From housebound to home

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By Charlotte Underwood

What is your house to you? Is it a place that gives you comfort, joy? Does it express who you are and make you feel safe? What if your house is more like a prison? A place where you do not feel at home, more trapped inside, because the alternative is too much to bear?

After a bad relapse two years ago, I had to make the decision to quit my job, which I had worked at for over a year and a half. It was a choice of money or my wellbeing and obviously, my life stands well above any paycheck. Without a job, I found myself low. My mental health had fallen into a dark place, to the point that I did not have the motivation to do anything.

Trapped inside

I was trapped inside. I could not leave my bed, let alone my house, or even answer the door to get food deliveries or parcels. Could not go to the shop to replace the milk, or walk to the park with my dog. Basic routine activities felt an awful lot like climbing at up a mountain against my will. I spent over two months of my life, even over the Christmas period which usually gave me so much joy and life, bathing in my illness.

My personal welfare, my relationship with my husband, my ability to function as a human were compromised. It wasn’t until the new year that I found myself so angry and fed up with myself that I decided I had to get help. It seems the obvious choice, to go to a GP when you are sick, but my head for months told me that I would be rejected or wasting the doctor’s precious time. But making that step, or rather that leap, to admit that I was struggling was my first step into finding myself again.

We all deserve help

What followed was a hard year of waiting lists, being bounced about, a few A&E crisis visits and a lot of medication. It was hard work and I felt like I was not getting anywhere. I was waiting for this help, I wanted this help, but it seemed impossible to get. I was also ashamed to go onto medication, I felt weak for that. But waiting and determination paid off. I now have real help, from monthly GP visits to monitor my progress, to my own ‘key worker’ who is helping me get on the path to therapy and strengthening my being. This year, I know I’ll have therapy. My medication is now starting to be reduced, so one day, hopefully, I can come off medication.

There is a lot of stigma around seeking help; a lot of us do it to ourselves. We tell ourselves excuses and do ourselves more harm because we do not believe that we deserve help, but we all deserve help.
Recovery is possible. Finding that ability to survive and function, even a little bit, is already in you, but you need to fight for it and keep going. I know how hard it is, believe me.

My house no longer shackles me

But today, I can leave the house, I take my dog for walks in the park, I go on dates with my husband. I’ve travelled to London so many times I can’t count – which is a big thing for me. I am not able yet to work, and I am far from being able to cope without professional help, but I am able to live. My house no longer shackles me; it is my home, which I enjoy. If anything, I now feel the desire to go outside more and more. I have this desire to experience the life that years ago, I had given up on.

There is no quick fix or cure for mental illness. I cannot tell you what is right or what is wrong. What I can tell you is my truth; I was in a very dark place where I was barely living, and I had no quality of life. Now, a year and a half into seeking help and fighting daily for my life, I have a future and chance to become whatever I desire.

Life can change, life can get better, but it won’t happen overnight. If you do try, it will pay off.