Fading Before Dawn: Prologue - Haze - Start Here

Before we begin, a gentle content warning. This series speaks openly about mental illness, suicidal thoughts, pregnancy and baby loss, postnatal depression, PMDD, medication reactions, and grief. Please take care of yourself while listening and seek support if you feel unable to keep yourself safe. I created this series after realising I'd spent so long trying to become somebody better that I'd lost sight of who I was. Through my own experiences, I explore what it means to live with mental illness, to disappear inside it, to survive it and to begin finding yourself again.
Nature's seasons run throughout these recordings, reflecting the seasons within us: autumns of letting go, winters when we fade, springs when we begin to wake, and summers when we allow ourselves to exist again. I'm not here to tell you how to fix yourself. I simply want to sit beside you. Each personal reflection is followed by a separate meditation.

Transcript

Some people might find the contents of this book triggering or upsetting. If you do find yourself in this position. Please reach out to your doctor to get the support you need. The book contains my own personal experience and isn't a substitute for medical care. Art 1 Worthy. Prologue Hayes obscuration of the atmosphere. If you met me now, You wouldn't give me a second glance or thought. You'll have not heard of me because I've not been successful or done anything special with my work life. I'm not an influencer and I hate posting on social media. I'm not loud or brave or confident. I don't have a lot of friends. I hate social occasions, Small talk and shopping. I'm overweight. I'm pre-diabetic. I hate exercise. I have absolutely no fashion sense whatsoever. My favourite footwear are my wellies. I'm Charlotte. I'm 40. A wife. A friend. And a liar. However, If you'd met me a few years ago, You'd have met someone completely different. You'd have been met by a confident and outgoing clinical hypnotherapist who specialised in the recovery from mental illness. I'd have been in my mid-thirties and I was obsessed with improving myself in any way possible and being the best in all areas of life. I was fanatical about health and well-being, Self-improvement and the law of attraction. I was an avid reader on those subjects, Alongside being a member of many networking groups where I'd learn how to be a better version of myself and how to make myself and my business thrive. I had connections coming out of my ears and if anyone ever needed anything, I knew just the person and I had their number. Every week was packed full with being a mum, Seeing hypnotherapy clients and networking. Every weekend was bursting with family to see and places to visit. I easily made friends and we were never at a loose end. In fact, The thought of not being busy and booked up scared me. Each week I'd invite people round with their children and when they came to my home I'd ensure that they were welcomed in with a friendly smile and open arms. I'd have cleaned and tidied to a show-home standard, And they'd be greeted by the scent of my most recent candle, A drink, Snacks, And you'd hear the gentle hum of music playing in the background. I'd have set the scene. The lounge would be full of toys and I'd let the children just run wild and make a mess. No problem, I'd say. I'll sort it later when you've gone. I'd be bubbly and smile a lot, Probably a bit too much sometimes. I'd want to give off an air of optimism, And I'd present myself as though I had my shit together. If friends came to me with any challenges, I'd easily offer them words of support, Encouragement and kindness, And I'd find a solution to any of their problems. If they'd have asked me. I'd have told them how great I felt. How things were really good, How lucky I was, And how the universe was on my side. I tell them all about the new self-improvement book someone had recommended that I'd been reading. And how it was so powerful and positive. And that I think they should read it too. When it was time for them to leave, I'd hope that they'd leave feeling better than when they arrived. I'd have tried hard to make them see their worth. And see that I valued every word they spoke. I wanted my friends to think I was a good and kind person, But also that I was successful and happy in life. Yet. When I closed the door, My mask would slip off. And you'd see underneath was a very different reality to what I just portrayed. You'd see the breath leaving my body, The light in my eyes fading, My smile would go, And you'd see that my very existence was harrowing. You'd see me become the truth of me. You'd see that I had nothing left, And everything I just told you about how I felt was a lie. But I wanted that lie so badly to be true. I wanted everything I spoke of to be true for me, But it wasn't. Because within myself I was slowly and painfully dying from depression. As the years passed by. My life continued to be weaved into the deepest of despairs. In fact, Over the next few years my mental illness just got worse and worse, And my attempt to cover it over got harder and harder. My previous solid and positive exterior began to melt. I'd held my mental pain in for so long that it was rising to the top of my life, And people were beginning to see the cracks. Friends would notice that instead of me being bubbly, Cheery and supportive, I was empty. I was shutting down. I no longer had the capacity to contain the mental illness I was living with. And can no longer keep up the lie. I could no longer run two lives side by side, And one had to give. But this time, The victor wasn't going to be the lie. It had to be. The truth. Telling you in this book how I felt and opening up so frankly about my journey over the past 20 years has at times been hard. Some things have been a lot to admit. Especially when some wonderful things happened over those years. I found the love of my life. I had a baby and got married. I made new friends and socialized and went on holidays. I worked, Read and wrote. So of course on the outside my life looked textbook. It scribbled within the pages. It wasn't. What has upset me the most has been the realisation of how unwell I actually was, Because I honestly don't think I'd realised. Especially when my son was young. I just felt so mentally unwell. Postnatal depression consumed me in his early years and the memory of him is weary. Admitting that was excruciating for me, But I felt I had to admit it, Not only for me, But also for you. Over the years I have had many bad ideas and keeping my mental illness a secret was one of them. I guess, Though, That sometimes the mistakes we make deliver the best outcomes, The best directional changes, And the best ways to learn. I truly believe that my suffering can now be of learning to not only myself, But also as support and recognition to others. If I hadn't kept it to myself and experienced the anguish I felt, I wouldn't recognize your hollow smiles, Your empty I'm-fines. I wouldn't know that the perfect exterior is often harbouring the most broken of hearts. I found through my years of having a mental illness, Time and time again, That I came up against how I thought I should feel and behave for those around me, And how I should be seen in this world and in society. So making sure that I seemed okay on the outside, Because that's what I thought I should do, To avoid people recognizing how unwell I was within, I forgot me. And there my darkness became my normality. And I lived within a haze of silent mental destruction for years. There have been a couple of occasions that I've had to get serious help. Because I was knocking on suicide's door. I was fading away. I'd constantly question why I didn't feel happy and well like other people did. What was I doing so wrong that I choose death over life? Fortunately, For three years, I have felt so much better. Yet, I'm still a mental illness sufferer. I guess for myself, I see it a bit like if you have a lifelong physical illness. You still have it, But it's managed with medication, Holistic treatments and exercise. I am very aware that, Should I not take care of my well-being, I have the full potential to slip back to where I was. I describe myself as someone who is in recovery from mental illness and I am someone who will forever have to work on myself to keep well. And that's OK. That's my journey. To aid my recovery, I decided that I needed to take some of my own advice I've been dishing out for years and go and get a professional diagnosis. I had to put things properly in place and I couldn't do that or understand myself well enough without a diagnosis. I had an inkling what might be wrong with me, But I wanted to get a professional opinion from a doctor. I was diagnosed with premenstrual dysphoric disorder, PMDD. Which I discuss later in the book. I was offered medication and I took it. Initially, I saw medication as a last resort for me with being an alternative therapist, Even though I'd always encouraged my clients to take it if they need it. I felt that, As a therapist, It meant that my own work hadn't worked. But I realise now that that isn't the case at all. My medication has helped me come back to life. And although it took a couple of tries on different ones, I found the one that was for me. Without medication, I couldn't seem to grasp myself. EMDD delivers the inability to produce the correct hormone level. Making it impossible to put life into perspective. My thoughts were taken out of context by my brain, And things were responded to with anger, Frustration and sadness, And I needed help because I couldn't do it alone anymore. It's as though the medication gives me armbands. It allows me to float to the surface of life to breathe and try again. So, With my armbands blown up, I've continued to heal. I've also had to relearn how to live life realistically, And how to live with the person I found within me, Because I am a completely different version of myself. I am not who I once was. I've had a lot of fixing and learning to do, And as I have continued to come back to life, I've been reminding myself to listen to what works for me. Not to hide away, And to recognize what I can and can't do. Reminding myself every step of the way, Where I've been. And that it's okay. To go where I'm going. After my diagnosis, I took several months off to help myself upon this voyage of recovery and as I continued to exit the haze of mental illness. In my time off, I walked and looked. And as I did. I not only learned to recognize my own feelings and to listen to myself. I also learnt to listen to natures. As I began to connect back to myself and hear my thoughts instead of other people's, I started seeing the connection we have with nature. And how it shows us every day in every season how to live in our own world. Upon my walks, I watched how Mother Nature changes. And each day she rises. Every day, Every season, Every year. Nature rises time and time again. If she is broken she will rise. She will break through the concrete to grow her roots if she needs to. But she does it her way. And in her time. And it's only other people who break her. She never breaks herself. When I watched this. I knew that I could rise too. I was going to rise up through the years of mental destruction and breakthrough. Then, When I was ready. I started writing this. Which at first wasn't going to be a book because there was no way I'd find the patience to write a book. And quite frankly, I was boring. Yet somehow, Somewhere, Along the way, It became one. At first it was just meditations and guidance, Bits of advice every now and then. Nothing too deep. I want you to keep it light and positive. But I was struggling for it to be enough for a book and also for me. I was losing interest and momentum, So I kept pausing. I was finding the whole process frustrating and hard work. Then one day, My friend John and I were emailing. I told him how I felt and he told me to write the book for me and others will follow. In that moment, Those words pierced through my heart and mind, And I could see that I had some soul-searching to do. I relived that comment over and over. I then dug deep and asked myself what I really wanted now. And what do I wish I'd had when I was in the depth of despair? Be honest, Charlotte. My unsure internal voice said. But I felt selfish asking what I needed. As this book wasn't for me, It was for you. But inevitably. I knew what I would have wanted. I wish I'd had someone who felt the same as me, But who had recovered. I wanted someone who could tell me that I wasn't alone, And that other people had felt the darkness I was feeling too, And that I didn't have to hide or lie anymore. I wanted what they were telling me to be true because they could share their story and it be real, Vulnerable and relatable. I wanted someone to tell me that I could live my life again. It's a well one. Because they'd done it. I wanted someone to be really honest and realistic with me and tell me that I would never be who I was. Because I couldn't go back in time. It couldn't change what had happened, No matter how hard it was to hear. But instead, I'd be a new version of who I was. And one day. She'll be okay. I like her. I like who she becomes. In fact. One day, I'll love her. So as I explored John's advice and my thoughts, I knew what I was meant to do. I had to become a part of the story I was telling. I had to become who I needed years ago. I had to tell you the truth of my journey. I had to tell you that there were times when I really wasn't okay. That this mental illness almost took my life away. And as I travelled upon the waves of memories, It was hard. I felt anger, Guilt and sadness over and over. And the fear of no one liking the real me. Was real. Yet as I opened up and wrote. Nothing quite prepared me. One of the feelings I felt. And that was freedom. I felt freedom when exposing my mental illness for what it was. How telling the depth of my journey for you became a way to release what it had held over me for so long. It was no longer powerful. It becomes weak. And I could see it for what it really was. It was a bully, And I'd been bullied by my own brain. But I just pulled its pants down in front of everyone. And my deepest secret became my most exposed truth. And there I was. No longer a sufferer. Instead. I was a survivor. As I continue to write. I imagine seeing you reading. There I became desperate to tell you how worthy of your life you are. I wanted to tell you that you too can come back to life, Be that for the first time or again. I wanted to share my story with you, So that you felt less alone. I didn't want you to feel like no one understood like I did. Because they do. There are secrets too. I wanted you to see who you are. I wanted you to see that you are not your mental illness. You are so much more. You are you. And you are wanted. But right now, You are hurting. And being so unwell is painful. But it's even harder hiding it. You are not misplaced or wrong in this life. You are unwell. And when we are unwell, We feel lost. That there is a huge piece missing from us. But there will come a day where you see that you are worth your recovery and that you are your whole world. You are the most important person within it. So believe me or not. You already hold everything you need. What you need is not on the outside. It's not about the things you buy, The contacts you make, The money in your bank or how you look. It's about you. As the thoughts and the feelings you walk with every day. Is knowing that you are worthy. That you are so worthy of feeling well and balanced. And that you are wanted and needed by you and by yourself. This is your journey on Earth. No one else's. And the only person that can do your life is you is yours. And every second of each breath you take belongs to you. You are your life. So if you don't mind. I'd like to help you get reacquainted. With the most incredible and beautiful person that you will ever meet. And that's you. And although this book holds my story. You were always in my mind. And this book… is for you.