C.A. Ashitey's Blog, page 2

Music… a lifeline

What would your life be like without music?

There are so many different songs, each linked to periods of my life, whether good, bad, happy, sad, celebratory, or tragic, that each carries a memory thread that has been crucial to my life.

Although some music stirs yearnings for yesteryear, I’d be lost without them because there’s always that one piece per day that lifts my mood and carries me into song, and for that, I’ll always be grateful xCx

A lesson learned…

Share a lesson you wish you had learned earlier in life.

Actually, there are several:

It doesn’t matter what others think!

You don’t need other people to make you happy!

It is okay to not be okay!

It is okay to say no!

Do everything you want in life, even if at the time it feels impossible.

Letting go of the past is necessary to find yourself.

Leader or follower?

Do you see yourself as a leader?

Good question…

I think that my stance on this has changed dramatically over time.

As someone who craves control over situations I find myself in, believed to be deeply rooted in my life experiences, it could be said I need to lead to maintain that control.

However, my lack of confidence and constant desire for approval means that I tend to sit as an onlooker, only contributing if I am certain of my input.

During my time in the teaching profession, I certainly led assemblies, meetings, subjects, and training, but as I’ve gotten older, do not fully understand how I did those things.

Today, I would say I am a follower because only when I am assured that there is no judgement do I step into the light.

The words I would give up…

If you had to give up one word that you use regularly, what would it be?

There are two:  SORRY! and YES!

These are words I use far too often, in circumstances where I am apologising for being ME and agreeing to things I don’t want in order to make someone else happy!

Therapy is teaching me to unpick my life and find more self-compassion. 

Someone once asked me if I ever said no, and I am realising how detrimental this has been in my life.  It’s time to be a little selfish and do things for me before it’s too late!

Walking & me

How often do you walk or run?

As someone with limited mobility due to chronic osteoarthritis affecting my joints and spine, walking is a challenge.

However, I now do my best to overcome the pain and walk daily.

I do this because I find the solitude of nature and the embrace of the elements satisfying to my soul and mental health.

I also do this because I want to try to maintain what little mobility I have left for as long as I can, and although I use aids and walk slowly, I am determined not to be beaten by this disease.

Spotlight with Author Sarah Colliver ❤️

https://www.facebook.com/share/r/19JW3VYBXk/

[image error][image error][image error][image error][image error][image error][image error][image error][image error][image error][image error][image error]

Red Flags

What personality trait in people raises a red flag with you?

For me, there are several personality traits that raise red flags, and the majority are linked to negative experiences.

The first is anger.  Any time I am faced with a situation that is escalating to a point where anger is anticipated, I withdraw for fear of being hurt, physically, mentally, and emotionally. This results from childhood trauma and domestic violence/abuse.

The second is narcissism. I am acutely aware that narcissism can fuel rage, gaslighting, and loss of control. Due to experiences of all three, I am quick to recognise it in others. This is how I stay safe and protect myself.

The third is ambition. This is a powerful motivator that can blind people to empathy, recognition, and support for others.  Experiences have taught me that this trait can blind a person to the needs of others, resulting in people treading on others in their pursuit of the top.

The fourth is greed. The need for success, fund fluidity, and financial recognition can be all consuming, driving people to do unspeakable things to vulnerable people in order to achieve their goals. Those who scam or intentionally try to use vulnerable people for their own gain sicken me to my core and are destroying my faith in others.  Nowhere is this more rife at present than in the Indie Author arena, where constant emails bombard your Inbox daily trying to use your work as a springboard to fortune.

WELLNESS RETREAT

Wellness Retreat 09.04.2025 (19:30) – Visit for additional supportive information

My mind it is so loud!
Another dawn, another day,
Each just like the last.
Looking back on yesteryear,
Yearning for the past!
Bound within this life of mine,
Tethered feet and hands,
Stuck in a perpetual wheel,
With nothing joyful planned.
I do not know what brings me joy,
I’ve been trapped for so long.
An outcast from an alien world –
So desperate to belong!

© Carol Ashitey 03 April 2025

I didn’t really know what to expect when I pulled up in the carpark early.  I sat in my car for the best part of an hour, thumbing through my poetry notebooks, trying to find the ones that best harnessed my thoughts, feelings, and emotions. 

I found myself feeling conspicuous when a member of staff noticed me and asked if I needed help and hurriedly stated that I was alright, even though they advised that I could go inside because the counsellor was there and expecting me. 

Shortly afterwards, the counsellor himself came out to the car and invited me into the building to begin my session early, which I did, seating myself in the corner on the farthest side of the room with my back to the wall.

The space was large and intimidating.  The person before me seemed welcoming, but I found it difficult to know where to begin.  It quickly became apparent that this was not what I’d thought it would be. 

I had pictured in my head – much to my relief – somewhere I could go, stay, be quiet and alone if needed, but it was clear that I’d misinterpreted the word ‘retreat’!  The reality was that it was another person to listen to me offload and signpost me to suitable supportive outreach that might help.

Eventually, I began to discuss my current situation and the fact that as I approach the age of sixty, my life still does not feel like my own to live! 

I answered honestly all the questions relating to my childhood, my upbringing including affection from meaningful adults in my life and punishments or verbal reprimands throughout my life. 

I discussed the domestic violence suffered at the hands of my first husband, the breakdown of my marriages and subsequent divorces, the highs and lows experienced with my BPD and the cycle of spend-crash-debt-repeat that followed me through my life. 

I talked about my relationship and difficulty with food that led to an eating disorder that I’d been told was linked to my need to be in control. 

I discussed my suicidal thoughts, social anxiety, avoidance, and agoraphobic behaviour that isolated me from any desire to engage with friends and family. 

In addition, I mentioned my physical health and the impact that constant daily pain has on my quality of life and the will to go on alongside my constant and overwhelming desire to be sectioned (put somewhere safe, away from everything and everyone) for some isolation and peace.

I shared a poem that I’d written in 2024 that I felt encapsulated my life in a nutshell:

Once upon a time, there was a quiet, little girl,
Whose freckled skin descended from a hair that liked to curl.

Initially, an only child – the apple of Dad’s eye,
The polite little daughter who had no need to cry.

Soon to be a sibling, her life about to change,
She soon found her emotions dancing in a different range.

Where once was joy and safety, now stood envy and despair;
She realised, that bit too late, she didn’t want to share.

Her life had changed forever. It was out of her control,
There was no way to reverse time. There is no way to make her whole.

Her life it took a tangent, and went down a different lane,
From that day on, she realised she was trapped inside life’s game.

From primary to secondary, she searched to find true friends,
Those who didn’t torment her, who’d be there ‘til the end.

Her jealousy consumed her, and it fostered deep inside,
She realised immediately that it could not be bound or tied.

No matter how she struggled, the dragon would not hide,
It reared its head, revealing its green-eyed monster side.

The things she found that she could do, when Jekyll turned to Hyde,
With no restraint, no recourse, the options opened wide.

Her friend inside her head would say – ‘In order to fit in –
You need to behave a certain way if you desire to win!’

The voice convinced its captive that isolation was the way,
To avoid family gatherings, to hide herself away.

Adolescent struggles were too painful to recount,
No wonder trauma followed her in copious amounts.

Throughout her life she’d reinvent the girl the others saw,
Enslaved to hide behind her masks, a servant to it all.

From babe to child, from child to teen, her life it hurtled by,
By the time she started working, she had learned not to ask why.

She stumbled into marriage, for fear the spinster’s life,
Her marriage soon betrayed her dreams – she became a battered wife.

Believing in the words she heard, she trusted, but in vain,
For soon, the outlook starts to fade as she’s battered once again.

She ventures into motherhood to find some other way,
To bring some joy and happiness in her life from day to day.

Her cycle of depression still quietly unwinds,
Engulfing every corner of her once creative mind.

Yet still, she fights and struggles on, to swim and not to sink,
But late at night, when lights go out, her mind just churns and thinks.

Retraining as a teacher, she tries again to shine,
To be the one who excels to the front of the popular line.

She finds a niche to hide in, she gains the love she seeks,
From the radiant little children who lay scattered at her feet.

But the facade isn’t tough enough, and year on year, it cracks,
She realises, all too late, that the darkness has come back.

She tries to run, she tries to hide, but there’s nowhere at all,
That can save her from the open pit into which she’s about to fall.

Her confidence disintegrates, she’s no longer out on top,
Despite her cries for mercy, the dark torture fails to stop.

Her marriage lies in tatters, her job it hits the wall,
The sad victim of circumstance, the casualty of it all.

Desperate to be whole once more, she endeavours to rebuild her life,
And goes halfway around the world in search of freedom from her strife.

She meets a handsome stranger, who knows what words to say,
To make her fall head over heels, to carry her away.

She’s blinded by her need for love. She pours her whole self in,
And by the time it falls apart, her life’s consumed by him.

A second marriage on the rocks, her heart broken in two,
A pain like nothing felt before is so quick to ensue.

Her chest is being crushed as if under a mammoth stone,
What had she done that warranted a life ahead – alone!

The darkness overwhelmed her, she’s lost the will to live,
Emotions left her heart and soul; she’d nothing left to give.

Destroyed of mind and body, devoid of love to share,
She saw her interests die that day; no longer did she care.

The world around her crumbled, each song a dagger’s blade,
She knew right then that future life would slumber in the shade.

She tried to push on with her life, she tried to let folks in,
But ultimately this time, she was not destined to win.

As she wrestled with her memory board, to find a happy meme,
She found a pile of chaos in a sea of scattered dreams.

© Carol Ashitey 2024

I couldn’t control the emotion that swept over me whilst reading the poem and cried throughout.  He seemed to welcome the insight into my thoughts and mind, my perceptions of myself and others and the feelings that went along with them that were exposed throughout the poem. 

He also made some observations based on his assessment of me during the time I’d been in the room. 

He picked up on the fact that I’d chosen to sit in an area farthest from the door with the wall to my back – a choice usually observed in people who feel threat and the need for hypervigilance such as those suffering from post-traumatic stress. 

He noticed that despite talking to him, I rarely made eye contact with him – a classic autistic trait. 

He then proceeded to outline the overlap between Borderline Personality Disorder, Autism and Complex PTSD, referring to my childhood experiences as a possible cause of my debilitating mental health. 

He recommended a book by Pete Walker called: Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving and recommended I read it to see if I can identify any correlation with the material and my own experiences.

At the end of the session – which lasted just shy of 90 minutes – I found myself agreeing to reach out for support if I felt the need to act on any harmful impulses and to keep myself safe!

By the time I got home, I’d resigned myself to ordering the book for next-day delivery and to giving it a try to see if I could recognise myself and my mental health patterns, causes and behaviours within its pages.

Therapy Session 1

Session 1: 20.03.2025
This initial session was fraught with emotion, despite the comforting and non-judgemental approach and environment, I found myself constantly super-emotional and in tears, but I laid the foundations of my path to healing by sharing some of my deepest thoughts and beliefs. 

I talked about life choices that I’d made and why I thought I’d made them, including running away (moving to Wales) and the fact I wanted to feel FREE, to be where nobody knows me and to be able to do what I want to do – even if that meant sleeping all day. I talked about relationship breakdowns and the difficulties maintaining relationships due to my desire to self-sabotage and maintain control. 

I talked about my friends (that I stated were only two in number) and family members, and some of the experiences that these had exposed me to that I felt had a negative effect on my life. 

I talked about the fact that I had written two children’s novels but that, although I wanted my books to become well-known, well-read and popular, I was afraid of exposure, and the reality publicity could bring. 

I talked about my use of poetry and creative writing as a ‘vent’ and a way of releasing my dark thoughts onto the page and agreed to bring examples of these to my next session. 

I discussed my difficulties with socialisation, including my agoraphobic tendencies to isolate inside the home and avoid going out but also the antithesis of this, where once I managed to get out, not wanting to return.

I talked about the fact that my mood swings were vast and that at their highest, I was impulsive, irrational and downright dangerous but at their lowest – when I was in that downward spiral, circling the drain – the dark thoughts overwhelmed to the point I considered whether life was worth living at all! 

I talked about the fact that I have a stockpile of medication – always at the ready – so I knew that I could act on impulse if I wanted to and the fact that my last overdose attempt had left me feeling despair and an overwhelming sense of guilt that haunted me because of the aftermath.

I mentioned that every day was a struggle because I viewed every day as a repeat of the same, not something new to be treasured, and what these low moods felt like and looked like in my world – oppressive, threatening, overwhelming, dark, all-consuming, physical entities that pursued me with a desire to cause harm and devour.

Most importantly, I revealed something about myself that I had never acknowledged publicly before – that I had a mask for every occasion, a myriad of personas that I portrayed to the world, that I didn’t know when these had become a THING, and that as a result I’d lost myself and didn’t know who CAROL was!  I’d learned to be what people needed me to be and not myself.  I’d moulded myself to fit into every situation, donning a mask to present to the world something or someone that I thought would be liked, needed, accepted, and welcomed. 

To that end, I didn’t know if the child, the daughter, the mother, the granddaughter, the author, the teacher, the friend, the lover, the wife or even the adult was truly me because I didn’t know which persona was my own.

I had a tremendous fear of telling others about my life, my thoughts, and feelings because they’d judge me as insane.  I felt ungrateful to those who supported me, frustrated with current living arrangements, where although I had the constant support and presence of loved ones, I felt no peace, freedom, or respite.  I felt there were overwhelming, suffocating expectations placed upon me, and this led me to feel used rather than appreciated. 

I felt empty, hollow to the core. There was no joy, no freedom, and no life – even though I countlessly thought of ending it all!

There were financial constraints that meant the reality of realising my dreams was constricted and suffocated and health constraints due to medical conditions that had worsened with age, limiting my ability to complete even menial tasks because pain and mobility issues dictated my every step.

The desire to run, cease to exist, feel at rest surrounded by nothingness and quiet was overwhelming me daily.

Clearly, there was a lot impacting my life, my feelings, my emotions, my thoughts and wellbeing, and the paramount factor at this session, after my deluge of insight was to keep me safe.

My therapist, who, I learned later was giving her time in a voluntary capacity at MHM Wales, was concerned about my ability to keep myself safe and gave me a wealth of contact information and resources to support me through the coming week, one of which was signposting me to the Wellness Retreat – a one-off session where I could discuss further the nature of my illness in an effort to gain additional support networks and resources that might just keep me alive and provide some comfort. 

I also received a timetable of events across the valley and beyond that offered free art sessions, engagement, and wellbeing hub activities that I could consider.

After the session – despite the anguish and emotion felt during the hour-long period, I felt drained, exhausted, and empty.

I did, however, share my thoughts in a poem:

Releasing haunting memories from past to present day
Desperately seeking healing, some solace on the way
Never a quiet moment in this life of mine
With constant turmoil in my head, voices in my mind
Searching for the silence to engulf me – set me free
To stop my mind from spinning – to stop all life in me!

© Carol Ashitey – 20 March 2025

I think what struck me most about this session was the speed at which the hour passed. 

In previous counselling and therapy sessions, the time had dragged, and getting information out of me was akin to pulling teeth.  I had never talked for an hour constantly, without cessation and without feeling like I was being probed.  I had never felt so at ease in the surroundings, so able to engage, so willing to open myself up to scrutiny or to allow the therapist into my world. 

I don’t know why this therapist was different or what about her made me want to bare my soul, but whatever it was, I had taken the first step and planned to return.

Therapy & ME!

For years I have struggled with my mental health.  It first started at the age of fourteen, when I was experiencing a traumatic experience at the hands of my peers in secondary school. 

Little did I realise that the impact of these events coupled with early childhood trauma would affect me for the rest of my life. 

As a child growing up in an age where chastisement, belittling comments, character assassination and physical punishment were the norm, my self-belief was heavily influenced by the things that were said and done to me in the home and society. 

As I struggled with my identity, the need to be seen, heard and accepted, I found that I would bend to the rules of others, seek acceptance and love through sometimes dangerous and illegal means and people-please to find the emotional relief I needed.

Throughout my life, I have been exposed to multiple derogatory experiences that left me feeling ashamed of myself.  Resorting to drastic measures to gain recognition, friendships, romance, sustenance, parental-love, acceptance and a sense of belonging led me to begin smoking, shoplift, engage in risky promiscuous behaviours and lose the very essence of ME!

I have throughout my life attended many sessions designed to help me understand my mental and physical pain and suffering including Talk Therapy, CBT, DBT, Pain Management, to name but a few.

Throughout my many sessions with therapists, counsellors, groups and psychiatrists, I have laid myself bare, each time allowing the listener to reach parts of me that I have kept hidden to protect myself but never truly reaching the core issues that made me the way I am – UNTIL NOW!

This blog is designed to be an avenue for release for me, but I also hope that it may serve to support others that have similar experiences and struggle with their mental health.

I have suffered from depression all my life.  I have attempted suicide twice, reached out to organisations such as the Primary Mental Health Service, Samaritans, private counsellors and psychiatry services. 

My battle with mental health has followed me since my teenage years, becoming more debilitating throughout pregnancy and postnatal.  I have been medicated constantly and subject to a regime of changing dosages in the pursuit of relief and still am to this day! 

The dark thoughts that rage in my mind day and night, haunting my dreams, disturbing my sleep, depriving me of stable relationships and social engagement are overwhelming, keeping me in constant liaison with medical professionals in the hope of ending the cycle that has become my life. 

I have lost jobs, homes, friends and loved ones because of the dark passenger that accompanies everywhere I go. 

I have experienced social anxiety, terror, suicidal and self-deprecating thoughts, physical pain, loneliness, agoraphobia, financial stressors and bankruptcy due to my constant desire to find some gratification that makes me feel better. 

I have experienced multiple nervous breakdowns, engaged in binging and purging and pushed people out of my life to avoid being mentally and physically hurt by them. 

The waves of the illness act like a rollercoaster that takes me from the abyss – the darkest, lowest points – to mania – where spending money I do not have has cost me dearly. 

My reactions to situations fill me with dread and often result in the overwhelming desire to run away, to leave everything and everyone I care about in search of a new start – a place where I can begin again, where nobody knows me. 

I have learned to distrust, doubt and question, truly believing that nobody can love me because I am not only ugly, fat, evil and a parasite but also that I am not worthy to live!
In 2020, I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, finally labelling the beast that I carried on my back for years.  Giving it a name made it even more real but also enabled me to realise that I am not alone in my suffering. 

In 2021, following the death of a person very dear to me, I made the decision to leave my city of birth and move to Wales. 

I did this for many reasons, to follow my daughters who I desperately looked to for support, to escape the bounds of family responsibility, to make a fresh start in the hope of changing not just the landscape but the life to which I had become accustomed and accepted as my reality but also to leave the past behind. 

In doing so, I abandoned the only friends that I truly had and didn’t even tell them I was going until I’d gone, leaving a barrage of pain, hurt and trauma in my wake!

In terms of the physical advantages of the move, I can honestly say that waking up to a vista of countryside, mountains, wildlife and forestry instead of the concrete jungle to which I had become slave is amazing. 

This change in scenery has lifted the veil of despair enough to allow me to make some life-changing decisions. 

None of these decisions have been easy and there is a long road ahead, but I now have one foot on the pathway and that is progress.

Since moving to the Garw Valley in Wales, I have encountered Mental Health Matters – Wales (MHM Wales Limited), an organisation that is dependent on financial contributions but that are making a real difference in the lives of people like me. 

As a result of conversations with my new GP, I gained a referral to their service and access to a support network that is truly helping me understand the nature of my difficulties but more importantly, the causes and triggers that ensnare me daily.

What follows is an insight into the things that I have discovered, experienced and explored in my pursuit of finding the REAL ME!  The past trauma that has shaped me and the resources and tools that I am learning along the way.

Having been exposed to various therapies and interventions throughout my difficult mental health journey, I was sceptical initially but soon found that the approach was different.