Amy Cole Has Lost Her Mind by Elizabeth McGivern #suicide #miscarriage #inspirational #books .@MayhemBeyond .@rararesources

Amy Cole Has Lost Her Mind 

by

Elizabeth McGivern

Amy Cole is a stay-at-home mum and a woman on the edge.

After a very public breakdown and failed suicide attempt, Amy finds herself trying to make it through her everyday life as a high-functioning zombie. 

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Elle De Bruyn is a force of nature ready to shake Amy back to life whether she likes it or not.

After a fortuitous meeting, the two embark on a journey together which will change them both and help them find out exactly what they’re capable of when rock bottom is just the beginning.

Excerpt 

This extract is a flashback to the events which start the book in motion. Amy suffers a miscarriage and the fall-out of it causes ramifications for her and her family from the hospital right through to the present day:

  I woke up bleeding on 10th December. I threw myself out of the bed and ran into the bathroom. Even before I saw the blood I knew what was happening.

  What is it about being pregnant that makes you think that love and sheer stubborn will can protect your child?

  I gripped onto my stomach, feeling the start of the piercing pain ripping in my womb. I sat on the floor with hundreds of thoughts going through my mind.

  Some relevant, others not.

  Ben was in England on business and the boys were still asleep. My eyes were burning and I ached to cry but I couldn't give into tears, not just yet. I decided that I could save this baby. I knew if I just got to a doctor then I could save my little girl.

  I packed up my children, who were still fast asleep, and left them with the child-minder. To this day I don't know how I kept it together that entire day. All I knew was that if I let one tear fall, it was as good as admitting defeat and I didn't know how to do that. My daughter needed me.

  After a very terse conversation with a GP receptionist, I was told to go to the hospital.

  By the time I got to the emergency department's reception I was shaking so badly I thought I was going to faint then and there.

  They must have noticed the panic on my face as I was seen by a doctor quite quickly. I answered the obligatory questions and blood was taken for testing. I was asked to sit back in reception and I would be called soon.

  The wait was agony and every time I went to the bathroom to clean more blood away I was getting more and more agitated. I didn't understand why no one was grasping how urgent this was.

 

I spent the next eight hours sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair waiting for someone to give me words of comfort and tell me that the bleeding was normal.

  I watched countless people come in and out. I imagined their stories and gave them names and tragic backstories - that way I could comfort myself knowing that by the time I was seen by a doctor and told everything was fine, I would go home feeling lucky. I was certain that the doctor would give me some sort of tablet or injection to stop the bleeding and I would go home to take it easy.

  I decided that I would take months off work and sit on my ever-expanding arse until my daughter was ready to make her appearance.

  I knew it was a girl. A mother knows these things – one of the many bullshit things I convinced myself of during those eight hours of waiting.

  Eventually, I was told they had lost the blood samples but they had finally located them around 9pm.

  After the briefest of examinations, I was informed that my baby was gone. They told me to go home and let "nature do its work".

  I was offered no words of comfort or an explanation, something I so desperately needed.

  Still, I did not cry.

  I picked up the kids, on autopilot, and returned home to a quiet house. They had fallen asleep in the back of the car and I was tempted to wake them up just to have some distraction or company. My phone had died hours ago and, no doubt, Ben would be anxious to hear from me, but I couldn't find the words to say it out loud.

 

As far as I was concerned, I had failed. I had lost our baby.

  I hated that phrase.

  I hadn't ‘lost' anything. My body had let me down.

  The body that I had finally grown to love after years of shallow self-loathing had become my enemy once again.

  It had killed my daughter.

  The numbness carried on for weeks. My family thought I was just being stoic and getting on with things – while those around me offered gems like:

  "Sure, it was early days anyway so it wasn't that bad."

  This was a direct quote from an ill-informed, but well-meaning aunt.

I had an easy to remember go-to response for when I was asked how I was feeling; I simply shrugged and said:

  "These things happen."

  People seemed satisfied with this, but to be honest I had no idea what that even meant in a situation like this. I knew they were all waiting for me to cry, but still, no tears came.

  I tried a few times but it was as if every attempt to find my heart again was futile. I was a high functioning zombie.

  Six weeks later I started to hear her; the hideous version of myself that rejoiced in my failure. I hated her, but unfortunately, by this stage, I was in no shape to defend myself against her onslaught of visceral abuse. It didn't take her long to gain more and more ground and soon I was lying awake night after night, listening to a new list of insults.

  It was around 3am on a Wednesday that she first planted the seed.

  If you go to the lake, all this will stop. I promise. Your family will be so much happier without you. Deep down, you know that's the truth.

  After weeks of feeling shame and continuous mental and physical pain, I felt like I had an answer on how to make it all go away.

  I wasn't scared or feeling guilty about who I was leaving behind. I believed her when she told me they were better off without me.

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Picture credited to

Jess Lowe 

Elizabeth McGivern is a former journalist turned hostage-in-her-own-home surrounded by three men and a horrible dog named Dougal. 

In an effort to keep her sanity she decided to write a parenting blog after the birth of her first son so she can pinpoint the exact moment she failed as a mother. 

In an unexpected turn of events, the blog helped her to find a voice and connect with parents in similar situations; namely those who were struggling with mental health issues and parenting. It was because of this encouragement – and wanting to avoid her children as much as possible – her debut novel, Amy Cole has lost her mind, was born. 

Elizabeth lives in Northern Ireland although wishes she could relocate to Iceland on a daily basis. To witness her regular failings as a parent you can find her on: 

www.mayhemandbeyond.com 

When your world shatters, how do you put it back together? @rararesources @JuneAConverse #mentalhealth #coverreaveal

Decide to Hope

An unimaginable trauma. A future that seems impossible.

When your world shatters, how do you put it back together?

For 950 days, Kathleen Conners has struggled with that choice. Behind a scarf and sunglasses, she hides from the world, from herself, from The Event, from any future with anyone.

After receiving a box of letters from his deceased mother, Matt Nelson is shoved from his predictable, controlled life to a secluded beach in North Carolina. While trying to understand his mother's intent, he discovers Kathleen.

Matt must choose whether to follow the path his mother orchestrated or rescue the woman who has captured his heart. When the only person Kathleen blames more than herself reappears, can Matt be the strength Kathleen needs to create a new life, or will he be forced to walk away if she decides the climb is too great?

Cover Reveal

…drum roll...

Pre-order your copy!

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~~~

Author, June Converse, happily resides in Sandy Springs, Georgia, with her husband, Dave, and their dog, Sodapop.  They have two wonderful adult children and two grandchildren.  She is an enthusiastic exerciser and an accomplished cook.  She and her husband enjoy hiking with Sodapop, traveling, scuba diving, trying new restaurants, concerts, and whatever other adventures they can find.  Reading and a constant desire to learn keeps her busy too. 

A trauma survivor who struggles with mental illness, June is continuously reaching for hope like the characters in her books.  She openly discusses her personal struggles on her blog, JuneConverse.com

Decide to Hope is her first novel and relies a great deal on her own experience with trauma, choices, recovery and hope.  If you’d like to discuss trauma, coping and recovery, contact her at JuneConverse.com or DecideToHope.com

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When fictional characters move from books to the REAL WORLD: mental health covered sensitively in The Second Cup by .@SarahMarieGraye #mentalhealth #Psychological #Literary #Fiction #depression .@rararesources

…from the mind of a fictional character

by

Beth

(a character from Sarah Marie Graye's

 The Second Cup

Beth: Picking up the pieces

I graduated almost 15 years ago and have worked ever since. Yet somehow I find myself sleeping on Olivia's sofa and living on £70 a week. The Local Housing Allowance for Manchester is just £440 – not enough to cover the rent on my flat, so I handed my notice in. Then I discovered the council wouldn’t help rehouse me because I’d made myself ‘intentionally’ homeless. 

I’m hoping to top up my £70 Employment & Support Allowance with a Personal Independence Payment. I’ve spent days filling in forms. I’ve been told it’s difficult to get PIP, but to apply anyway as over 60% of rejected claims are approved at appeal. What a shame they don’t grant the benefit first time round and spend the money wasted on appeals on mental health services – to speed up access to services.

When I came out of hospital, I didn’t see anyone for six weeks. I didn’t know I should go and see my GP – nobody told me. And I’m not really in the right place mentally to make decisions. 

When I saw the psychiatrist she admitted I’d only seen her so ‘quickly’ because my notes referred to an overdose. Without that magic word, the wait is four months. I’ve since been discharged by the psychiatrist and referred back to my GP. I’m now on a waiting list for psychotherapy and counselling. The wait can be up to two years.

How am I meant to pick up the pieces of my life with so little support? 

 How do people without friends like Olivia and Abbie cope?

  Introducing...

 The Second Cup

Would your life unravel if someone you knew committed suicide?

Theirs did.

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Faye's heart still belongs to her first love, Jack. She knows he might have moved on, but when she decides to track him down, nothing prepares her for the news that he's taken his own life.

With the fragility of life staring them in the face, Abbie finds herself questioning her marriage, and Faye her friendship with Ethan. And poor Olivia is questioning everything - including why Jack's death has hit Beth the hardest. Is she about to take her own life too?

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Sarah Marie Graye was born in Manchester, United Kingdom, in 1975, to English Catholic parents. One of five daughters, to the outside world Sarah Marie's childhood followed a relatively typical Manchester upbringing... until aged 9, when she was diagnosed with depression.

It's a diagnosis that has stayed with Sarah Marie over three decades, and something she believes has coloured every life decision.

Now in her early 40s, and with an MA Creative Writing from London South Bank University (where she was the vice-chancellor's scholarship holder), Sarah Marie has published her debut novel - about family, friendships and mental health.

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WWBB hopes you enjoyed the theme 'from the mind of a fictional character'.

If you have an idea/theme that you'd like to write about and promote your book, please get in touch. I'm open to all ideas. - Louise 

For anyone who has suffered with #depression or #anxiety and received antidepresants, read this book! #nonfiction

Antidepressants are handed out like sweeties. Doctors are hurriedly writing prescriptions for patients to get them out of the waiting room without listening to the patients' needs--but on the other side of the coin patients are begging the doctor for a 'quick fix'.

There is no quick fix for depression, anxiety and other mental illnesses -- yup, said the M-word so rather than hurry to the GP for pills and potions, hurry to the GP for guidance on OTHER non-pill ways to get better.

Oh, and read this inspirational book! It could become your best friend.

Devil's Candy

by

Sam Garton

(SSRI) antidepressants medications have become the drug of choice for many across the world who suffer from such illnesses as depression and anxiety.

Science is finding that a growing number of people cannot properly metabolize these drugs.

That's when disaster strikes!

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Follow Sam Garton, just your average joe and content college student, through his presumptuous diagnosis of clinical depression, a prescription of the (SSRI) antidepressant drug, Prozac, and the behavior changes with evil thought processes that evolved into a sudden tragic/toxic event.

He welcomes you to journey with him from tragedy to recovery.

'Having survived the most vile and aggressive thoughts from within I offer tips and advice for people that may be suffering from the same effects of (SSRI) antidepressants.'

This book will give you the self-help guidance you need to overcome depression, anxiety, feelings of losing control and more.

Devil's Candy is a true story of survival from a prescription drug.

Depression can hit any one of us. Even celebrities.

by 

Valerie Anthrope

JK Rowling, Jim Carrey, Hugh Laurie are just a few stars who have suffered with depression. It can hit us unexpectedly or develop over time.

Mine developed over time. Crept over me like a fungus.

Valerie Anthrope

I’d always known my mother was ‘different’. Highly strung, neurotic and impulsive are the few words I learned from a young age. I think I was more like my dad: quiet, shy and preferring books to going out; Mum was always dragging Dad somewhere.

She had fads. Obesity in children had reached the headlines in the early 90s, and she was determined I wasn’t going to become one of them and put me on the Rosemary Conley’s Hip and Thigh Diet.

I was five years old.

A normal, healthy little girl who weighed barely fifty pounds (3.5 stone). She bought exercise videos and insisted I did them with her. If I didn’t work hard enough she’d cry.

If it wasn’t for Dad’s stabilising influence I’m sure I’d have issues with my weight today. Though some would say I did have a poor body image. I wore dark colours, and high-necked blouses, and tons and tons of makeup. When I was dressed in my uniform of black and thick makeup I ceased to be the vulnerable and hurting Valerie, and instead I became a cutthroat business woman.

I can remember exactly the day my life went wrong: August 17^th 1994. It was Wednesday, and half-way through the school summer holidays. I had a new baby brother, and Mum had transferred her irrational behaviour onto him, so for a few short, sweet months I was free.

Dad persuaded her that we all go to the funfair that was travelling the region that fatal day. Telling her, I deserved a treat.

It became a nightmare.

Sean, my brother, was normally a good baby, but he wouldn’t stop crying. Mum was fussing, but Dad chose that day not to pander to her. During their row and Sean’s crying, I became separated from them.

I was eight years old and terrified. The funfair was crowded and noisy, and no one noticed my plight—except for an old lady who beckoned me over. I followed her up a few steps into a caravan.

A fortune teller’s caravan.

My mind is slightly blank after that. I’m having counselling now. I can remember her telling me I was cursed, and that the curse would follow me until everyone I loved would die.

I don’t remember Dad finding me, all I know was that I was taken home and Mum, as ever, was fussing was over Sean. I was completely ignored, not because she was angry with me but because Sean was taking all of her attention. I think Dad was determined that her obsessions wouldn’t affect Sean’s childhood like it had mine. Boy, did he choose the wrong day to put his foot down! They argued. Sean cried, and I stewed alone in my room.

Then, that night, Sean died.