I come from a family who have generational mental health issues that were probably passed down because of trauma in the womb. My nan was in my great grandmother’s stomach in a concentration camp in Nazi Germany. She was born 9th Sept 1945.

My nan was pregnant with my mum and suffered trauma at the hands of partners while she was pregnant. My mother was kicked down the stairs by my nan when she was six months pregnant.

 

So the trauma in the womb that I suffered, I believe, I was born with hydrocephalus, which can be a cause of mental health. But ultimately, from the moment I was born, I was at a disadvantage because it was drummed into me at a young age I wasn’t wanted. I should have been a boy. My dad didn’t want me. My mom didn’t love me. My nan looked after me, and I grew up very quickly.

 

There was a lot of trauma. I was bullied because I was big. And it played on my head because when I was taken out of school, my mom put me in another school and I became a bully and that was my survival instinct.

 

As an adult, I experience things and I used people, places and things to change the way I felt. My mental health became progressive, and when I became a mother, I had trauma in the womb. I tried to commit suicide while I was pregnant and the stress of it on my baby could of caused something.

 

But I have six diagnosed mental health conditions, recurring depressive disorder, severe anxiety, ADHD, OCD, borderline personality disorder and PTSD.

 

Having gone into recovery, and being sober and clean, I’m able to work on my mental health so that I can turn it into a positive, and the change has been miraculous. It’s nothing short of a miracle.

 

I’m now a mum, to my child. I can be a partner. I can be a member of society without lying, stealing or cheating. Because I tried to change the way I get out of my head and the feelings that I don’t want. I use something else other than alcohol, drugs or any sort of activity that would take me negatively out my head.

 

So that’s my story. Thank you for listening.

 

Brokenness – poem by Hannah

 

Value in myself of brokenness in my chest, telling myself. You’re a mess.

Who wants you broken?

I tried to piece myself back together.

But the pieces don’t fit back into place.

I was not made to fit perfectly into the human race.

Brokenness repaired seems to leave me pretty scared.

And my ugliness keeps me held in these chains.

Of bondage of self that can’t be broken.

Unless I hold out my hand and ask for help.

The pain gets through the cracks of my brokenness and it reflects upon the people I want to caress.

I push them away. Then scream.

Why didn’t you stay?

Why did you leave me this way?

Fragile in my brokenness.

Handle with care. Don’t make a mess.

Because I confess that is hard to handle my brokenness.

Beautiful brokenness is something to be admired and adored.

Not to be further torn apart.

These fragile feelings in my heart. That need love. And care.

Hugs, comfort, and prayer.