with four months of the year getting swallowed up by a pinched nerve and a mystery illness, just getting out of the house has been a challenge, let alone going to a tattoo studio and sitting through a session (having said that, I do actually find being tattooed more relaxing than painful – so far at least). I’m pretty sure they weren’t necessarily the ones I thought I’d be getting when I imagined this year but I’m certainly not complaining! I love them all and I’m looking forward to getting more whenever the opportunity presents itself.
(Left: Two dragons by @valeries.tattoo // Right: Tangle by @gaiahart)
POETRY ORCHARD – I touched on this in last year’s Grateful post but, at the beginning of 2024, I joined an online poetry community called Poetry Orchard and it was, without doubt, one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I’ve written so much poetry that I’m so proud of since I started going to their workshops, which are always fun and cathartic and inspiring; they’re always a highlight in my week. And I’ve met so many amazing people in this community: they’re all so lovely and thoughtful and such brilliant writers. There’s not one among them that shouldn’t be a published poet. We have the most interesting, moving discussions and I feel so seen and so understood (there’s a lot of overlapping experiences with mental health, neurodivergence, disability, chronic illness, and so on). I feel so lucky to have found this space and the friendships that have grown from it are so special to me.
MY FRIENDS – I’m so, so grateful for my friends, from the steadiness of my oldest friendships to the blossoming of the newer ones. Between working with Daisy and releasing new music in the first half of the year and my chronic pain and illness during the second half, I haven’t seen nearly enough of them but they’ve still been so supportive of me, of my music, as I’ve struggled with my health stuff… I feel so lucky to have such wonderful, kind, creative, and passionate people in my life; I’m inspired by them everyday and it’s an honour to play even the tiniest role in the incredible work they’re doing and putting out into the world, even if all I am is a witness and cheerleader. I see them changing the world, person by person, and I can’t be anything but thankful for the path that led me to each and every one of them.
RELEASING MUSIC AGAIN – This year, I finally, FINALLY, released new music and, not only that, but I released my beloved Autism centric project, Too Much And Not Enough, Vol. 1. I started working on this in 2021 but I’ve been thinking about it for even longer and now it’s finally out in the world and people are actually listening to it! I’ve had some amazing feedback on it and some of the stories people have shared with me upon hearing it have been so incredibly touching. I’m so grateful to everyone who has listened to it so far and I am so beyond grateful to everyone who helped me to make it what it is and then get it out in the world. Working with you all was an absolute joy and I could not have done this without you. It may have been the most stressful experience of my life but I have never been so proud of anything and I can’t wait to share what I have planned for 2026.

(Write This Out – Single, In The Mourning – Single, The Loneliest Whale – Single, Too Close And Not Enough, Vol. 1 – EP (top to bottom, left to right))
SO MANY GREAT SHOWS – Concert wise, I thought last year was probably unbeatable with so many incredible concerts – from the super special album release shows of my friends to the almost-four-hour-long epic that was Taylor Swift’s The Eras Tour – but this year was also deeply special in its own way. Several of my friends released new music and I got to see them perform those songs live at the launch parties. Cora Rebel released her second EP, Small Town Murder, which I love even more than her first EP, Room For Wonder. I’m not kidding: I’m still obsessed with every single song. Similarly, I’ve been a fan of Jaz Beeson’s music since we met at university and the EP she released this year, Aren’t You Cool, is so good and her live performance has only gotten better since I last saw her and her band perform. I also made friends with the wonderful Tygermylk this year and when they released their debut album, Local Girl, Always Tired, I got to see them play the whole album live in a beautiful church in London; it was such a special event. I feel so lucky to have so many creative friends putting such awesome work out in the world and I’m so excited for what I know is coming in the new year. I also got to see Maisie Peters at one of her two Before The Bloom shows, where she gave us a sneak peak at her new album while revisiting past songs that she felt reflected the same energy as the new music, which I thought was a really cool way of structuring a gig; I got to see Maren Morris blow the roof off The Roundhouse with one of my greatest friends (we’ve been going to her shows together since The Hero Tour in 2017); and Gracie Abrams just blew me away on The Secret of Us Tour to the degree that I bought a ticket to a second show because she was so good. And I can’t talk about amazing gigs without talking about Erin LeCount (although I want to talk about her more in a minute). I saw her first in May where she headlined Bush Hall in London and she was amazing. I wasn’t able to see her the next time she was in London (because the accessibility team at the venue were actually the worst I’ve ever encountered) but when I saw her in December when she sold out KOKO in London, she was absolutely incredible: she only released her second EP in April and she’s already such a compelling performer. That second show was one of the best I’ve ever been to and I was so moved when she played my favourite songs that I cried (something I’m rarely able to do in public after years of masking). It was a deeply special year of concerts, just like 2024 but in a very different way. I’m grateful for every single one.
(Left: Sarah Close, Cora Rebel, Gracie Abrams, Erin LeCount (clockwise) // Middle: Gracie Abrams, crybby, Maisie Peters, Jaz Beeson (clockwise) // Right: Maren Morris, Tygermylk, Erin LeCount, Erin LeCount (clockwise))
And while it wasn’t a show, I did get to go and fangirl my little heart out at Ascension, a new Stargate convention. I got to see so many of my friends from The Companion, which was so much fun and although Amanda Tapping, one of my biggest heroes, had to pull out of the event, I got to meet Richard Dean Anderson who is the most wonderful human being and it was such a special experience. And he’s such a dog person so he and Daisy had some absolutely gorgeous moments together. It was Daisy’s biggest outing so far but she did brilliantly and was absolutely adored by everyone from the moment I took her jacket off to the moment I put it back on again – everyone was so respectful when she was working, which made the experience so much easier for the both of us, and it was so lovely to see how happy she made all of the guests and attendees, especially when she was off duty and was allowed to interact with everyone. Richard Dean Anderson called her his favourite convention attendee, which still makes me smile so much. I can’t wait for Ascension 2 in 2026!
ERIN LECOUNT’S MUSIC – I found Erin LeCount in late 2024 and her music completely dominated my listening time over the last year. She put out her second EP, I Am Digital, I Am Divine, in April, which is a stunning, beautifully cohesive project: the concept, the themes, the lyrics, the vocals, the melodies, the production… they’re all incredible. When she released the EP, she described it as being “about feeling dysfunctional and like there is something inherently wrong with you, the ‘digital’ being this neurotic, obsessive, ‘cold’ and very analytical part of me that felt like a battling a part of me that’s very sensitive, the ‘divine’ and the big overwhelming feelings. They’re two sides of the same coin that I’m always finding how to balance, and these songs are all those many imbalances and highs and lows.” I relate to that statement so much and I relate to every song, although my favourites are ‘Marble Arch,’ ‘Sweet Fruit,’ and ‘Silver Spoon’ (I’ve written more about the individual songs in my upcoming Songs of 2025 post so I won’t double up by deep diving into them here), with lyrics like “I am hard to love / Not what you thought / Am I? Am I? Am I? / Is there a fault in my core? / Did I do something wrong? / Did I? Did I? Did I?” and “I need someone / To look through and see me, to rip out the weeds / Growing where my heart was” and “I split the good wine, I panicked / A disaster, a knee-jerk reaction / Then everyone around us starts laughing / Is that how it’s meant to happen?” and “You were sweet, I got mean / And when we fight, I refuse to eat.” She’s since released two more songs, ‘808 HYMN‘ and ‘MACHINE GHOST,’ both of which I love but ‘MACHINE GHOST’ instantly became my favourite song of this year and probably for a long time to come; I feel the theme of dissociation so deeply (especially as I do more and more somatic work and the connection between my brain and body gets stronger – I actually listen to this song during therapy because my therapist says my body is more receptive to releasing trauma compared to when I’m not listening to it) and the lyrics, like “It hurts to stand, it hurts to stand / It hurts to stand, it hurts to stand,” and “Lights come on and there’s nobody home / And all my love pushed my back against the wall / Can someone tell god I should be feeling this more? / I can’t love you like I am supposed to / Baby, you’re the machine and I’m the ghost,” and “‘Cause everything starts hurting when I see the world in colour / And I wanna turn it off,” and “I’m not at the party and I’m not in my body,” feel like they could’ve been written for me. I feel so seen and so validated by her music and watching her produce all of her music and then recreate some of these tracks live on stage is so inspiring to me, so much so that I’ve started learning more about production for my own creative process when making music. I’ve already talked about seeing her live and how special that has been, her recent show at KOKO being one of the best shows I’ve ever been to. I wish I’d found her sooner but I’m so grateful that I found her when I did because her music means so much to me and watching her creative process and live performance develop in real time is so, so beautiful.
There has been so much to be thankful for, despite how difficult this year has been. In my experience, the relationship between gratitude and depression can be a complicated one, given how depression distorts reality and dampens emotions, and it’s something I’ve been struggling with for several years now. Sometimes engaging with that tug of war is just too hard, especially when I’m already working so hard in therapy, so the only thing I can do is acknowledge that it’s there – that it is complicated – while honouring the things in my life that are objectively positive, the things that make my life better. Sometimes that’s all you can do and that’s got to be enough.
Category: about me, animals, autism dog, depression, emotions, exercise, family, favourites, hydrotherapy, music, special interests, therapy, writing Tagged: actuallyautistic, altpop, altpop artist, asd, autism, autism assistance dog, autism dog, autism dogs, autism dogs cic, autism spectrum disorder, autistic, autistic artist, autistic singer, autistic songwriter, autitic singer, cat, cat death, cat loss, chronic illness, chronic pain, chronically ill, content warning, depression, depressive episode, dog, erin lecount, family, family of cats, friends, heds, hydrotherapy, hydrotherapy exercises, hypermobile, hypermobile ehlers danlos syndrome, hypermobility, independent artist, indiepop, indiepop artist, live music, machine ghost, mental health, mental illness, mum, parents, pet death, pet loss, pinched nerve, poetry, poetry orchard, pool, singer, singersongwriter, somatic therapy, songwriter, swimming, swimming pool, tattoo, tattoos, therapist, therapy, trauma therapy, trd, treatment resistant depression, trigger warning, writing community
Posted on April 1, 2024
TW: Discussions of self harm.
Yes, I know I’m late and that Self Harm Awareness Month was March but my recent post (about the disastrous ending of my therapy sessions) took up so much time and energy and emotion that I just didn’t have the space to write anything else and certainly not in time for the end of March. But I did post this as part of my recent foray into TikTok and I thought it summed up my journey pretty well so it seemed fitting to share it here…







It was a moving experience to see so many people sharing such vulnerable stories but I think the experiences posted likely skewed towards: all of the stories that I saw ended positively, with the individual celebrating being clean of self harm for however long. And that’s great, don’t get me wrong; it’s amazing to see people share how hard they’ve worked to move forward, to process and heal and recover. But I think it’s often the case that those who are still struggling don’t feel able to share due to judgement or comparison to those ‘further down the road’ or because their stories aren’t traditional ones. I don’t consider mine exactly traditional and I think that’s because my self harm use has mostly been due to my Autism and my difficulty regulating my emotions. So I think it’s important to share that experience, as well as the fact that I don’t know what it will look like in the future and how that is a frightening concept.
I don’t have the answers and, in this season of my life, I don’t have any poignant, wise words either. I’m just taking it day by day because even a single day can feel overwhelming right now.
Category: about me, anxiety, autism, depression, emotions, mental health, self harm Tagged: adhd, asd, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, audhd, autism, autism spectrum disorder, complex post traumatic stress disorder, content warning, coping mechanism, cptsd, depression, mental health, mental illness, self harm, self harm awareness, self harm awareness month, self harm awareness month 2024, self injury, self injury awareness, tiktok, trauma, trd, treatment resistant depression, trigger, trigger warning, tw
Posted on September 10, 2023
TW: Discussions of suicidal thoughts, suicidal urges, self harm, and irrational thinking. PLEASE think carefully before reading further if these things may trigger you or cause you distress. Please always put yourself and your mental health first.
This, I think, is the first time I’ve written directly about my experience with suicidal thoughts and urges. I’ve mentioned it in relation to the side effects of medication and written around the edges of it but I don’t think I’ve ever talked about it in such detail. I have omitted certain moments and details since it’s been proven that sharing about plans and methods can lead to further suicides but this is as honest as I can manage, even though it terrifies me. But as hard as it is, I’m sharing these experiences because I think it’s so deeply important for people to understand what it’s like to feel this way, to live in so much pain, to feel so desperate. Keeping these stories in the dark only increases the shame and stigma so, even though it’s difficult and uncomfortable and scary, we need to talk about them. It’s the only way the world will get better at supporting people who are struggling.
I’ve experienced suicidal thoughts on and off since I was a teenager but for a long time, they were passive. Walking to school, I’d cross the road and, dreading the day ahead, I’d imagine getting hit by a car. But the thought would leave as quickly as it arrived. I thought it was normal. To quote Ned Vizzini, “Who hasn’t thought about killing themselves, as a kid? How can you grow up in this world and not think about it?” (I may have hated that book but that line really resonated with me.) This was before I was diagnosed as autistic* and I thought everyone felt as overwhelmed by their emotions, by their anxieties, as I did – as I do – but were just better at managing it.
*Autistic individuals, especially autistic women, are at a much higher risk of suicide than the general population; the factors include mental health problems (especially if they go untreated), the impact of a late diagnosis, challenging life events such as bullying and ableism, the burden of masking, isolation, and cognitive inflexibility, which can lead to difficulty in seeing any option but suicide. (x)
(Left: During secondary school // Right: During sixth form college)
I continued to experience passive suicidal thoughts and then, during my second year of sixth form college, I started to struggle with depression and my ever-present anxiety reached all-new heights (although, in comparison to what I experience now, I’d happily go back to it). Almost a decade, multiple diagnoses, and more than twenty medications later, my depression is the worst it’s ever been and I’ve been actively suicidal for almost two years. There have been short periods over the years (always in concert with the times I tried medications other than Phenelzine) where I’ve struggled with suicidal thoughts but, for the last two years, they have been almost constant.
They began in earnest when I started taking Xaggatin for my ADHD (and had to stop taking Phenelzine because my ADHD clinician was insistent that the side effects were unsustainable – I disagreed for multiple reasons but this isn’t the post for that story). I thought the intensity of the thoughts – and their slow, scary manifestation into urges and intentions and plans – was a side effect but it wasn’t long before my depression crept back in, sucking me down. Between that and the other awful side effects, my psychiatrist switched me to another medication, Bupropion, an antidepressant that’s supposed to help with ADHD but it only made things worse: I was so anxious, depressed, and suicidal that I couldn’t function. I tried a few more antidepressants, was traumatised by several more doctors, and had the crisis team called out (although they didn’t do anything, including the things they’d said they’d do). I quit treatment entirely for a while, unable to mentally handle it; I basically retreated to my bed and stayed there. I couldn’t engage with the world: it just hurt too much. But without treatment (I didn’t even have a therapist at this point, another thing that had spun my life out of control), the claws of my depression dug deeper and deeper. I remember one day where I had the sickening realisation that I wasn’t doing anything worthwhile with my life, that I had wasted my time and my education, that I was a complete waste of space. There was another day when I realised that something had broken inside me, something that could never be fixed, and I was no longer the person I had been and would only ever be a defective, inferior version of her. I avoided mirrors for months. On New Year’s Eve of 2021, I stared at the fairy lights in my living room and thought about how I had no desire to survive even the next 365 days. It wasn’t a resolution but I felt it with a quiet certainty. I thought about it everyday but then somehow that dreaded day arrived and I was still here, despite that certainty, despite my plans. I hated myself for it, feeling like a pathetic, weak-willed coward. It was a terrible night, not that I remember much of it given the distress I was in.
Somehow I ended up on Phenelzine again, despite my revulsion at the thought; I still don’t really know how it happened and I still find myself so angry about it that it feels like it might consume me. But, for a while, the chronic suicidality was relocated to the side burner: it was all still there but it wasn’t the only thing in my brain anymore. I could ignore it for sometimes days at a time. But after a while, my depression seemed to billow back in, like ink in water. The suicidal thoughts and urges became – and still are – the constant undertow to my thoughts and sometimes it’s all so overwhelming that I can barely breathe. Self harming has long stopped being an effective coping strategy as it just makes me feel pathetic for not doing more damage. I don’t know why I haven’t acted on these thoughts. I don’t know why I’m still here. If asked, I’d probably say, “because I’m a coward,” even though I know that I’d likely get a verbal thrashing from anyone I voiced that feeling too. I can practically hear my therapist (yes, I’m back in therapy) encouraging me to dissect that feeling. I know it’s not a healthy, rational thought but it is a real one. It’s a weird state to live in and the conflict of planning for a future I don’t particularly want to exist in is disorientating and miserable. It’s exhausting. But I know what my fate is, whether it comes sooner or later, and I have for years.
Following a slightly different train of thought, it’s very strange to me that people can’t seem to tell, just because it’s such an overwhelming experience for me. I feel like I have a massive neon sign over my head: “SUICIDAL.” But then I wouldn’t be surprised if people just don’t comment because they don’t know what to say. The last time I self-harmed, I cut my face because I needed to look as broken as I felt (or inasmuch as I could physically manage, which wasn’t enough – more shame and self-hatred) and almost nobody even mentioned it. (Not that that was the point but it did surprise me. Most of the time I avoided the question. I only lied once: I was in a weird headspace already and the question took me off guard and I just didn’t have the emotional energy to explain.) The cut got infected and took weeks to heal. I’m glad it left a scar but I resent it for not being bigger: the disfigurement doesn’t accurately reflect the feelings, not by a long shot.
(Left: The dressing on my face after I self harmed // Right: The scar after it finally healed, having got infected.)
In some ways, I feel like I’m already disappearing: I struggle to make sense of my face in the mirror and, while I don’t know about this year, there are fewer than ten photos of me in 2022; my autistic masking is so ingrained that the real, brutally honest me who is struggling and suffering (who so desperately needs to be seen) gets locked away so tightly that she might as well not exist, while a socially acceptable and palatable projection of me – the only version of me that people could want, says the voice in my head – takes over my body, acting almost without my permission; I feel like no one knows the real me any more, not after months in bed, besieged by suicidal thoughts and impulses. I feel permanently damaged by it but people are still treating me as who I used to be and not who I am now (not that I think it’s their fault – while the damage feels so deeply clear to me, I know that it’s not visible to anyone else). I remember the old me. I remember the person who could be proud of being different and who advocated for acceptance, even though she still felt broken. It was a balancing act but there was balance. Now the broken feeling has broken the scale. I feel unrecognisable. I noted down somewhere – last year at some point, I think – that feeling like this feels like one elongated near death experience. Almost every day for more than eighteen months, I’ve been so close to death that I can feel it’s presence in the air when I breathe in; I can feel it in my lungs. One decision – one split second – away. Maybe it’s just dying in slow motion. Feeling this way… I don’t know how it doesn’t change you.
I was reading various articles as I both researched and procrastinated this post and, in one of them, the author had written this: “Because depression, as we all know, is almost always treatable.” The statistics vary, depending on where you look, but a high percentage of people (this page claims between 80% and 90%) do eventually respond well to treatment. After ten years, over twenty medications, and more hours in multiple therapies than I can count, I’ve only ever managed periods of being mentally well. The longest period was, I think, two and a half years at the most. Only one medication actually helps and I’ve run out of new ones to try. The other options, according to a consultant in another very distressing appointment, would be the Ketamine trials or Electroconvulsive Therapy, neither of which doctors fully understand (the same could be said for antidepressants). Given how abnormally I respond to multiple medications, I’m terrified of how these treatments might affect me. I’m terrified of how Phenelzine is affecting me. With all of that in mind, I can’t help but wonder – and have wondered for a long time – if I’m included in that small percentage that doesn’t respond to treatment. And if that’s the case, it means that this is forever and that is an unbearable thought.
I’ve spent a lot of time talking with my therapist about this – and no doubt this post will spark multiple new discussions – and we did talk briefly about what I could write for this post, what would feel actually helpful to someone reading (I never figured that out, by the way, so I have no idea if this is helpful or not). She said that the most important thing is to talk about it and that it’s much more dangerous not to talk about it. I agree with the latter part but I’m not convinced that talking about it is helping me; I often feel like I’m just going around in circles and exhausting myself. She asked me what I would say to someone I loved if they expressed all of this to me and the truth is that I honestly don’t know. I don’t know because I’ve never heard anything that’s helped me. I think we all have the knee-jerk reaction to say, “Please stay. I love you and I’d miss you.” It’s true and it’s heartfelt but is it fair to ask someone to live in agony, in unbearable misery, because you’d miss them? We want to say, “Things will get better.” But we don’t know that. We can’t promise that. We want to say, “How can I help?” But it’s unlikely that there’s any one thing a person can do to help, although that one is more specific to the individual person. If someone asked me that, I couldn’t give them an answer because there is nothing they can do to help. It’s so much bigger than one person, than them or than me. Maybe these help some people. For me, none of these things change the reasons I’m suicidal and they’ve only added unhelpful pressure and stress. I’d hate to do that to someone else. I’m not saying the right words aren’t out there. I’ve just never heard them. Or discovered them.
Obviously I haven’t shared everything. As I said, I didn’t want to share things that have been proven to push people passed their limits (although I hope everyone read the warning and acted accordingly and prioritised their mental health) but there are also certain things that are too hard to share, too raw, too loaded. But I wanted to share my experience today, not just because it’s an overwhelming aspect of my life, but because sharing our experiences and our feelings is, as I said in my introduction, one of the few ways (and possibly the most powerful way) that the world gets better at helping people. People can only do that if they understand the battles being fought and the support that’s needed. I hope that sharing my story can help with that, even if it’s just a drop in the ocean.
RESOURCES:
Category: adhd, anxiety, autism, death, depression, diagnosis, emotions, medication, mental health, school, self harm, suicide, therapy, treatment Tagged: adhd, antidepressants, asd, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, autism, autism spectrum condition, autism spectrum disorder, autistic, bupropion, content warning, cw, depression, disfigurement, ect, electroconvulsive therapy, it's kind of a funny story, ketamine, ketamine trial, masking, medical trauma, medication, medication change, ned vizzini, passive suicidal ideation, phenelzine, psychotherapy, quote, secondary school, self esteem, self harm, self hatred, self injury, sixth form, sixth form college, suicidal, suicidal ideation, suicidal thoughts, suicidal urges, suicide, therapy, treatment, treatment resistant depression, trigger, trigger warning, tw, world suicide prevention day, world suicide prevention day 2023, wspd, wspd 2023, xaggitin, xaggitin xl

Hi! I’m Lauren Alex Hooper. Welcome to my little blog! I write about living with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), ADHD (Inattentive Type), and Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (hEDS), as well as several mental health issues.
I’m a singer-songwriter (it’s my biggest special interest and I have both a BA and MA in songwriting) so I’ll probably write a bit about that too.
My first single, ‘Invisible,’ is on all platforms, with all proceeds going to Young Minds.
My debut EP, Honest, is available on all platforms, with a limited physical run at Resident Music in Brighton.
I’m currently working on an album about my experiences as an autistic woman.
Hi! I’m Lauren Alex Hooper. Welcome to my little blog! I write about living with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), ADHD (Inattentive Type), and Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (hEDS), as well as several mental health issues.
I’m a singer-songwriter (it’s my biggest special interest and I have both a BA and MA in songwriting) so I’ll probably write a bit about that too.
My first single, ‘Invisible,’ is on all platforms, with all proceeds going to Young Minds.
My debut EP, Honest, is available on all platforms, with a limited physical run at Resident Music in Brighton.
I’m currently working on an album about my experiences as an autistic woman.
Finding Hope