#iamhope

When I tell people I had an Obsessive Compulsive Disorder from the age of 1, I know they find that hard to believe but almost every image of me from that age proves it. On top of that I didn't have an aesthetically pleasing face (which turned out to be helpful through my upbringing - but that's another story). I knew I wasn't pretty but one day at school, my world changed. On the day the middle image was taken 'Rebecca' came up to me and with genuine fascination and said "Jeez you're ugly Eleanor!!"
What I'd always suspected was confirmed and from that day I saw myself as an unlovable elephant woman so, inevitably, depression soon set in.
Mirrors fed the deep, dark, cloying depression, which quickly morphed into suicidal depression for over 30 years.
But here's the good news.
It took 10 years of hefty naval gazing but I got myself out of it.
Now I have butterflys of excitement every single day.
I wanted to share this story, that a few of you would have heard before, to say #Iamhope. I view mental health as no different from physical health or financial health or spiritual health and I've always been available to anyone who needs help with it. I've also overcome addictions, body dysmorphia and poverty so I know a thing or two about what you're battling with.
But here's the biggest lesson I learnt - after everything I ever went through, I never needed anyone to 'fix' me. All I ever needed was someone to talk to so I could hear myself say things out loud. That's all. To get the messy blackness that swirled endlessly around in my head, out.
And that's what I can offer you or anyone else you know who is suffering. I'm not scared of sadness or desperation or emotions.
I don't judge.
I listen.
And I admire.
Because, for anyone to speak about their struggles show's me they're ready for more for themselves...