CONTENT (TRIGGER) WARNING: SA

Are mental health issues getting worse, or are we just talking about them more? Even if they are getting worse, I am so happy that we are normalising them and being so open with talking about the issues we manage daily. It is extremely tough to have these conversations, especially in a public forum, where people you don’t know are reading your life story. As you will read, Bella is very open and honest about the issues she manages every day and I am very grateful that she felt safe enough to let me share her story on my platform. Speaking up is the way we battle the stigma from these conditions. However, we still must support, care, and listen when people share. Bella is a strong woman who battles invisible conditions daily. Whilst she manages them constantly, there is so much more to her as well. She lives her life fully, enjoys food, baking, eating, family time, music, etc. I hope that by sharing her story, it helps at least one person out there dealing with something similar. Take a seat, join us at The Allergy Table, and listen to Bella’s story. 

Bella’s Story

The most important advice I could give from my experience with mental health issues is to speak up and speak out. Just try it with one person that you are comfortable with, and see what happens, you might be surprised at what you find. 

My story starts at two years old when I was diagnosed with anaphylaxis to tree nuts and peanuts. My Dad gave me a small piece of a cashew nut, and I was violently ill 5 minutes later, across the dining table (my sister was opposite me…) and I broke out in hives which covered my body. The pain was unbearable, I was screaming and scratching so much so my parents had to pin my hands and legs down to stop me from scratching myself bloody. I was so little and extremely confused as to what was happening. You might know what that feels like; most people with allergies can understand those moments, you’re probably nodding your head whilst reading this. Food allergies are invisible until, suddenly, they are not; much like anxiety and depression - which I also manage daily. Three invisible conditions until they are very much visible - and by that time it feels too late. 

I’ve experienced anxiety, probably all my life but, I was only formally diagnosed with General Anxiety Disorder (GAD) in March 2020 at 24 years old. Before I was diagnosed, I had always assumed I was just ‘nervous’ all the time, and it was easier to ignore because I didn’t have a name for it.  As I look back, I see the root of my anxiety was my allergies - a real concern with having to avoid food groups or restrict eating is that it can lead to eating disorders and/or ‘fussy’ eating.  I definitely had a few issues with food and was very particular about what I did and didn’t like. A struggle for me was trying new foods, I was frightened I would be ill, or so much worse. Talking to more people in the food allergy community, this is a common feeling and it is very difficult to put our trust in others.  Before University, the only people I trusted to keep me safe were my parents. When I was growing up, I went to 'nice', ‘safe’ restaurants with my family, but I was too scared to order anything on the menu, I would end up asking for plain pasta instead. In a nutshell (pun intended), I have managed anxiety all my life but, I was only diagnosed when the doctor prescribed me with antidepressants. 

Just like allergies, anxiety has been a constant, however, depression, depression is new to me. It began when I was 18 years old, coming back from an Ed Sheeran concert, by myself on a train from London to Birmingham.  Did you know, 1 in 5 women in the UK will experience sexual assault in their lifetime, but this rises to 1 in 3 women when you look at it globally? My traumatic sexual assault was followed by insomnia, PTSD, and I became agoraphobic. That event in 2015 is a major reason for my mental health issues. I guess it was my body’s way of going into protective mode, but I very quickly settled into a deep depression. All my life I was a social butterfly, I never let my allergies or anxiety get in the way of me living life, I just had to manage them - but I turned into a complete recluse in the space of a day because of one night, one person who probably doesn’t even remember me. 

As time goes on, I’ve been able to reflect and realise that, although I was so full of hatred -mostly at myself, my body and mind back then, but they were only doing their best to protect me, and everything I felt was completely valid.  There is no “right” way to deal with something so painful, and every single human being manages it all so differently. Gradually, with the help of friends, family, and looming final uni exams, I began the road to recovery and healing.  I started to see more of myself, the self before that night. However, recovery is not a straight line. 

November 2017, my Grandmother (Dad’s mother) died very suddenly. It completely caught me off guard – she was one of those people who I just assumed was immortal. It never occurred to me that, one day, she could die! She was Jamaican, my true connection to that part of me, from her lilting Jamaican accent, her incredible cooking, joie de vivre (joy of living), and the way she’d say “heggs” instead of eggs. My grandmother longed to be home, in Jamaica. Unfortunately, that was not an option for her, and moving to England was a huge sacrifice, but she did it so her family could have the best future that they could have. My grandmother never pretended to be anything she wasn’t, you could take her away from the island, but you could never take the island out of her. She was the biggest connection to that part of my identity – while it seemed like everyone else was trying to fit in, she couldn’t have cared less if it meant losing who she really was. When she passed, a part of me died too, a part I have never got back. Since then, I have tried to throw myself into my Jamaican culture, whether that be through cooking (rice ‘n’ peas with ackee) or listening to Reggae when I’m trying to relax. Gradually, I began to realise that time heals all and, after some intense therapy, I began to find myself once more. Grief will always be there, along with the pain, but it becomes less of a stabbing pain and more of a dull ache. I will miss my grandmother every day of my life but, I have faith she’s watching over me always. My last moments with her, she shared how proud she was of the person I’d grown into -maybe she knew that she was going, but I will always remember that day.

Fast-forward to 2019, I’d finished university, came to London to start a new job, and moved in with my boyfriend. This job has been the most amazing experience I’ve ever had. I love every single day I’m working; my colleagues are genuine and hilarious. Life was looking up for me - that’s when it happens right, during the good times? 

January 2020, I was home alone one night watching Netflix, and I got triggered by a scene on a TV show that portrayed what had happened to me back in 2015. I stopped, stopped breathing, popcorn halfway to my mouth,  I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t believe it, after all this time, pushing my feelings aside. Years of saying I was fine, recovered even, but I was right back there, on that train in a matter of seconds.  The following weeks, were really rough; I had panic attacks and I spent a lot of time worrying about the small things, but they felt so important at the time, so real.

Anxiety comes with sudden mood changes, dreading getting out of bed every day. I longed for the weekends where I could just bury myself under the duvet and forget I existed, at least for those two days. What saved me was an intervention from my sister and my boyfriend, and I agreed to see a doctor.  I opened up again to the doctor about my past, shared it all with them, I surprised myself. I never had much luck in the past with the medical profession, I never thought that they understood me, I wasn’t being seen by the very people who should have been helping me. This time was different, my doctor was understanding and, for the first time,  I felt like someone was actually listening to me. I was given a sheet of useful helplines, information about Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT), and I was prescribed my first set of antidepressants. They gave me a diagnosis; when you have a diagnosis you stop believing it is all in your head. 

Labelling what was happening, helped me to compartmentalise in my own head. I had got through it once, and I could get through it again. It almost made it easier to confide in family and friends about what I’ve been going through. I am sure they knew, but saying it out loud is different, it’s healing and reduces the stigma around it. There are some I haven’t told yet; it doesn’t get easier the more people you tell. Being selective about who I tell helps me feel like I have some small semblance of normalcy. It helps to have a safe place to tell my story. I don’t want sympathy, seeing pity in people's faces or heavy sighs when I share my conditions. I have to work on this internally and keep moving on, one day at a time. I have to say that I have gotten a lot of positive responses from the people I have shared with, and I have such a strong support network to help me through anything.  It has been 3 months since I have gotten the help I need and I am honestly feeling so much better. Anxiety is a daily occurrence, but it's much more manageable now. I no longer want to stay in bed and forget the world. Instead, I try to seize every single day, especially whilst I am still feeling great! 

That brings us to March 2020, when I was furloughed for 6 weeks, but instead of that pushing me into my old coping mechanisms, I decided to use the time to completely throw myself into my Instagram page. ‘Table for Bella’, and it has been a saving grace. One of the main ways I relax when I’m feeling down is baking! Baking reduces my anxiety, as I have to completely focus on the task, so I don’t mess up the recipe. It also gives me back a sense of control. My anxiety is triggered by feeling out of control, so if when I am brought back into the present I start to feel better.  Plus, I end up with a delicious treat at the end which I know is safe for me, because I made it - a yummy bonus!  

Over the past few weeks, my page has grown, and I’ve met some incredible, like-minded allergy advocates, whom I know will stay in my life forever. What I love about the allergy community is, we all have an allergy which brings us together but, we are such different people with unique stories. Humans thrive from a community, and I just happened to have wound up in the best one.

Find your people, speak about your issues, and live your life beautifully! 

Bella

Instagram @tableforbella

Fundraiser - Black Lives Matter Go Fund Me

NHS - Sexual Assault help & Mental health help

ADAA USA - Anxiety and Depression

Please reach out to Bella and let her know what you think of her story. - Only positives vibes welcome. If you want to chat with her, she is very happy to.

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