George’s Story

As the founder of MyoMinds, a lot of people believe I have mental health figured out, that I have overcome my issues and now run MyoMinds to help others reach the same place. It’s true that I run MyoMinds to help people, particularly because I know how poor mental health feels, but it’s certainly not true that I have overcome mental health issues. Honestly, I don’t think it’s an achievable (or even admirable) goal, to reach the point where you don’t have ups and downs in your life.

Saying that, as I sit here typing, I am about 30 minutes post panic attack. I can feel the aching weight of my eyes from a sleepless night and I feel that ever so unsubtle pressure of anxiety on my chest.  Both trying to convince me they are solely bad, that nothing good could come from them. But one thing I have learnt from my lows is that they allow my highs to contribute to making other people’s lows easier. If not for our struggles, we would struggle. We would struggle to show compassion, struggle to empathise, and if there’s one thing this world needs, its compassion and empathy.

My childhood was spent on a zoo (yes you read that right). Both my parents worked there so I’d spend most of my time there feeding, cleaning or just eating ice creams in the zoo’s shop. Safe to say my childhood was different, not to mention the other contributing factor causing difficult living conditions. I won’t go into too much detail as I don’t want to make this too long but, long story short, my dad was an alcoholic. This meant that often my home environment was exhausting, as I wrestled with the usual adolescent issues alongside these extra worries and responsibilities. My mum did an amazing job at keeping it away from me but there’s only so much one person can take and sometimes I had to do my bit, and this took its toll. (Before I move on, I’d like to mention that my parents are still together, my dad is now several years sober and both my parents spend every single day of their lives helping people in our community and all over the world affected by addiction issues and more.)

Due to my exhaustion, I never really engaged in real conversation or social activities with others. It all seemed like another uncertainty in my chaotic life and it was much easier to just do what I can to get by. So instead I became a people pleaser, I did whatever was necessary to get through every conversation with as little friction as possible. This worked for those purposes but left me without passions and without a sense of who I was, making me an easy target for teasing at school. Which only further reduced my self-esteem from its already low position.

I was around 10 years old when I first started playing rugby and it quickly became my life. Rugby made people like me, it gave me something to be passionate about and something I could define myself in. I rode that wave for 3 years, hiding my difficult home life with people pleasing and a passion for chasing eggs. As most of you will know, rugby is a dangerous game. My dad had previously been forced out of rugby due to a brain haemorrhage and I followed the family tradition by breaking my spine. This led to approximal 12 months of recovery, including spinal injections and surgery that added metal to reinforce my vertebrae.

These 12 months were the beginning of a lot of issues for me. I could never again play rugby, I put more stress on an already difficult household situation and due to the inactivity and a lot of comfort eating, I gained a lot of weight. This was the first time I remember feeling ashamed of my body. Eventually I returned to school (after an entire year out), weighing around 45-50kg more. Not many people outrightly pointed out my weight gain but it was obvious, to my hyperaware mind, that people were treating me differently. And with the body image issues at the forefront of my mind, I contributed all of this to my body weight.

So, I started to exercise. I began small with walks, eating vegetables and fruits, but within a few months it became several 1+ hour runs and gym sessions a day, having only eaten some fruit. The act of losing weight is often seen as a positive, especially if the person is overweight, so I was congratulated and encourage to continue by unsuspecting doctors, family members and friends. Soon I had developed anorexia.

I wish I had more information about the following years but it is all a bit of a blur. I dropped out of my A-levels, I somehow dragged myself through a year at culinary school, went to college and amazingly got accepted into Durham university. All of this happened over 4/5 years whilst battling with anorexia, which led to bulimia and eventually binge eating disorder, alongside confusing feelings of numbness and a constant fear which I now know to be depression and anxiety.

My undergraduate degree is where I changed the most, first year was spent the same as the year prior: constant fear, confusion, desperate for people to like me. Second year came with what turned out to be a huge step for me when I started to see Ed every week. Ed was my counsellor and through second and third year we worked together to teach me the things I had never learnt, things most of us learn as children (when I was too exhausted to bother). Things that most people take for granted and often don’t realise are learnt, for example, I didn’t know how to be angry or what angry felt like. Not understanding anger doesn’t sound too bad but it means that you no longer attribute negativity to others being wrong, everything is down to you.

These misunderstandings meant not only did I not know who I was, but I didn’t know the things I could be or where I could go. The ways people interact, and the ways relationships work were confusing to the point that I didn’t know what I didn’t know. This meant that what relationships I had in university were pretty much a guessing game for me and led to moments of uncontrollable fear that I didn’t understand. This chaos of learning “me” and how I can be myself with others was a rollercoaster. I had some ups, great moments of epiphany, but also some down, moments of sheer panic and suicidal thoughts. It was about 8-10 months ago that I remember hitting my lowest point: sat in the far corner of my room, rocking back and forth, my mum stood at my door calling my name. I was unable to conjure any thought other than “I want to die” I couldn’t release the grasp I had on myself, begging the inner me to let me go.

And through all that, I sit here telling you that these downs contributed positively to my life. If it wasn’t for the downs, I wouldn’t be so in love with the ups. If I hadn’t broken down to dust, I wouldn’t be able to appreciate each spec. Having to learn what makes a person a person at 20+ years old means I have a unique perspective on the world, and people, that I can use to help others.

One thing I wished I had when I was beginning to understand myself and beginning to share my story was someone else who had felt the same. I couldn’t help but feel like the odd one out in this world. The more I shared the more I learnt that it was a common feeling amongst people struggling, we all needed a place where we could unlock the real us by seeing similar stories and sharing our own. So, I made MyoMinds.

Now we’re here, I am about 60 minutes post panic attack, with my slightly less aching eyes and slightly more subtle pressure on my chest. As time goes on, my ups last a little longer and the downs a little less. I am writing this story to everyone who reads it, whether you’re riding your up or your rocking back and forth in the corner of your room. I have spent the last year of my life speaking to people through MyoMinds and if there’s one thing I have learnt it’s this:

No matter how lost you feel, even if you don’t know who you are, who you could be or what that even means. You are f*cking fantastic.

Things will get better,

George