Kat's story
Because somewhere along the way,
life can lose it’s vibrance,
and become a grey haze
of struggle.
But at some point you’re ready.
Willing and able,
to reclaim your colourful life.
Re-find your joyful self!
You just need a bit of support.
And that’s where we come in…
I’m Kat
I’ve been there - my moment came with the traumatic birth of my first child.
I didn’t even recognise it as trauma at the time - all I knew was that I didn’t feel the way I ‘should’ feel as a new mother and no one seemed to understand why I struggled so much, least of all, me!
Add in a ‘difficult’ relationship, and I was on the path to extreme overwhelm, crippling anxiety, depression and suicidal thoughts. I wondered if I’d ever feel ‘normal’ again.
I didn’t know where to turn.
Eventually, I did what a lot of people do - I went to see my GP.
I was given a prescription for anti-depressants and a referral for 4 free counselling sessions with a counsellor allocated to me - a man. He was nice enough, but there were two big problems
A: I was never going to feel truly comfortable opening up to a man about the trauma that had led me to this point, and
B: Four sessions? Nowhere near going to be enough.
Because what if I opened Pandora's Box during those sessions and then couldn’t ever close it again once the allocated time was up?
I couldn’t even allow myself to cry, because I was afraid that if I started I would never stop, and the thin thread that was just holding me together and keeping me (sort of) functioning would break, and I’d never pick myself up again.
The only ‘support’ available to me was basically useless.
I couldn’t afford private therapy. So I struggled on. Constant anxiety prevented me from being the mum my boys needed.
The physiological symptoms that often result from trauma were never explained to me by my GP or the counsellor. So I tried to educate myself, to understand what I was feeling, why, and how I could ever begin to move forward.
Over several years I read numerous books on anxiety, shame, trauma and depression. My path to recovery was a gradual one.
I was eventually able to go back to my well-paid job which meant I could finally afford to pay for the therapy I needed.
It literally saved my life. The colour finally returned. The anxiety receded. The depression lifted.
I could start planning for the future again.
I could spend time with my boys again.
Once I had my mental health back I was able to reflect on how long and difficult the journey had been for me, even with my privilege.
How much harder was it for those without that privilege to access the support they needed to heal from trauma and abuse?
Why should the only option be a reliance on pharmaceuticals (which may or may not work and often come with their own debilitating side effects) and a bit of free counselling with someone you haven’t chosen?
Why should recovery only be available for people with plentiful resources, who can afford to pay for it?
How many good, well-meaning mums like me were unintentionally creating more intergenerational trauma? Passing their stress and trauma on to their babies and children because they couldn’t access the support they themselves needed?
These questions pulled at me and I felt compelled to do something about it.
The result is Moving On.
So glad you’re here. ❤