When you are the child of a suicidal parent

The death of my Mother is something which I have been prepared for since a young age. When you are the child of a suicidal parent you learn how to make preparations for yourself for the worst, spending years thinking of how you will cope, what this will mean for your future and how it is possibly your fault that your “caregiver” is so sad that they don’t want to live. For a child this is confusing at best and life shattering at worst. Understanding the complex nature of suicide is something most adults are unable to cope with, let alone a child still developing their own grasp on existence and surviving what life throws at them.

My Mother has Bipolar which is a mood disorder – a severe mental illness with mood swings including manic highs and depressive lows, alternating episodes of mania and depression are pervasive throughout an individuals life. Bipolar increases the risk of suicide by 20 times and The World Health Organisation identifies bipolar as one of the top causes of lost years of life and health by 15 to 44 year olds. 

My mother has always seemed to think I am oblivious, however from the age of 8 I began to see my mother slip away and her illness start to take grip of everything that made my Mother my Mother. Her moods became erratic, her temper – palpable and her tongue sharp with abusive slurs, yet still I saw nothing wrong with her, she was my Mummy and had stayed when my Father had abandoned me, so she had to be the best mother in the world , no?

The day I realised my Mother wanted to die was the day I saw her in the bath with cuts all over her, it was the time period that my mother didn’t get out of bed and the curtains didn’t get drawn, it was when she fully left me as my mother and attempted suicide several times, it was when she was put into a psychiatric hospital but left me at 11 years old with a teenager, who was unwell herself. It was when I was raped at 15 and put into an NHS psychiatric hospital and my Mother abandoned me and checked herself into a private psychiatric hospital because she was at risk, she didn’t want to save her child and care for her, she wanted to die.

Defending herself and her bad parenting jumping back and forth when it suites her, blaming everything as a consequence to her illness, attempting to let herself off the hook for just “being there” and not walking out (which I was made to feel was a tremendous task). Adults, including doctors – regularly stated to me throughout my childhood and teens: “do you realise you are the victim of circumstance Charlotte?” or asking “do you resent your Mother for being this way with you?”. My answer was always the same – no! Some adults even suggested she was abusive to me, which I was in no way ready to accept or believe, I did not understand this, admitting this would mean both my parents were unable to love me or care for me in a healthy way.

The truth is I felt sorry for my mother, I still do have an overwhelming amount of empathy for her. I feel she is stuck in a loop, a romanticised view of loneliness and melancholy has hold of her and is never going to let her go. In a perpetual spin, blaming everyone else for life’s disappointments and suffocating me with her negativity. Love doesn’t seem to be at the forefront of my Mothers focus, having been told repeatedly that life gives us choices and that no one else is responsible for our choices (advice she is never able to take herself). I was told that if she upsets me that it is “my problem”, that if I take offence that she or others have not given offence. Telling me I am too sensitive, high maintenance, a drama queen, a baby or just lacking a sense of humour. I believed these labels for a long time, occasionally these judgements come flooding back, which triggers my BPD – leading me to be unable at regulating my emotions and becoming highly unstable as a consequence.

In amongst my Mothers suicidal ideation I too started to see the allure of death and my first suicide attempt was at 12 years old, whilst my Mother was in hospital after a suicide attempt and breakdown. For 5 years I stood over the edge of a cliff, attempting to jump, still remembering the feelings that consumed me; that life was pain and death was the cure.

Children with a parent who has attempted suicide have nearly a five-fold increased risk of attempting suicide themselves, new research shows. Results from a longitudinal, prospective study showed a direct effect of a parent’s suicide attempt on a suicide attempt by their child, even after taking into account a history of previous suicide attempt by the offspring and familial transmission of a mood disorder.

Bipolar is a serious illness, as are my illnesses: borderline personality disorder, complex post traumatic disorder and psychotic depression (just to name a few), however my Mother sees her Bipolar as a badge of honour, as a get out of jail card and an explanation for everything. Never taking my illnesses seriously, suggesting that I was mimicking her, when I first showed signs at 11 – ironically relinquishing herself from all responsibility and diminishing my experiences and pain. Getting angry at me for being suicidal – the cheek! For most of my life she has made it abundantly clear that I am not worth living for or taking care of when it comes to the big stuff.

Seeing my Mother as a human being , not just a parent is possible for me, I realised that she did not choose to be severely ill when I was around 18. My Mother did not realise she married a child abuser (my Father) or could she have predicted her own illness, however she did choose to have me, I was actually planned, now this choice is one that seems to be brushed under the carpet, yet – this is the choice which I judge. They weren’t children, uneducated or religious, they made a very conscious decision, one that in hindsight was a hideous mistake.

However I am able to be grateful to my Mother for doing the basics, for giving me valuable advice and for helping me be the activist I am today. For introducing me to art, literature and my French heritage, there have been lovely times, we have laughed. The holidays we took or the deep discussions we had about life, politics, philosophy and social injustice. I admire my Mother for many reasons and I have never stopped loving her.

Is love enough? It could have been, if the foundations of my life had been maintained, cared for and not left to rot. But now? No. Love is not enough. At 34 with the relentless stress of fearing most days that I shall receive a phone call – telling me my Mother has taken her own life, I am unable to have a relationship with her. She has taken my ability to function when around her and has left me a hollow shell of inabilities. As I write this I imagine her response to this statement, she would say: “I did not take anything from you, you chose to give it away”. Mind fuckery at every corner, a grand manipulator of logic and a riddler with words.

To this day she taunts me with her last will and testament which she has be preparing for nearly 10 years, maybe longer – it feels like longer. The “death file”( which I named), is referenced at every opportunity, making it seem that she is continually putting her affairs in order so that she can take the next step. My husband and friends are understandably complaisant and reassure me that she is just being manipulative and trying to control me. This I don’t doubt to be true – however my Mother has bipolar and is at risk.

In an ideal world there would be enough support for those wishing to start a family and established parents with mental illness, there would be intervention at appropriate times, that patients who are parents within the private psychiatric services are treated as those in the NHS services with children – social workers being made aware of any dependants and assessing the safety of the child within the home. There is no doubt in my mind that my Mother needed more support when she was raising me – I feel for her with this. However she has a part to play, she had choices and she certainly could have learnt by now, after 34 years, that the psychological warfare she has taken against my mental health could have stopped before now.

Still my heart stops every time the phone rings…

Make it Stop - Art and Poetry by Charlotte Farhan
Make it Stop – Art by Charlotte Farhan

 

The Looking Glass – Identity on the Borderline

The Looking Glass - By Charlotte Farhan
The Looking Glass – By Charlotte Farhan

When identity is unstable life can feel as if you are staring through a mirror wondering what the “other side” means ?

Like Alice who questions the world on the other side of the mirror’s reflection – before stepping through and entering an alternative world; our concept of self is greatly developed from infancy through our interpersonal interactions and mirrored back through society.  Suggesting that we have a tendency to understand ourselves through our understanding of how others see and judge us; this is thought to be how we develop and understand our own identity.

As a child we learn how our crying, smiling and silence elicits a response from our caregivers, this forms our first mirroring and understanding of how we are perceived and responded to. This continues throughout our interactions and learning.

“The thing that moves us to pride or shame is not the mere mechanical reflection of ourselves, but an imputed sentiment, the imagined effect of this reflection upon another’s mind.”

(Cooley 1964)

(The looking-glass self is a social psychological concept introduced by Charles Horton Cooley in 1902 (McIntyre 2006). The term “looking glass self” was coined by Cooley in his work, Human Nature and the Social Order in 1902.)

There are three main components that comprise the looking-glass self

(Yeung, et al. 2003).

  • We imagine how we must appear to others.
  • We imagine and react to what we feel their judgement of that appearance must be.
  • We develop our self through the judgements of others.

As a person who has Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) – identity is something which has always been an issue for me and so many other sufferers. My entire life seems to have been an identity crisis and it is one of the 9 traits you have to have in order to be diagnosed with BPD.

The specific issues which concern the stability of self in BPD sufferers is exhibited in:

  • Fragmentation – Which is in no way as dominating or persistent in BPD as it is in Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), however it still causes many issues. BPD can make it so you have adaptive personalities depending on who you are with and what scenario you are in – which to some extent most people do. BPD however causes this to be such separate fragmentations of the self that it is disturbing for us – the sufferers, to a degree it damages our personal relationships, careers, idea of self, family life and integration into society. It also affects our memories and association to people and places as our identities can separate what is dear to one “personality/self” over the other.
  • Boundary confusion – Also known as boundary dissolution is the failure to recognise the psychological distinctiveness of individuals or a confusion of their interpersonal roles. Boundaries are believed to be established in childhood within the family setting, when roles are clarified such as who is the parent and who is the child, with a flexibility to create close bonds and also have a separateness allowing you to build your “self”.

Kenji Kameguchi (1996) likens boundaries to a

“membrane” that surrounds each individual and subsystem in the family. Like the membrane around a cell, boundaries need to be firm enough to ensure the integrity of the cell and yet permeable enough to allow communication between cells. Overly rigid boundaries might constrict family relationships and limit family members’ access to one another (e.g., “children should be seen and not heard”), whereas overly permeable or blurred boundaries might lead to confusion between the generations (e.g., “who is the parent and who is the child?”

[Hiester 1995]).

  • Lack of cohesion and continuity of the self across situations and life history – Most individuals who have secure identities do so because they remember themselves as the same individual they have always been. Noticing the changes one experiences with age, experience and gained knowledge, developing their core identity through life’s stages. BPD doesn’t allow for this due to the fragmented self which has been present throughout our lives, causing perceived gaps of identity knowledge and incompatible memories. Timelines become confusing when remembering what past events mean in regards to identity.

“I don’t know who I am”

“I don’t know what I want”

“I don’t know how I should handle this situation”

These questions seem harmless to most – however when you have BPD these questions are so confusing that emotional stability is compromised and becomes dangerous if we are not supported or receiving some kind of treatment. These questions are second nature and the answers come to mind with a certain amount of ease when you do not suffer from psychological identity issues – something taken for granted by most.

When you have BPD you are seen by different people as polar opposites at different points in your life or even at the same time, such as myself; I am seen by many in my life as a self righteous, egocentric, judgemental, scary, aggressive, rude person. However I am also seen by many as an inspiration, kind, loving, empathetic, polite, selfless person. Many people without BPD may encounter this kind of reaction from certain people, contradicting what makes you, you. This doesn’t phase well adjusted stable personalities as they know who they are and realise they are probably a combination of things to different people due to differing interactions and other peoples personalities. With BPD this causes self annihilation, an instability of emotions and further fragmentation and less awareness of the self.

“who do I believe – me or me or you”

In truth – at times I feel as if my identity is a game of guess who; or that this confused dissociated state is in fact a malevolent monster controlling and interchanging me – to torture me.

Friends, family and people who have crossed my path along the way will have no idea to a certain extent that these different identities exist within me or at different times in my life. The ones who remember are those who I have split, those who got to meet the protective identity, the no empathy, unforgiving, hateful identity – who has kept me alive in times of pure distress. These people have gone from being idealised to then being devalued and thrown away. The hardest part is being aware of this, of others being more aware of this – knowing I can rip you off the pedestal in which I created for you at any time just because you reveal to me that you are in fact human and fallible.

Sometimes the mirror reflects back that no one really knows me, so in turn I can’t know myself – which then brings about the depersonalisation and not feeling as if I exist at all.

The looking glass is the perfect metaphor for how this feels – knowing one reflection is in one world and another in the next. Feeling unreal or full of identities fighting to be seen or wanting to hide. Not knowing when in front of the mirror – who will reflect back.

 


References 

Hiester, M.”Who’s the parent and who’s the child: generational boundary dissolution between mothers and their children.” paper presented at the biennial meeting of the society for research in child development, Indianapolis,1995.

Yeung, King-To, and Martin, John Levi. “The Looking Glass Self: An Empirical Test and Elaboration.” Social Forces 81, no. 3 (2003): 843–879.


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Our Journey so Far – Me and my Psychiatric Assistance Dog

 

This is our journey so far…

Amadeus is a 13 month old standard poodle who is my psychiatric assistance dog and he is helping me gain some independence, access to the outside world, exercise and he also gives me things I can not get from human interaction. The conditions and illnesses which Amadeus aids me with are Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Agoraphobia, Generalised Anxiety Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Psychotic Depression, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and Autistic Spectrum Disorder.

The requirement for me to have an assistance dog was in fact my last hope in having a more fulfilled life, in this able focused and neuro-typical world. Due to sever mental illnesses I have been unable to lead a “normal” life for over 11 years and some things have never been achievable.

When using the word “normal”, I use it in the sense that many things achieved by able people are taken for granted, such as being able to leave your home with ease everyday, crossing roads, being outside independently, going into shops and other establishments, speaking to strangers or service people, taking public transport, being able to drive, listening to music on headphones, meeting friends, going to hospital/doctor appointments…

the list goes on…

Very kindly a close friend of mine started a GoFundMe page and raised enough money for me to get Amadeus and all the things we needed to get the show on the road. People from all over the world donated and before I knew it, we were taking Amadeus home and the rest is history.

So in under a year I have achieved a great deal with Amadeus; starting with simply stepping outside my front door with him and closing the doors behind us whilst no one else was home – this was my first and most challenging of exercises.

Then we walked up the road and started with the closest cul-de-sac, completing this for up to two weeks at a time, then moving onto the next. Eventually mastering  three and staying in this comfort zone until I was ready to go past a busy pub and cross a small road by a large cul-de-sac. By this point I genuinely was astonished by my progress and felt a sense of freedom which would make me promise myself to never let go or go back – a lot of pressure but I have no “happy” medium abilities, it is black and white or nothing.

After this achievement my sights were set on going further up our road to a small green in front of an old Victorian prison, knowing this would be ideal for Amadeus to do his business and for me to be near some kind of nature – with trees and grass (even though it is next to a main road and very busy roundabout). This feat was very challenging, managing to do this once a week and slowly progressing to be able to do it more regularly over several weeks, before committing this as the place we would walk everyday.

By this point Amadeus was getting to be almost one and a feeling of rebirth flowed through my veins. So one day impulsively I decided to go the other way from my front gate, up the road and over a busy bridge to the cemetery behind my house, as this was something I could do without crossing any main roads  – plus it would give me an abundance of nature, things to look at and a longer walk for Amadeus.

We did it!

However this was impulsively done which was me jumping up my ladder and not safely stepping up one rung at a time, which is a trait due to my Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). This meant I was wiped out for almost two weeks due to the exhaustion of doing something so outside of my comfort zone, which of course made me have sever anxiety symptoms – even though at the time it was enjoyable, but when you get the same adrenaline from walking up the road to a cemetery as someone bungy jumping or sky diving – it can be a really surreal feeling.

My next challenge is crossing a main road in front of my house which luckily has a pedestrian crossing and then walking straight down small residential roads to a beautiful pond and recreational field. My plan is to try and achieve this, this summer, which will be my greatest achievement so far. Amadeus will be able to go off lead in the field, we can walk around the pond, watch the wildlife, sit and read or listen to music; it is something I dream about constantly.

Even though this has changed my life, there are still days I can not go out, there are days when being outside is like being assaulted by every piece of sensory information at once, leaving me unable to process details and all I can do is rest and recover.

So if you have never thought of how privileged you are to leave your home in a carefree manner and when interacting with the outside world and its tasks it is no big deal to you; then I challenge you to think of what your life would be like if you were unable to do these things?

 


As a small art project I documented my journey so far with Amadeus and distorted the images to show the different sensory issues I encounter when outside. This was challenging as simply taking the photos by busy roads was disorientating, however with Amadeus keeping me grounded and helping me feel present and real I was able to do a lot more than I thought I would. There is a slide show, all images underneath and some videos.

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Ableism and Fertility – When online support groups turn against the vulnerable

Last Friday I woke up in my usual state of anxiety and dissociation, having spent what seemed like a life time of nightmares that night – when I had finally focused my mind on the day ahead my heart felt heavy and my mind was attentive to the fact I am infertile due to many factors and can not receive fertility treatment or adopt. The root of my issue is that I suffer from polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS), which developed in my early twenties after battling with anorexia and bulimia chronically for 8 years resulting in hospital treatment, ignoring my diagnosis due to embarrassment – as it made me feel a lack of control over my body my condition worsened. Having battled (and still battling) disorder eating and withholding food this news made me feel “fat and lazy” especially upon reading the information available on my illness – the stigma associated with PCOS is shocking, the symptoms of high testosterone in my body made me feel embarrassed as I started to grow unwanted hair – my self esteem was already in tatters so this was the last straw. Due to ignoring this diagnosis I developed type 2 diabetes just before I turned 30 and then my life as a woman trying to conceive changed forever.

Whilst feeling severely depressed and alone at the end of last week,  I turned (like many people) to a support group on Facebook called PCOS Tribe UK which having been a member for a while even though I had never posted, seemed a great place to find some support, so whilst shaking with adrenaline and seeing lights flickering over my eyes I wrote a post:

 

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I understand this was a very vague post, but not knowing how or what to say this felt like a way to open the conversation up as I was feeling so unable in myself and struggling with communication. Within seconds I received a reply and was hopeful that it would lead to some support and empathy with people who were also experiencing these difficult things. At first all seemed good I received this:

(For the privacy of these women I have made their identities unknown – as this is a private group and I would not wish their personal medical circumstances to be displayed without their consent.)

 

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Upon receiving this initial comment I felt a sense of relief that a dialogue had opened up with someone on this subject, also very much appreciating the:

“but maybe your circumstances are different than mine”

This felt like my opportunity to explain my situation further. Before I could even contemplate what to write the sound of notifications rang in my ears as my phone received new replies and comments on my post. Quickly my relief turned into more anxiety and my mind started to fog, the lights got brighter and my body and mind were sending me clear signals that I was under attack, so the defences went up.

 

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The first reply here is patronising and assumes they know my circumstances before I have even had a chance to explain and as I am sure you can read, her sweeping of my differing circumstances under the rug is in fact very silencing. Assuming we have been through the same thing is also a very big mistake when discussing these issues – I appreciate what she was possibly trying to do, but it was misjudged, so whilst trying to find a way to eloquently reply, of course the other lady was still being very kind and empathetic, which made me continue:

 

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On another screen on my phone I was desperately trying to write a reply which stated the reasons to which personally conceiving a baby is just not in my future, wanting to explain why fertility treatment has been denied to me on the NHS and why adoption is impossible when you have sever psychiatric disorders and physical disabilities, but the notifications kept coming and my anxiety as well as impulse control was pushing at my temples, making me feel obsessive and compulsive with rapid thoughts misfiring, it was painful physically as well as emotionally overpowering.

 

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As you can see my response is short and frustrated, it may have come across rude, but I have not got the same social abilities as “neurotypical” people, so direct is how I communicate especially when under pressure. The women were of course still trying to be helpful and there is no doubt in my mind that they were offering this advice in kindness. However so much of this is misguided, privileged and ableist as well as factually incorrect. Women kept stating to me that the ONLY way you could be certain you were completely unable to conceive is if all your female reproductive organs had been removed? This of course is not at all correct as there are many reasons why a woman can not conceive from physical illnesses as well as socio-economic reasons. Also as a woman who can’t have children it is never helpful to have other women push their success and fertility down your throat when they have not afforded you the time and courtesy to explain exactly why your inability to have children is a fact.

 

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(the reason that my image and name is blanked out is because these were taken on the group (PCOS Tribe UK) owner’s phone/computer and were put up on her Facebook profile – which I saved as I was removed from the group before I got to screen shot everything, may I add this is the only one she blanked my name and picture from, all the rest disclosed who I was in a public setting disclosing my infertility and medical issues)

This particular screen shot and comment of me hurt and made me feel mocked and dismissed. Apparently it was only acceptable of me to take advice on trying to conceive, NOT acceptable however to seek help in accepting that I shall not get the chance to have children due to my health and circumstances. Is it so wrong to have tried everything in your capabilities to conceive and seek help but still be denied or unsuccessful and then seek help in the acceptance of this? The only reason I came to the group was to seek help from women who for whatever reason could not have children – never thinking that I would be shamed for seeking this. It felt like for this woman, me seeking acceptance and help with this was an attack on her or the “wrong” thing to do as a woman.

My responses were apparently not acceptable and deemed abusive. But it was acceptable to suggest to me that I ask a friend who may wish to have an abortion if she would carry her child fall term for me to adopt?

The bombardment continued:

 

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I was abrupt – yes! But rude – no, you can see I am trying to explain myself and my disabilities but it is going so fast. Still desperately writing my explanation on another screen hoping that when these women understand my position they will know I was not being rude. By now the tears have begun to fall and my mind is experiencing tunnel vision.

Then the lady who replied to me first – who was kind and empathetic posted a comment, unfortunately I wasn’t able to send my reply as the admin had stopped all comments, as you can see from the red alert. I wanted to thank this lady for her kindness. And was still trying to reply to her first comment and explain myself.:

 

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Desperately I said several times on peoples replies “I am neuro-divegent” or “I have neurological damage I can’t process information that quickly”, hoping this would alert admins to my situation, hoping for some assistance but unfortunately I got this final reply from an admin and then was removed from the group:

 

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The decision and action taken by the groups owner and admins, was so upsetting, in disbelief of my removal I started a new explanation and wanted to post it on the groups wall to explain myself in the hope admin would see their error of silencing a woman just seeking support who couldn’t keep up and explain themselves in time due to their neurodiversity and disabilities. The other issue which caused me great distress is the fact the admins saw me pleading in regards to my disabilities and my inability to process this information and communicate at the speed neuro-typical people do. That instead of making this group and support accessible to me they deemed me a trouble maker who had only come to this group to cause arguments? Which may I add is an odd conclusion to make so abruptly and without hearing me out – however as a person who suffers from mental illness I am used to this kind of stigma. So I screen shot the reply I was trying to write which is when Facebook told me I was not able to post in the group anymore (hence why it is faded):

 

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But this was never seen and that was it I was banished. Left crying and feeling even more alone – like a freak, a troublemaker. Seeking some help as I was feeling very vulnerable and out of control and as someone who can not leave the house most of the time – panic set in and the fear of having a psychotic episode which could lead me to hurt myself was terrifying. Whilst trying to focus I reached out to my FB friends, family and followers as they are such wonderful supportive allies and know my situation, I wrote this:

 

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As soon as this status went public I started to receive friend requests and message requests from several different women, naively I thought they were sending me these requests to support me after what had happened. Unfortunately I was mistaken, the owner of the group was the first and as soon as I accepted her friend request she commented on my status:

(As this is a public post and this woman “Jane Mann” wrote this on my public post on my public profile no ones identity has been blanked out.)

 

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As you can read “Jane Mann” still misses the point entirely and still thinks it is acceptable to treat me this way and wishes to silence me further, and does not accept any criticism of her group. As this is on my profile my friends, family and followers become very protective of me and help tell Jane to back off. I then block Jane.

More women sent me (and anyone who commented on my status) abuse and friend requests, after this one of my friends sends Jane a message telling her in no uncertain terms to leave me alone – I did not ask for this to be done (although very grateful) however I do not know what Jane Mann expected when she made herself public on my profile.

Then the messages begun – I did not accept most of the requests however I did with this lady:

 

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As you can read she is very angry with me and my situation. This woman thinks I should be able to disclose my disabilities up front with no issue and if not – then that is my fault, which is of course a very able privileged view point. Also stating that because I had not posted before that this meant I was suspicious? She also questions if this (wanting to conceive and raise children of my own) is actually something I truly want, because I didn’t just shut up and accept advice which was actually not relevant to me as I CAN NOT CONCEIVE, but was never given enough time to explain exactly why this is so! Also she suggests I am a liar because I said these women “attacked” me, but doesn’t understand that feeling attacked by a large number of women overwhelming me with information at an unrealistic speed for me to keep up with is also a valid description of being “attacked” they of course did not pounce on me literally they attacked me figuratively through their ableism and dismissing my disabilities. I felt attacked! This very angry woman also says “if you had posted correctly” then apparently I would have been helped, I was unaware that there was a correct way to post – if I had known I certainly would have not joined the group or posted as this is too restrictive for me and confusing. As stated before – that morning there was no way in which I was able to write a long post explaining every detail of my infertility, physical and mental illnesses, disabilities, neuro-diversity and circumstances, not only because I was unwell but also due to the unwanted stigma that my circumstances can cause. Also her focus is on the number of women, I said “about 15” – for me this included all responses however I may have counted some people twice due to certain people posting more than once, in the confusion this is very possible – a valid argument against me – no!

This got nastier and nastier as this woman messaged everyone who had commented on my status or liked it – harassing people all because of this situation. Then this woman took it upon herself to go to my non-profit /charity organisation FB page Art Saves Lives International (ASLI) and do this:

 

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(since this attack either the woman or Facebook have removed this review)

 

Not only was this a step too far and nothing to do with ASLI as I was never in the group PCOS Tribe UK representing ASLI – I was there as Charlotte Farhan. This went on and on and she disclosed my infertility and medical issues here on this page. Not my public profile which anyone can access – not my public art page on Facebook which is just me. No this woman attacked this page and gave a fake review of an organisation which she had never heard of, all because I was unable to explain my disabilities and circumstances in the PCOS Tribe UK group in a satisfactory and speedily manner in order to receive advice I did not ask for or need by ableist privileged women.

My friend and a member of the ASLI team received a threat of physical harm and her art page on Facebook was attacked by these women:

 

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I received more the next day:

 

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Then my husband was alerted to Jane Mann (the owner of PCOS Tribe UK) sharing my information on her private profile as well as allowing people to discriminate against me and a friend after my mental illnesses and disabilities had been confirmed, this was in an album on her profile named “Evidence” along with screen shots of me in the private group disclosing all my issues:

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Calling us mentally unstable – which myself and my friend who sent Jane Mann a message (no one else did) are, as we have sever mental illness, which we stated – ridiculing us is ableism.

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Calling me a psycho – ableism and stigmatising against my very real and debilitating psychiatric illness.

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Yes we do! We don’t get it due to the state of the mental health care in the UK on the NHS. This is an ableist slur and stating how it is sad we need help is stigmatising and discriminatory.

None of this needed to happen, this was avoidable and hopefully these women – especially the owner and admins will learn how they need to check their privilege, especially their able privilege as well as understanding that fertility is not only to do with your reproductive organs, that there are many women like me who are given a small window until they reach 35 (depending on their area) who if they do not fit the correct criteria are denied fertility treatment. For me due to my 5ft 11inch frame and difficulties getting down to an unrealistic BMI in under 2 years when my diabetes was so out of control due to my  pancreas shutting down – was just not possible. Then the women would say “well get a second opinion, see a fertility specialist, get fertility treatment”, which my husband and I can not afford as we are a one income household as I can not earn money due to my disabilities and we have very bad credit. As for adoption – well I do not meet the standards as my disabilities and mental illness would mean (by their assessment) that I could not adequately care for a child. I do not dispute this as I am unable to care for myself.

Due to these factors my goal now is acceptance and realising that life without children can be fulfilling and meaningful, at the time I realise grieving for what will never be is essential. My husband and I have already lost a pregnancy when i was 26 years old – just after our first scan.

There is no malice in this article just awareness and my experience being put forward, hoping that this will mean other women like me will not be silenced or shut out because they do not fit into the socially constructed ideal of being a woman and having children. I would like to thank the women who came forward to me from the group PCOS Tribe UK who offered me support and help even though they were scared of the group owner and admin removing them, there were 5 women but two wrote sensitive information which may disclose their identities so I chose not to put them here:

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*Revision – I would like to clarify that I do NOT deem all members of this group as ableist, privileged or patronising. I am only referring to the members I had experiences with which were ableist and privileged. I am certain that this group is full of wonderful women from all different perspectives and circumstances, my issue is only with the page owner, admins and the members who attacked me after being removed. I know most women who commented meant well and did not understand my situation due to my vague post. I have not written this article to detract from the “good work” this group does for other vulnerable women, but felt it essential to put my experience across and since doing so have received a lot of feedback from women within the group and out of the group who have experienced similar issues in regards to my experiences and who have also experienced ableism. I wish all these women the best and hope they have happy healthy lives (even the owner, admins and members who harassed me after being removed). I hold no hate in my heart – I only wish to highlight the issues women like me with disabilities and who are neuro-diverse experience – my voice is valid and I shall not be silenced. 

For anyone reading this who is still unaware or confused about ableism or able privilege then here are some helpful links:

What is Ableism? Five Things About Ableism You Should Know

15 Crazy Examples Of Insanely Ableist Language

Stop Ableism Inc. / Arrêter L’Ableism Inc.

10 Ways to Avoid Everyday Ableism

DISABLED WOMEN AND REPRODUCTIVE JUSTICE

Women and Girls with Disabilities

 

Thank you and if you have any comments of feedback please fill out this form:

“I am Fine” the mantra of unseen illness – By Charlotte Farhan


I am fine….

I AM FINE!

I. AM. FINE. picsart_02-16-06.14.31.jpg

However which way I say these three words they are always a lie. Not a vicious deceitful lie, but a lie which serves me well whilst simultaneously crushing me emotionally; with each utterance. This little sentence has become a habitual response to the question:

How are you?

Which is a very common occurrence, most people do not divulge their entire life story when asked how they are, it is just an extension to how we greet one another, a politeness (especially in England) to reply:

I am fine, thank you. And how are you?

However when you are really asked this question by a close member of your family, your partner, a close friend or even your therapist and you still only ever say:

I am fine. picsart_02-16-06.02.22.jpg

Well this kind of situation is what I am talking about and is what this art piece represents. This is about how self preservation means losing part of your identity, emotionally but more importantly the denial of your present state. Never allowing your armour to be compromised, focusing on other peoples problems and absorbing them, when asked about yourself you divert conversations as if they were on-coming traffic; as if your life depends on it – because it does.

The majority of the time I do not look “sick”, I have mainly unseen illnesses and my most debilitating of ailments is completely invisible to the eye. As well as this many people do not “believe” in mental illness or recognise certain neurological conditions, saying things such as:

It’s all in your head!

It’s mind over matter.

You don’t look sick. picsart_02-16-06.05.19.jpg

These statements are very unhelpful and also redundant in this context. Saying it is all in ones head is a correct statement, mental illness is in our encasement’s which we call heads, in our brains – our minds. It is not in our legs, nor our arms, it is very much a head thing. However saying it to someone as a dismissive statement is not a logical statement as it suggests that your mental illness or neurological condition should not be “in your head”. Suggesting that it maybe make believe or a lie to gain sympathy (which if you are a person who suffers from mental illness you will know this is an insult as there is no sympathy granted to the mentally ill, instead it is stigmatised). As for “you don’t look sick” this one is nothing more than an ignorant judgement, looking at someone with just ones eyes and not a full body CT scanner (which also can not see everything) there is no way to determine someones health or disability status.

Due to all this added conjecture to this particular scenario , it is not hard to understand why the “I am fine” mantra is a fail safe for so many. You get tired of explaining yourself, defending your diagnosis and dealing with people saying things like:

I don’t really believe in mental illness.

Mental illness is a conspiracy to control and label us.

Mental illness is just mental weakness.

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So the simple solution is to pretend that you are fine, that you do not need help, that you are not “weak” or “dangerous”, for every mental illness denier there is another person who believes we should all be locked up and not trusted due to the stigmatisation and misinformation on both the mentally ill and those with criminal intent.

This may be the simplest of solutions but it comes at a cost to most. You see there is only a finite amount of space in ones emotional storage unit and the continuous throwing anything and everything that you wish to hide in there can mean that you reach a time you can’t shut the door anymore, let alone lock it. This can lead to you bursting and spilling out onto everything around you or it can mean you just implode – self detonate.

Truthfully for me it is a constant battle inside my head, of not wanting to alienate people or scare people with my overwhelming emotional instability and behavioural abnormalities – having to remain stoic by being the person who people come to, the provider, the rescuer. Against letting it all out, a completely “no shits given” attitude, a liberating freedom of being able to just be me, all parts of me at all levels of intensity. This of course is very black and white and a thought process due to my borderline personality disorder, the middle ground does not tend to exist in my world, it sometimes appears but rarely when experiencing high emotions. To pass off the “strong” persona I have to use the “I am fine” line a lot, which is a kind of middle ground, at least it is when one is trying to manage social boundaries and interpersonal relationships – which to me are like alien concepts that cause feelings of being an outsider.

Charlotte Farhan

There have been times in my past when “I am fine” was a defence mechanism as I was in denial about my illnesses and wished to hide the entire idea from myself, blaming my emotions and behaviours on alcohol, drugs and being a “bitch”, that crazy girl thing was easy to flip and present myself to the world as a “bad” person in my twenties – so I stuck to it. People even liked this persona, some celebrated it by telling me they loved my “fuck you attitude” and loved to see me being abusive to others or violent. If the other side, the vulnerable side – was presented (which was me during my teens, from 11 yrs to 20 yrs old) people looked at me as an emotional drain, a liability, dangerous, scary, I became an undesirable human. At these times of no control self harm, suicide attempts, eating disorders, psychosis, machiavellianism, disinhibition and an emotional sensitivity that was never-ending was my way of life. I learnt valuable lessons on survival and how to mimic other humans as a visiting entity from the planet “strange”, using manipulation to gain friends and taking on other identities which were visible to me as ideals, I could be the most popular person in the room or the most disliked, this was not up to my audience or friends, this was up to me and my chameleon like personality. The important thing is I have forgiven myself for being this way, knowing now this was and still is a neurological condition and a perfectly OK way to survive when you have only ever known trauma.

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Now that I am in my thirties things have got to a point that my life is more introspective and having the perspective of an “adult” allows me to look at my teens and twenties more objectively and see how and why I had to survive this way when there were no adults parenting me and keeping me safe. Being an adult in this way means that when I look back I ask different questions than I did before, such as:

Where were your parents?

How long were you left on your own?

How was it looking after yourself at such a young age?

Did you have to grow up quickly?

There is a draw back to being older however, my emotions get buried deeper, I detach more and say “I am fine” even more than ever. Wanting to be liked for me, not wanting to buy friends or manipulate them to like me, not wanting to be the extreme me who needs someone to safeguard them at all times, not wanting to be the rescuer and the “strong” one all the time. Wanting people to understand my pain more, I want and need actual medical support for my disabilities but am not at a vulnerable age anymore, so am taken less seriously. Hiding in medication and being likeable and not too intense feels like a life sentence:

But still all I can say is:

I am fine!

 


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Growth – Art and Short Story – By Charlotte Farhan

Growth By Charlotte Farhan
Growth By Charlotte Farhan

 

Growth – A short story by Charlotte Farhan

 

Hope was a young woman who carried around sadness, as if it were a suitcase of old belongings she had lost the key for a long time ago. Hope wanted to be free of this baggage that weighed her down each day; wishing she could take flight as if she were a bird heading for warmer weather.

One day Hope felt a pressure in her head as if something was trying to escape, it pushed at her temples and made her ears pop. The feeling was excruciating and left hope feeling overwhelmed and scared. Suddenly something was in her mouth, it had made its way up her throat and was now sitting on her tongue as if it were a pill waiting to be swallowed. Instead she went to the mirror apprehensively and opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, to her disbelief a perfectly intact leaf sat there, she reached into her mouth and carefully took the leaf out to examine. It was an ordinary leaf, from a tree or plant and it was a glorious green. Hope was very much perturbed by this turn of events, feeling very tired suddenly and still suffering from an intense headache, the only thing left to do was go to bed.

Upon waking the next morning after what felt like a years worth of sleep, Hope opened her eyes and could only see green; she wiped them and blinked repetitively, hoping it was just a dream. As the green came into focus she realised that she was surrounded by branches and on those branches grew leaves like the one she had found in mouth the night before. Hope was unable to move as she was in so much disbelief regarding these events before her. In an attempt to move her head in order to sit up, she felt trapped; her head was heavy and felt as if it was tied to her bead posts. Hope reached into her bedside cabinet and blindly hunted for a small hand mirror she knew was there, finally she found it and opened it up to see what was holding her down. When hope looked at her reflection she did not trust what she could see; it was surreal. Hope had somehow – overnight, grown branches out of her head, there was no blood or pain and the tree looked the healthiest she had ever seen a tree to be.

Hope was able to free herself from her bed and navigate her way to her bathroom, she washed her face and brushed her teeth, rustling around as the leaves touched. It was a struggle to get dressed as her head weight pulled her down – if she was not careful, but eventually she was ready to go outside. Hope lived in the middle of nowhere and had acres of land beyond her garden. This was a relief to Hope as the idea of seeing anyone right now filled her with dread as she didn’t know how she would explain her appearance. The aim she had in mind was to go to the woods and see if she could find a matching tree and maybe this would bring about some sort of explanation.

Hope ducked under her door frame and stepped outside into her garden, she looked around and the world seemed the same, nothing obvious had changed so she proceeded down her path to her gate. As Hope closed her gate and looked back at her little home she felt a sense of loss but couldn’t put her finger on why she felt this way. With no further thought she walked toward the woods and was determined to find answers.

The trees looked dense and there was a darkness – that you would think would fill you with fear, however it was inviting. As Hope approached the edge of the trees, she stopped and heard a noise and felt something moving about “up there” on her head, in her branches. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out the hand mirror she retrieved earlier and took a look to see what was going on. It was a beautiful bird, sat there looking at her; before she could think of what to do the bird started to sing. The most beautiful of melodies came out of this delightful creature, she felt calmer and prepared to carry on. Thinking to herself:

I shall name the bird Journey.

Hope and Journey entered the woods and manoeuvred their way through the trees, trying not to get her branches tangled with the foliage. Inspecting each tree she passed, looking at each leaf desperately trying to find answers to her predicament. All the while listening to Journey sooth her with song. Suddenly she heard a new tune and it was complementing Journey’s. Once again Hope got her hand mirror out and glanced to see what was happening. Another beautiful bird was sat up there harmonising with Journey. Now hope thought it only fair to name this bird too:

I shall name this bird Duality.

Hope, Journey and Duality continued on their path searching and singing together in perfect harmony. Suddenly a clearing appeared, it was a circular clearing with one lonely tree in the middle, it was huge and looked to be well over a hundred years old. It was so big you could build a small home in its trunk. Hope continued towards it and could see something glistening in the sunshine, it was hanging from the tree. As she approached it another beautiful bird flew down from the other tree and it too had something dangling from its mouth, it was a key. Both items were keys and before she could process what was happening the bird dropped the key into her hands and took a perch in her branches. Hope compared the two keys and they were the same except for their colour – one being blue and the other pink.

what could this mean?

Hope thought to herself.

The third bird joined in with the singing and looked at home with Journey and Duality. Hope put both keys in her pocket with her mirror and started to inspect the tree before her, the leaves were the same as hers, the branches were identical and the aroma was a perfect match. But how and why had this tree which naturally grew from the ground, also grown from Hope’s head and what were the keys purpose. This thought was so tiring and complex to understand, as nothing seemed real or based on the natural order of things, so Hope surmised that if and when she needed to know these things, they would unveil themselves to her in good time.

The third bird seemed to complete the harmony so exceptionally, the sound was enchanting, it made Hope feel less weighed down by her past and her sadness, it elevated her to a place which felt unlike any other, it was as if she had found her home. Not the kind of home she had left behind earlier, it was not that of bricks and mortar it was the sense that home existed inside her – meaning that she was always home and this feeling made Hope feel whole.

 Hope suddenly had a thought and said:

I shall call this third bird Transcendence.

This name felt fitting as this is what she felt upon meeting this bird and hearing the symphony this trio had created made her feel that she had gone beyond ordinary limitations. Hope sat beneath the tree and lay against it, with her branches touching the other tree’s, weaving herself into a comfortable position. Journey, Duality and Transcendence began to sing a slower melody, lulling Hope with a lullaby, soon she was asleep and the sun set. As Hope slept her branches curved around her creating a blanket of leaves and all three birds nuzzled into Hope and one another.

When Hope woke up the next morning she was alone and she felt different, she raised her hands to her head and all she felt was her hair and beneath it her head, simple skin and bone. It was a relief that she had returned to her normal state, however she was sad to loose her friends, Journey, Duality and Transcendence. When she stood up and turned to the tree she had laid under all night, she was shocked to find a door. In front of the door were three little parcels made out of leaves, one was filled with nuts and berries, the second was a cup shape with water and the third was a little growing bud, ready to be planted. Hope ate the berries and nuts, drank the water and carefully put the bud in her pocket, which is when she remembered she had two keys, she pulled them out and went to the door – but neither worked which perplexed Hope very much indeed. Then she had an overwhelming feeling that this door was not for her and she felt strongly that the blue key was the correct key, so she hung it on the door knob and decided to return home.

On Hope’s journey back she started to ponder what this all meant, knowing that her life had been filled with pain from her past she wondered if this was a wake up call from some kind of higher power – such as the force which aligns us and keeps the earth spinning, the sun rising and setting and the tides drawing in and out. Was it a window into the in between, with the duality of body and mind had she found the centre, the answer to – what are mental states and what are physical states? Had she experienced a mental state which took her to another world where trees growing out of heads, bird friends, keys, magical trees and little doors were the norm. Or were these things physically there, tangible and part of the order we know to exist, just undiscovered? Or possibly she had transcended, moving beyond physical needs and realities.

Before she knew it, Hope was at her gate and could see her little home which when she left yesterday she had felt such loss, today she felt excited to return home and be amongst the things she knew to be real. Once Hope had opened the gate and walked up the path she was met by a small trinket box with three beautiful feathers beautifully attached to it, as if they were a gift tag, she knew these patterns they were from her friends; Journey, Duality and Transcendence, this made Hope smile and she knelt down to open the box, inside was a tiny note which read:

Plant the bud, watch it grow – in dirt and darkness, watch it burst through to reach the light, tend to it, water it and even when nothing moves know that growth happens from within and one day you will have a tree which will nourish you with fruit and bring you shade when weary. This growth is part of you physically and mentally, it is your journey and being beyond the limits of all possible experience and knowledge you have transcended from your past and hold the key to your future.

Hope felt a tear fall from her eye and she felt such relief, she reached into her pocket and got the pink key and placed it around her neck as a reminder of her lesson, she then hurried indoors to fetch her gardening tools so she could plant the bud. When she returned outside her three friends were all splashing away in the bird bath, chirping with delight. Hope knew this was the beginning of a new adventure and that there was no turning back.


If you enjoyed this story and like the artwork please leave a comment or question in the contact form provided:


 

Fragile – Illustration and Poetry By Charlotte Farhan

Fragile

My emotions are encased in glass,

self preservation enclosed them there,

in a mason jar
for safe keeping,

fear like a snake in the grass,

infectious despair
simply to scare,

in my jar
I am left weeping.

Fragility is never a choice,

does the ant get to choose it’s height?

does a butterfly design it’s wings?

I hear “stay safe”
from my little voice,

“fear not”
I reply
“this jar is airtight”,

Outside is not for me
for I see the sadness it brings.


Fragile - By Charlotte Farhan
Fragile – By Charlotte Farhan

 


 

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The darkness creeps in – Art and Poetry By Charlotte Farhan

The darkness creeps in - art and poetry by charlotte farhan
The Darkness Creeps in – By Charlotte Farhan

Hearing everyone else cry
but no one asks
tears fall easier for them
my cheeks still dry
every day adjusting masks
staring at the sun
happy to comply
the darkness creeps in.

Mother loves with conditions
distance is key
with my confused contrition
more sadness dies
ignite the family tree
save ammunition
guilt injected lies
the darkness creep in.

Privilege protects them all
the abusers
predators blame accusers
before nightfall
enablers allow for this
take it on the chin
bury it within
the darkness creeps in.

Reality is fleeting
inside nothing
never staying in focus
with eyes bleeding
letting in all the nothings
hopeless neurosis
crushing psychosis
the darkness creeps in.


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Clouding of Consciousness – Art and Poetry by Charlotte Farhan

Clouding of Consciousness by Charlotte Farhan
Clouding of Consciousness by Charlotte Farhan

Clouding of consciousness,
adaptive defence kicks in,
my mind is filled with fogginess,
thoughts start to fade into rottenness,
no longer within my own skin.

I left me so I could survive,
muted and distorted,
reality and make-believe collide,
identities become contorted,
memories remain unsorted,
personalities I must contrive.

The world becomes bottomless,
no up or down,
just godlessness,
walking through a ghost town,
life is now preparing to shutdown,
parts of me are now autonomous.

There is no sense to be made of this,
autopilot is safer than being discarded,
why would it be better to reminisce,
instead let me be transported,
away from that place still haunted,
throw me into the abyss.

Dissociation has to exist,
without it we would not have been revived,
our pain and abuse dismissed,
leading so many to suicide,
washed away with the tide,
so some of us remain inside.


 

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Everyone is Watching – Art and Poetry By Charlotte Farhan

Everyone is Watching - By Charlotte Farhan
Everyone is Watching – By Charlotte Farhan

With this unseen malady,
the world is set to a different frequency,
faces move past with only apathy,
when they can’t fit you into a box,
intelligent, irrational, focused, erratic…
you seem a paradox.

Knowing people question me,
life feels scrutinised,
under the microscope,
wishing to be disguised,
not made to walk this tightrope.

Being able to be free,
not continuously analysed,
a participant, not an absentee,
hearing my voice,
without having to be patronised,
without having to prove my disabilities,
they love to give you the third degree,
have I not proved my invincibility?

We the stigmatised,
are not your problem to fix,
not here to be tamed and civilised,
neither will I be cured by your crucifix ,
“God only gives us what we can handle”
is this a joke – a chance to poke,
superstition and dogma we must dismantle,
instead with these ideas they provoke.

Everyone is watching me,
no longer left alone to recover,
my life is not something you can disagree,
they want to rip it away – uncover,
these things you can’t see,
no one would want this,
so with this plea,
stop watching me.


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