Who da boss? You da boss? I’m da boss.

Allie, Raine, Storm

It’s Allie. Or maybe Storm… maybe it’s Raine. Well I tell you what, you can decide who it is because you seem to know me better than I know me.

I am getting fed up of people telling me what is wrong with me, what I should be doing with my life, and what bad decisions my own decisions are. I know, I am walking contradiction, we’ve all already established that but I really don’t give a crap. What I’m saying now is how I’m feeling now, I don’t want to be reminded of what I’ve said before or what I’ve done before, because this is how I am NOW. I’m not overthinking this time or over analyzing because I cannot be arsed, I don’t have the head space for it right now.

I don’t even know where to start with this… I’m seeing Tara (psychotherapist) and yeah she has been a bit weird with me the past week, like basically telling me that I have bipolar or manic depression and advising me to switch my medication. She also encouraged me to look into getting another job… problem is is that she isn’t qualified to be diagnosing me or even suggesting new medication, and she isn’t my careers adviser. The last session I had with her though, I actually enjoyed. She showed genuine concern for me and was encouraging me to ask my doctor to refer me to a psychologist to get a proper diagnosis. Tara said how she was worried, and that if the doctor needed to speak with her then she is more than happy for him to phone her. I actually thought that was really sweet of her, however a few friends aren’t keen on her and think that I should change my therapist after what I had told them about my previous session. After my most recent session though, I don’t actually mind staying with her, because I was open and honest with her. I actually came away feeling happier.

Another issue is that I may, or may not, have an eating disorder. Two of my friends are saying that they “know” I have an eating disorder. My doctor says I “might” have an eating disorder, and I’m saying I “don’t” have an eating disorder (which my therapist also agrees with). What I do have without a doubt is control issues. I like to control my weight, I like to keep below a certain weight and if I go past that weight then I freak out. Sure, my BMI is low and I am underweight, but I can easily talk about food, I can eat loads and eat in front of people, I don’t cut my food up into tiny pieces, and I don’t throw food up or binge eat. I’m not anorexic either. All I am is underweight. My BMI is 16.3 and the healthy range is 18.5-25, so I can understand why my friends are concerned about my weight, but that still doesn’t convince me that I have an eating disorder. I accept that there is an issue there and I’m happy to look into getting it sorted, but I don’t like being labelled as having an “Eating disorder”. Why, you may ask? I don’t know, is the simple answer. Maybe it’s because I’m already labelled as having anxiety and depression, I’d rather not start a collection of labels. Or maybe I just can’t be arsed to deal with an eating disorder along with any other disorders I could have.

Which brings me to another point: depression. Yes, I definitely have depression… but which sort? Everyone seems to have their own ideas as to what it could be. We’ve got bipolar (manic depression), disassociated identity disorder (DID) or borderline personality disorder. I can relate to all three. My one friend and my therapist believe I have manic depression, another friend believes I have DID or Borderline. One side I trust more than the other. All this thinking of what I could be is starting to make my head spin, and I just feel a bit worn out. I don’t know what type I am, but I do agree with what my therapist says that I need to be diagnosed by a psychologist, you know, an actual professional.

Which now brings me to yet another point… in order to see a psychologist I need to be referred by a doctor. My actual GP is not trained in Mental Health, so she has referred me to an actual Mental Health doctor. I feel that he is a waste of time because I’m only given one appointment once every 3 months, with a 15 minute slot. He rushes me, and just seems to pass me off. So I don’t feel like I can talk to him openly about everything, and he misses a lot of stuff which could be very important, and me being me (no backbone) I’m just like “oh ok, thanks for your time”, and then will complain about it after. My GP has told me this time to write a list of everything I want to discuss, to hand him the list and be straight with him. My therapist wants me to tell him to refer me to a psychologist and that if need be he can phone her and she will talk to him on my behalf. So my task is to bring my appointment forward, which for some reason I haven’t done yet. Why haven’t I done that yet? I don’t know, there’s your answer.

Next we have work, who I feel are starting to get a little pee’d off that I’ve been off for so long. They’ve been very supportive throughout everything, and have really been trying their best to keep in touch with me and ask how I’m doing. It’s been nearly 6 months, and I know I need to look at going back to work at some point or else I am never going back. Everyone keeps asking me when I am going back to work. Some say it’s best to wait, other’s say the longer you wait the harder it will be. My parents constantly ask about what is happening with work, and with my money. I just can’t be bothered with questions, they are adding to the washing load which is spinning around in the washing machine brain of mine. Here’s some answers for you, pick whichever one you like most:

(1) I don’t know when I am going back to work, (2) I will think about going back to work in about a month, (3) I’m not sure if I feel ready to go back to work just yet, (3) I will let you know when I feel ready to go back, (4) You decide when you think I should go back, but please just keep it to yourself and stop asking me the same damn question.

I used to think that if no one asked questions, or seemed concerned then no one cared about me. Well, I was wrong to have thought that. I take it back. I’d rather no one be concerned and no one ask questions. I wish I hadn’t attempted suicide, so then I could have carried on with these problems and then no one would be involved in my personal life because no one would have known anything about was going on. I feel like in future if there was anything going on, I’d rather just keep it to myself. Yeah, I know, I’m going backwards. I honestly don’t care. What is stupid and hypocritical is that I actually ask people for their opinion on things… so I’m causing issues for myself really. I’m putting a stop to that.

Also, people tell me how I should be. When I’m my actual self, I am a laughing stock. So often I try to say something mature, non-childish, or non-geeky, and it comes out as foolish. Some of my friends will even ignore what I say. That’s cool, I’ll just sit here in silence. People think they know my mind. This one friend of mine appears convinced that I like this guy, but he has got on so many people’s nerves that I really cannot be bothered with him. He’s a strange one, but I am friendly and polite to him if I speak with him. I don’t dislike him, I do get annoyed with him, but I am not attracted to him in any way. Maybe she thinks I like him because she actually likes him…still. But I feel like because my friends dislike him then I should equally dislike him. It’s as if they think that when he talks to me and I talk to him in a polite way back, then I’m flirting. The guy has already caused enough drama, and yeah I had a slight part in that drama, so in order to refrain from causing anymore drama I am trying to keep it sweet. I should be far too old now to be getting involved in teenage-like situations, “he said this”, “she said that”, “I hate him”, “I hate her”. Okay, I’ve said a few of those myself, I can’t deny it, but it’s time for me to phase out of it and just be peaceable. I just want to get on with people now. No more dramas, no more fall outs. Keep it friendly. That’s my aim for this year, keep it all friendly. It only causes tension and tension causes headaches, and headaches cause being tired all the time, and I’m already tired all the time, so I don’t want to end up being dead.

I’ve even been really friendly with my cousin lately. We’ve been keeping in touch and speaking almost every day. I’ve been making new friends and catching up with old friends. I’m trying something new here… like you know, trying to actually be nice for a change. Forgetting the past, letting go and moving on. Is there any harm in that?  Am I causing the bosses of my life any stress by doing this? No I’m not, because I’m the boss of my life and I’m not feeling stressed out by being nice to people, even if those people have been or are idiots. That doesn’t mean that I’m turning my back on my friends though, or that I haven’t got their backs and I don’t understand where they are coming from. I’m just trying to be peaceable and then maybe my mind will feel peace. Positivity over negativity. Maybe that’s how I will get rid of my depression… or disorders or whatever they are?

Here’s to looking for the good, and ignoring the bad!






I’m back on earth now. I’ve plummeted back down, smashed through the surface, and hit rock bottom amongst the fossils, slowly but surely getting dangerously close to the earth’s core. I’m exaggerating of course.

All this week I’ve been so active and full of energy, like I’ve been a different person. Even today, I’ve been so energetic; I went to town, had my therapy session, met a friend for lunch, went shopping, came home and chatted to a friend, called another friend and chatted to them, had a Chinese…. BAM! I felt the fall, the thump as my whole body hit the floor.

I’m trying so hard to keep hold of the positivity but all I can do is sit here and try to not burst into tears. There’s so much stuff going through my damaged head, so many people’s voices, “SHUT THE HELL UP!”. Everyone has their own ideas about what is best for you, even your damn therapist. They say that sometimes you have to hear stuff that you don’t want to hear, well I’m sure as hell fed up of being able to hear. I don’t know how I’m going to be helped, the door is wide open, I’m letting people in and I am trying so hard to work along with the help I’m getting but I just don’t feel any better. I do not know what is wrong with me. Why can’t I just be better? I want to know why I can’t just have normal thoughts and feelings, why am I having these thoughts of inadequacy, of wanting to just give up and end it all? Why am I one person one day, and then completely opposite the next? Why is it you’re encouraged to talk to people/ professionals about your mental health but then feel worse off than before? Why does everyone have different ideas about what is wrong with you, but none are not exactly sure? Why do I talk to one person who suggests something to you, but then they tell you to discuss it with your doctor? I don’t want to talk about this. I want to be left alone. I want to just sleep.

Today I was advised by my therapist to speak with my doctor about switching my medication from citalopram to fluoxetine. From what I am aware, fluoxetine is an antidepressant which is usually given to people who suffer with bipolar disorder. So does this mean I’m bipolar now? I briefly spoke with my therapist about my fluctuating moods, from extreme happiness/hyperactivity, to extreme depression. I described it to her as having a barrier between the two extremes and not being able to see past the barrier when I am either one extreme or the other, it’s as though I can’t quite remember how I was feeling when I was depressed while being happy, and vice versa. I also explained that I am also extremely paranoid, if I am on my own in public I am constantly thinking that I am vulnerable to an attack. I panic thinking people are watching me, looking at me as a target and so I am constantly on my guard. But I have always been like this for as long as I can remember, hence why I was diagnosed with anxiety disorder; I had irrational fears. After I talked to her about this, she quickly mentioned fluoxetine and then quickly changed the subject to looking for a new job for me (even though I am happy where I work and I am not in the market for a new job). She has given me homework to sign up for a job search website. Like I said, I am happy where I am. She was quite pushy with it, and me being my weak ass self didn’t have the courage to be like “listen woman, I don’t want a new job, how about you stop being my careers advisor and actually give some mental health advice and guidance… like you know… what you’re actual job involves?” Nope, I’m a weakling, I just smiled and nodded and occasionally threw in a “oh that’s interesting”. Why!? Why, you stupid girl, why do you not have a damn backbone!? (Talking to myself FYI).

My mood is all over the place, and I can’t quite figure myself out. I can’t get a grip, and I can’t stand it when people tell me what my issues are. I know how annoying I must be: not wanting to talk about my issues, but then also wanting to talk about my issues… not wanting to be understood (because people just don’t get it), but then also wanting people to understand… not wanting to be told what’s wrong with me, but also wanting to be told what’s wrong with me. I am walking contradiction.

I need to think about this. I need to try and organise my thoughts, so here we go… self-analysing time:

From the very beginning; my aunt committed suicide when I was 11. I was close to her and it was the most traumatic thing that had happened in my life. Prior to then, I was an anxious child; scared of being on my own (including going to the toilet on my own, in not only other people’s houses/public places, but even in my own house, someone would always have to stand outside the door and I would have to talk to them), scared of public transport, always worried about myself or a family member being attacked, irrational fears of certain teachers or particular people (to the point I would rather wet myself in class than ask the teacher if I could go to the toilet, and also I would burst into tears when someone I had an irrational fear of would come anywhere near me). However, when my aunt died, everything escalated. I became increasingly obsessed with death and sadness, my anxiety increased so much that I was eventually too scared to go to school, or to leave the house without my mom or dad. I started self-harming (possibly partly was due to teenage attention seeking perhaps, but a lot of the time I actually felt a relief from it). I came out of that phase and took it one step further to thoughts of suicide. When I started working, my anxiety was so bad that I couldn’t stay in a job for more than a couple of months, if that. Over time that built up feelings of inadequacy and incapability of doing anything that other people could do easily. I had a couple heart breaks which added to the worthlessness. Now let’s see how things are now, I have:

  • Loss of memory (sometimes long term, more often short term), I don’t remember the days or what I did the previous day or the week before. I don’t remember how I am feeling when I am in one mindset to when I’m in another.
  • Reoccurring feelings of being disconnected from everything and everyone
  • Emotions that sky rocket high and then crash down: intense and extreme opposites. Hyperactivity, lethargy. Complete state of happiness, complete state of sadness. Intense positivity, equally intense anger and negativity. They can last for days, and then suddenly change in an instant out of nowhere, sometimes even in the same day within one minute my mood can switch. It’s almost as if I am switching between personalities, like I have different characters inside of my head. Each character has a barrier between them so I can only focus on one at a time, when I am one person I don’t remember what I was like when I was the other person. Neither person can see each other but they both know each other is there, and they completely contradict each other…
  • When I am one personality (let’s call her Summer) I am: in a complete sense of happiness, active more than usual, constantly talking without being able to stop, being friends with everyone and having conversations with total strangers, overly excited about everything, rarely getting any sleep but still waking up early having a lot of energy, spending money excessively, taking risks that I wouldn’t usually take, full of confidence, adventurous, switching my ideas quickly from one to the next, making constant jokes, smart and lively, the life of the party, the entertainer.
  • When I am my other personality (Storm) I am the complete opposite. I am: upset, crying over nothing, constantly tired or lethargic, not arsed to do anything, feeling bad about myself, lacking confidence and motivation, wanting to be left alone or ignored but then feel upset or irritated that I am being ignored, unable to even cheer myself up by doing stuff I would usually love to do, agitated and irritable, short with people closest to me, wanting to be left alone, withdrawing away from friends, thinking that people don’t care about me, feeling guilty for being the way I am, feeling worthless and hopeless, angry at myself to the point I will feel like I don’t even deserve to live, wasting the day sleeping, going for hours to days without having a proper meal, feeling empty as though I have no emotion inside me despite being full of emotions, feeling dead.
  • I get paranoid thinking that everyone is out to get me. Even my own friends, in my head I think that they are teaming up against me behind my back and talking about me, planning to leave me behind thinking that I’m not good enough to be around them. I feel like someone has an intense hatred towards and will come kicking down my door to attack me, or follow me around until I am my most vulnerable and attack me. Or someone may hire another person to attack me for them. This isn’t always the case, but when I have these feelings they are intense.
  • I never know how to define myself, I can define everyone else and see everyone else for who they are, but I cannot see my and what I am, I can never think of words to describe myself. I don’t know who I am, I feel like I am one individual when I am with one person, or group of people, and then I feel as though I am a completely different person when I am with another group.
  • Constant worrying about being left behind by other people, fearing that I’m going to be forgotten, or rejected.
  • All my relationships fail, and I seem to always be the reason why they do, I find it hard to trust people and trust myself to make/keep friendships with people.
  • I have constant thoughts of suicide regardless of which personality I am, and ways I could harm myself if not kill myself. I even fantasise about it, that’s how messed up in the head I am. I feel as though I am hopeless and that there isn’t any point in me carrying on, the negative thoughts are so overwhelming that I cant bear it and I feel as though there is only one way out of it. So many times I feel useless and inadequate, I feel as though I am unneeded, I’m just an accessory to people, that I can’t do anything else than just be their “little friend”.
  • I am impulsive a lot of the time, I do things randomly like take drives and just end up in places. I’ll put my foot down, and sometimes I will even drink and drive (not over the limit usually, although I don’t often even consider it). I act with stupidity, such as impulsively attempting to overdose while drunk. The thought had always been there nagging at me, suddenly I had the impulse to do it, with the assistance of alcohol.
  • When I am angry, I can’t control it. I either get really vexed, or really upset. Or even sometimes I will get so extremely angry that I will cry out of anger, and eventually be left emotion-less and dead-like.
  • I get easily stressed, and when I get stressed I zone out or have a complete breakdown.
  • I often feel cut off emotionally and physically numb.

So there we have it. That’s everything, I feel emotionally exhausted. Literally it’s all out in black and white, this is it. Now what do I do with it? Who do I talk to, because the person that has been assigned to me to help me with this isn’t helping me, so where do I turn to when I have nowhere to turn to?


I can’t stop, I won’t stop


My first proper post for March… a bit late but better late than never. It was snowing all last week which sucked, but I didn’t have to go outside which… actually yeah that kinda sucked too. It’s great getting snowed in and not being able to do anything, until you start to get bored. Last week I was well and truly bored and everyday I would wake up at noon and then stay awake for an hour before going back to bed for a nap and wake up at 6pm. That was my daily routine last week. In fact, not just last week! Most days actually…

Except for the last 2 days. The Last couple mornings I have woken up early, gone downstairs and made myself a coffee, and today I even cleaned the kitchen and did my washing (that has been piling up for the last 4 weeks because I just cannot be bothered) all before I even had my coffee! I went to the gym on Monday, on my own might I add! I then went to the supermarket and bought lots of healthy greens and fruits because I have decided to go on a soup detox diet for 2 weeks while throwing myself into the gym and fitness!

My soups are Watermelon, Aloe & Mint Soup (juice) for breakfast. Winter root vegetable soup for lunch, and Spring Vegetable Soup for dinner. In between I have been drinking alkalised water, and green tea. I have also made a fitness fuel juice made of beetroot, ginger, kale, spinach and cucumber and I tell you what, it don’t taste good! But hopefully it will give me a bit of “go power”. At the gym I am taking 4 classes a week; Pilates on Monday, Tuesday & Wednesday, and Legs, Bums & Tums on Wednesdays before Pilates. I’ve been going to the gym everyday doing 20 minute cardio workout, and have been doing a variety of exercises at homes such as weighted Russian twists, kettlebell lunge presses, weighted squats, resistance mountain climbers, and kettlebell swings and side bends. Literally I cannot stop. I’m so full of energy I cannot sit still for long which is the complete opposite to how I usually am. My bedroom is tidy, my washing is all done and I cleaned the kitchen after myself thoroughly 3 times in the last 2 days. I never clean the kitchen… because my mom usually does it, not because I live on my own and I’m a tramp.

I’m feeling really good about myself, and I have no idea what has brought it on. It’s strange because I can’t even remember what I was like when I had a bout of depression. If I try and think about it I can’t put myself in that frame of mind, I can’t even empathise with myself because in my head I’m thinking that I’ve never been depressed. This is the most upbeat and happy that I’ve been in such a long time, I really hope it’s not temporary. Well it’s currently 03:44am and I’m still awake due to being restless and eating sweets which probably doesn’t help!

I don’t want to think about my depressive ways as I don’t want this to go away! So I’m going to leave you be now and I hope to report back on my next post with positivity too!

Good night… or morning ?

Dear Wolf Pup

Letters, Raine

I wish this letter was full of pleasant things to say to you, but it’s not. I like to learn as much as possible from people who are close to me, and I often do. When it came to you though, I learnt nothing because you had nothing to teach me, or nothing you wanted to teach me.

You were different to who I thought you was. I thought you were stronger. You would say “throw me to the wolves, I’ll come back leading the pack”. That was the image you held for yourself and I encouraged it. It wasn’t the truth and I never should have aided your belief in that was who you were. When I was sinking you were too and neither of us could help the other. I tried, whereas you didn’t – and you know that. I think you were, and maybe still are, just as lost and confused as I am, and you didn’t and possibly still don’t know who you are now.

When you ended things, I was heart broken. Devastated. All the effort I put into our 2 and a half year relationship was all for nothing. It was a complete waste of time. My anger after our breakup was released through endless shots of spirits, drinking anything and everything, partying, kissing other people, and doing things that I knew I shouldn’t.

When you ended it you told me that you had been out of love with me a long time. I realise now that I had also done the same with you, but I was scared of the change and I was hoping my feelings towards you would change back to how they were. Do you want to know how I know I had fallen out of love with you? I began having thoughts about how my life would be if you let me do whatever I wanted, or if you weren’t in the picture. I could see myself with other guys, and I’d flirt with other guys, I’d act like I was single. The reason for why I did this was because I had no attention or love coming out of our relationship. We both just stopped loving each other because we were on two opposite ends of the spectrum. You got there first, whereas I wouldn’t have ended it purely because I was scared of the changes; scared of losing friends (which I did anyway), and scared of losing your family who I had become so attached to. I wasn’t actually scared of losing you. I was still heartbroken, because at the end of the day it was a rejection, and a rejection from someone who I had been close to for a long time. Remember when I asked you what your biggest fear was, and you said rejection? Guess what happened to be my biggest fear too!

I’m not angry at you anymore, because ending it was the right thing to do. I just regret that I didn’t have the courage to do it myself. I still believe that you let me down quite harshly, highlighting all my flaws and basically putting yourself on a pedestal by making out that I was the one pulling you down, when in actual fact I was always the one trying to hold you up. I was the one to make the arrangements to see each other, and if I didn’t arrange it then we wouldn’t see each other because you weren’t bothered. I tried to support you spiritually, emotionally and creatively. I was the one who handed you a paintbrush and told you that you had a talent, who gave you a pencil and encouraged your drawing because again you had an artistic talent. You grew up thinking you were the stupid one out of you and your brother. I told you that you were the creative one, and creativity was a lot more appealing than intelligence. When you had bouts of sadness, I was there for you and never hesitated in trying to support you. I feel as though you put zero effort into me. That still hurts, because even to this day I honestly think that you still don’t see what I did for you and how little you did for me.

I hope you are doing well with whatever life you are living, and I hope that you eventually find whatever it is that your looking for. Maybe you will come back leading the pack one day.

“Once upon a Decem…” February


Today has not been as bad as yesterday. In fact today has gone pretty quick, I guess it helps that I woke up at 10am and then had a nap at noon and woke up again at half 5. Yet I am still yawning?

Last night I went to my friends house which was really nice. I watched The IT crowd which was actually hilarious, so I am glad I ended the day on a high note or else I would have gone to bed listening to sad music, no doubt. When my friend told me that I could come over, it immediately motivated me to get up, have a shower and get dressed into actual clothes (as opposed to pyjamas).

Today the lack of motivation has returned, but it hasn’t been as depressing. I have just read a few chapters of my book ‘Nicholas & Alexandra’. Growing up, Anastasia was one of my favourite cartoon films, and still is today. The mystery of whether Anastasia was still alive, or if she died with the rest of her family fascinates me. So far I am really enjoying the read, and I have also kindly been given the DVD of Nicholas & Alexandra the film which I will watch after I’ve read the book.

Tsar Nicholas II seems like he was a cool dude, not a strong and dominating character like his father Tsar Alexander III, more chilled and a bit of a mommy’s boy. His wife, Alexandra (Princess Alix of Hesse) was a German woman who at first was not particularly liked by Nicholas’ parents because she was a Lutheran and they were strong Russian Orthodox. Eventually though, they married, she converted and became Empress of Russia. I found reading about Alix’s life as a child to be sad. She was a carrier of haemophilia, and her older brother was sick with it quite bad, before he died when Alix was a year old. She had 4 sisters and 2 brothers (including the one who died). Alix was closest to her sister Marie who was 2 years younger than her. An infection called diphtheria broke out; Alix, 3 of her sisters, her surviving brother and her father all fell ill. Her mother, Alice, took care of the children but sadly died from the infection when Alix was 6 years old. Alix’s sister Marie also died. For years after her mother died, Alix wouldn’t speak, but she remained very close to her Grandmother, Queen Victoria.

I don’t know why, but Alexandra’s backstory fascinated me. As I read, I put myself in the story as a fly on the wall. It must have been such an upsetting time for her. I’ve only read up to Nicholas & Alexandra’s coronation, after the death of his father, their marriage and the birth of their first child. I’m looking forward to reading the rest.

It makes me think, if in 150 years time a book was written about any of us, what would it have to say? Nicholas and Alexandra had wrote letters and diary entries which have been quoted frequently in the book. People could use old MSN chats if they want to go ancient… but they could look at our blog entries like this, and our WhatsApp messages if they are somehow archived? I wonder if people would be able to put themselves in our stories as a fly on the wall. Not that I particularly have had anything interesting happen in my life that would make a great page turner. It’s just weird to think that the people I’m reading about were actual people, they walked down pathways that people walk down today and they had a life like all of us do.

Not to turn this into a really sadistic entry, but going back to the other week when a woman local to me committed suicide by jumping in front of a train. I still don’t know who she was, I knew that she had children and was a similar age to me, but I don’t know her name, job title, where she lived, what car she drove, her childhood story, etc. I know nothing about her, but I’m interested all of a sudden. After you die, people become interested.

Ok that’s really depressing, let’s turn the positivity up a notch before I finish. Let me find some connection to what I was talking about before… Nicholas and Alexandra were the last Empire of Russia, Russia… Russia has snow, and…. It’s supposed to start snowing this week! There we go. It could be considered a bad thing… if you have to go out in it. For a few people though it means a day or two off work or school. Me, I have plans to stay indoors wether it snows or not! In winter I tend to hibernate.

Ok that’s as far as my positivity stretches. I’m off!

Sunday Snoozin’, Losin’ the Daze


It’s 3:40pm on a sunny winter Sunday. I am still in my pyjamas, in bed. I’ve got a mixture of feelings going on… do I want to say in bed, or do I want to get out of bed and actually do something? There is nothing that I can motivate myself to do, except writing this, Trust me, I am only just about motivated to write something.

I feel like I would be happy to hang out with my friends, but I don’t think they are wanting the company haha! I have messaged them to see if they’d be up for doing something, and although they have read my message I have had no response! I’ve flicked through Netflix, but I haven’t even any motivation to watch anything. I listened to a podcast yesterday, and I could listen to it again perhaps? It was a good podcast all about Anastasia, Rasputin and the fall of the Romanovs. I did a bit of painting yesterday but I’m just not feeling it right now. I could read my book on Nicholas and Alexandra (Romanov), I have also got the film I could watch. It’s just too much effort and I want to actually want to watch the film. I’d like to go outside, which makes a change. I’m too much inside my head at the moment.

Yesterday I went to a funeral. As far as funerals go, it was nice. It was for an elderly gentleman who was well into his late 90’s when he died. I met his great granddaughter who funnily enough was born on the exact same day as me. We are also very distantly related. Technically we aren’t related, but we share family. We have swapped numbers and have been texting which is nice. I don’t have hardly any friends who aren’t married/in a relationship, with kids, so it’s nice to find someone who is my age (literally), and as single and free as I am. All of my closest friends are married, 2 of them with children. I love them all to bits, but sometimes I feel like maybe I should be there too, but I don’t want to be just yet. I guess sometimes I just feel unordinary, falling behind. I am not looking to be in a relationship by any means, I mean if it happens it happens, but I am not going out of my way to find somebody. I have had many bad experiences and quite honestly I wouldn’t even know how to be in a relationship anymore. It scares me to think about it.

Living at home with my parents can be difficult at times. Since I attempted to OD they have been a little over protective, not that I can blame them. But they just want to know everything all the time: where I’m going, how long I’ll be, who I’m going with. I have to constantly have my phone on in case they call and if they call or text and I don’t answer to respond, they start panicking. There’s no getting away from them sometimes. Like I said, I can’t blame them, if I was a parent and my child attempted suicide then I’m pretty sure I’d be the same way. It’s just that sometimes I wish the overdose actually did work so then I’d have some peace and quiet! (Sadistic sarcasm if you didn’t sense it).

Argh! I am so bored, but I don’t want to do anything! This truly annoying. I’ll probably just end up going to sleep, it’s not like I am going to waste the day because I’ve got a whole other day tomorrow with no plans either. I keep yawning too which makes things worse. Seriously how can I be tired? I slept in until 12! It’s funny because as a person I am 2 extremes; I can be high as a squirrel at the top of an oak tree after it’s had a zillion espressos, or I can be as low as one of them sting ray things that camouflages itself in the sand at the bottom of the ocean and stabs you if you get too close. At the moment I am in neutral, edging towards the sting ray. It’s at times like this when I can feel my energy zapping and I’m going into that “bottom of the ocean camouflage” state. Once I’m there, it takes a whole lot of effort to get out of it.

Well, I might as well go to sleep. Maybe when I wake up I will have had a text back from my friends to tell me that they are busy or not up to doing anything!

Night all… or should I say afternoon?

Late Night Mix


It’s 1:30am and I have yet another case of insomnia. I have tried all day to be active, not including the 3 hour nap I took earlier. What?! I did 200 sit-ups, 50 kettle bell swings and I ran up and down the stairs 30 times, I think I deserved a nap!

I’ve joined a gym, but I’m too darn scared to go to it on my own! I do admire those people who just get up and go, do their workouts minding their own business and not caring about anyone else, and then go home feeling exhausted from their successful gym sesh. Whereas I go to the gym, look around to see if anyone is watching me, feel embarrassed and awkwardly do things to make myself feel even more awkward. Don’t get me wrong, when someone is with me I’m all about gym life, I am that pro-gymmer who doesn’t stop until they feel their whole body aching. Today I craved a work out. My stomach, legs and arms are aching, and it feels so good.

Since I’ve been off sick from work (the past 2-3 months) I’ve not been going to the gym. It was nice at first to not have your gym partners nagging at you to go even when you didn’t feel like going, but now I miss those pushers.

Anyway, I’m currently awake with my little dog lying next to me sound asleep. Well he’s not sound asleep, he’s making all sorts of noises… I think he’s dreaming. His little paws up in the air, flicking out as he does a little whimper. Eyes still tightly shut. I do love my boy. I’m one of those gushy dog moms who baby talks to their dog and holds them like a baby. My little pup is my world.

My dream is to have a big house with lots of dogs. Like a dog sanctuary. They’d all be rescue dogs; I would have a nice big garden for them to run about in, and so many toys for them all to play with. Of course, I’d have to really clean the house and garden to make sure it didn’t smell terrible. I’d also have to have enough money to pay for their food, toys and vet bills… and the house for that matter. Plus I won’t be working because I’ll be looking after the dogs. I need to marry a millionaire, that’s what I need to do! One who likes dogs… preferably.

Most nights this is what I think about before I sleep… a house full of dogs, not marrying a millionaire (although Anthony Joshua sometimes creeps into my thoughts).

Anyway, I’m getting pretty tired now so I think I’m gonna hit the hay, as they say!

Night all 🙂

Therapy session #2


I’m currently sat in my car waiting for my friend to come out of work to meet up for lunch. I’ve just had my second therapy session, and it was surprisingly very good. I went in half-hearted and a little concerned about what to talk about, or at least where to start. I always worry that she will think that there’s nothing wrong with me and that I am overreacting. Today though, I actually saw the cracks in myself.

Tara* asked me what my anxiety/depression triggers were. I instantly panicked because I couldn’t think of them! I eventually told her what was in my mind: death in general and memories from the past.

A week ago in my hometown, about 5 minutes from my house, a woman jumped in front of a train. A couple of friends of mine were there and witnessed what happened, and also got splashed with the woman’s blood and flesh. The moment I heard about this, I was on the internet trying to find out as much information as I could about her. I wanted to know the details of what led up to her suicide, her family life, her age, her job, etc… eventually it lead me to watching videos on YouTube of people jumping in front of trains. I don’t know why I do this. The moment I heard about the woman I felt so sorry for her (as well as the train driver, witnesses and her family). In some strange, sadistic, twisted way I feel almost admiration for a person who goes through with committing suicide, I admire their bravery. It’s not right, I know. Although suicide is “the easy way out”, it still takes courage to actually do it. At the end of the day though, suicide is wrong – don’t do it!

I told Tara this, and she agreed. She wanted to find out where my obsession with death derived from. I had previously told her about the suicide of my aunt, and so she took me back there. I can talk about my aunt easily and not get upset. However the journey she took me on today tugged at the root, and so the floodgates opened. She asked me to describe my aunt, I said: funny, bubbly, devoted to her family, organiser, kind. She would often spoil me, as aunts do with their nieces/nephews. My aunt was the one who kept the family together, who arranged the get-togethers when we visited. Arranged the family walks, and spent all day in the kitchen cooking the food for a big family meal; literally there would be tables all pushed together starting from the conservatory going through the dining room and into the living room. The family would all sit around talking and laughing. The kids would have their own little table (me and my younger cousins Kayla*, Inaaya* and Nathan*). Kayla was one of my best friends as well as my cousin as we were similar ages. There would be my Grandma & Granddad, my Mom & Dad, my aunt & uncle, my oldest cousin & her husband, Mike*, and kids (Kayla and Nathan), my second oldest cousin & her husband, and my youngest older cousin with her daughter (Inaaya). So altogether there was 15 of us! It would be such a great time. My aunt always encouraged mine and Kayla’s friendship, she would buy us matching presents and would play with both of us, we shared her love and there was plenty of it to go around! She cared for my grandma who had died 6 months before my aunt, and at the same time she cared for her mother-in-law. She had a big weight on her shoulders. The death of my grandma I think really shook her.

When I look back now, and dwell on peoples’ comments of my aunt, I see her in a different light. She was never without a glass of red wine in her hand, and in photographs she always looked unhappy. On a few occasions, she had told other family members how she felt like ending her life, but no one thought she was serious… until she actually did it. The day my aunt ended her life was a day that I will never forget. It was in the morning before I left to go to school. My mom received a phone call and then burst out crying. After the call ended she told me that my aunt had passed away. I was in shock, but I still had to go to school. Throughout that day I thought I had dreamt that my aunt died, I kept telling myself “what a weird dream!”. When I went home, I walked through the door and asked my mom “did Aunty Loretta* really die?” To which my mom answered in shock of me asking such a question “yes she did!”. I walked into the living room to see my dad sat there with a pint of beer in his hand and tears rolling down his cheeks. He smiled at me despite his crystal glazed eyes. He just sat there, staring into space. Later on, my parents explained what had happened: my aunt had taken an overdose in the middle of the night and had collapsed in the kitchen. Ironic that the room where she spent most of her happy times cooking for the family was the room in which she died with unhappiness in her heart. As I recalled this to my therapist, my voice began to shake and my eyes began to well up. While I had always been sad about my aunt’s death, I had never truly cried about it. I refused to go to her funeral, a regret which I will forever own.

There is one person who has hurt me the most. That person also had hurt my aunt in the past, prior to her death: her son-in-law (my cousin-in-law), Kayla’s father, Mike. Mike and my aunt Loretta never saw eye-to-eye, and they would argue frequently and disagree on most things. He would call her names, and really disrespect her. He disrespected everyone; his wife was scared of him, as were his kids. My aunt stood up to him, but all the while her motivation for battle was wearing thin.

At 17 years old, I had started counselling as I was self-harming and having suicidal thoughts. Kayla & I were still very close friends, and we often arranged to sleep over at each other’s houses – it was a big deal as we lived on opposite sides of the country. We made a last minute arrangement for her to come up and stay at my house for the weekend. I cancelled all my plans so that she could stay and I was really excited as we hadn’t seen each other for almost a whole year. The day before she was due to visit, she sent me a very short text saying “sorry, won’t be able to make it this weekend”. No explanation given. So I called her and outright asked her why she wasn’t coming, to which she responded that she had a party that she had last minute been invited to and wanted to attend. I was upset, and I told her that I was disappointed because I was looking forward to seeing her and I had cancelled my plans for her to come up, I also said that I wish that I had of known sooner. She started crying. Then I felt bad for making her cry, and so I apologised and I distinctly remember saying the words “don’t worry, we will sort something else out for another time, are you ok?”. I truly did not want to make her cry, but I was upset myself. Before I hung up the phone to go to my counselling session I made sure she was ok, and she said she was. My dad drove me to my session, along the way however he received a text message from Mike. I read the text on behalf of my dad (because I had no boundaries with my parents’ phones back then), and what I read made my heart sink into my stomach. Mike’s message read, “I do not know what your daughter has said to mine, but Kayla is in floods of tears. Sort out your family!” I was both fuming, and very upset. I responded on behalf of my dad and explained the situation in my dad’s words, with my dad’s approval. His response was no better, “I don’t care, you’re daughter has no right to upset mine”. That did it, I burst out into tears. I was uncontrollable. I had a complete meltdown, because he was blaming my actions on my dad, and he was putting all fault onto me. I felt attacked while I was already at my lowest. I grabbed my phone, and sent Mike a message saying “you killed my aunt, and you’ll kill me too. I want nothing more to do with you. Consider yourself disowned.” Maybe I was a little over-dramatic, but even today I can feel the hurt of that whole situation. Mine and Kayla’s relationship has never really repaired, she even got married a year ago and neither myself or my immediate family were invited. In that moment I had completely destroyed what my aunt had worked so hard to achieve: my family, along with my friendship with Kayla. Granted, there were other things happening in the family at that point; my granddad was very ill and there was drama between my dad and cousins regarding my granddad’s will, so maybe I wasn’t totally to blame, but I sure had a good hand in it. I’ve never spoken to Mike since, even at my granddad’s funeral 5 years ago I purposefully avoided him. He was a vile man, even to his own wife and kids. He’d speak harshly to them, and hit his kids so hard when they hadn’t even done anything wrong. He had a bad temper, and everyone knew what he was like. The amount of times I had to run after Kayla and comfort her after her dad had whacked her across the face, legs or arms. The amount of phone calls I received from her in floods of tears after her dad had slapped her back legs so hard he had left week-long hand prints. Vile man. I was never scared of him though, in my head I dared him to lay a finger on me to see my reaction. If I ever was to end my life, I’d write one hell of a letter to him.

So that was basically today’s session. Going forward, my therapist has said that we will explore deeper and deal with the bereavement side as this has never really been dealt with. I’m looking forward to next week.

* Names have been changed

Anxiety – has it always been there?


This is a long read so be prepared! You have been warned.


So I’ve been doing some recapping of my life, and I have tried to go as far back as I can remember, to my earliest memories of being overly anxious. I have been told, and I do agree, that my anxiety along with depression started from when my aunt committed suicide when I was 11 years old. I’ve been told a few times by various people that a traumatic experience or situation (such as a death/suicide) when you are a child can be the cause of mental health issues later in life. As I thought about this however, I recall being an overly anxious child even before my aunt’s death. Let’s examine the past…

So as early as being in my mom’s womb, my mom opened a cupboard door when lots of pots and pans fell out and smashed against the floor. She says that she felt me jump in her stomach and thinks I was asleep when it happened; the noise of the pans crashing on the floor startled me out of my sleep. When I was born, while I slept, my hands would open and my fingers would stretch out at any slightest sound. Obviously I don’t remember any of this because I was a baby, this is just what I have been told. Perhaps this triggered my anxiety? Could it even be connected to anxiety? To this day interestingly enough, I have never liked loud sounds and am easily startled; the sound of drums, the ‘whooshing’ noise of a train going past, even the hand dryer in public toilets (if I am on my own in the toilets I avoid using the hand dryer completely and just shake my hands dry).

Moving on to one of my own earliest memories: throughout my toddler years all the way up to my early teens I always had difficulty sleeping in my own bed. As a toddler, I had my own cute little box room next to my parent’s bedroom. However, I slept mainly in my parent’s room due to me being scared to be left on my own and my dad especially hated me crying. My older sister eventually moved out and so I moved into her room when I was around 4/5 years old. My new room was bigger, with a “big girl’s” bed and decorated to my liking with pink pony wallpaper, fit for a princess. However, I would still end up crawling into my parent’s room in the middle of the night and sleep between them. Often, my mom or dad would attempt to carry me back into my bed in the middle of the night, if I woke up though I would cry and return to their bed much to their irritation. I would also wet the bed a lot when I was in my own room. This was a reoccurring situation, on and off, for a few years. When I turned 10, I was obviously getting far too big to sleep in between my parents in their bed. They hoped I would feel too big to sleep in their room full stop, but unfortunately for them I instead started camping out on the floor in their bedroom on a fold up chair bed. For the next 3 years this would be the deal, until one day at 13 years of age, my mom threatened to tell my high school friends that I still sleep in my parent’s room. That sure enough made me sleep in my own bed, and I never went back to sleeping in their room again. Perhaps my mom and dad should have dealt with the issue a lot earlier on, but if I’m honest I had them wrapped around my little finger. Being the youngest of 3 sisters helped. The reason why I wouldn’t sleep in my own room was because I was scared to be left alone. I was scared of someone, or something, coming into my room or climbing into my window. I was scared that something would happen to my parents if I wasn’t with them. I had far too many sleepless nights for a young teenage girl.

My sleeping habits were not the only troubling thing. I was scared of going to other people’s houses on my own. I had friends at school who I was really close to, and as friends do they go round and play at each other’s houses after school. I remember I was invited to my friend Sarah’s house after school. I was terrified, but arrangements were still made. I faked being ill that day so I didn’t have to go to school. Then another arrangement was made, again. I had to be straight up and tell my mom that I didn’t want to go and that she had to come and pick me up from school. Sadly for Sarah, I was too ashamed to tell her the reasons why I couldn’t play at her house that day, so I didn’t tell her. I can just see her little face now looking upset when she saw me going home with my mom instead of her. Even now, it makes me feel sick to my stomach, I feel so guilty and sad for her.

Then there was my best friend at school, Vicky. We were inseparable from the ages of 7 to 10. Arrangements had also been made for me to go to her house too. This time I plucked up the courage and actually went, and was even looking forward to it! School finished at half 3 and so the agenda was to play and then have dinner with her and her family before being dropped home at 7pm. Her mom picked us up from school, I remember we went to the shop l and we each was allowed to pick out a yoghurt to eat after dinner. Then we drove to her house, and her mom asked me what I liked to eat (I never ate meat at this time so much to Vicky’s mom’s annoyance I was a little picky). Vicky and I then went upstairs to play games on her computer. I remember the anxiety started to kick in, the tears began welling up into my eyes. I felt as thought I could burst out crying because I wanted to go home. I told Vicky I needed the toilet, but instead went downstairs to her mom and asked in tears if I could go home. Although she was very kind, I will always remember her words: “Vicky will be so upset if you leave, are you sure you want to go home?”. I nodded and so was returned back to my safe place by 4:30pm. Another one which makes me feel sick with guilt.

Even with my own sister it was troublesome. I would often have sleepovers at my big sisters house where she lived with her boyfriend. When I was about 5/6 I would stay at her house for a weekend with the nephew and niece of her then boyfriend, and it would be such a fun packed weekend. Even in her next relationship, I would have sleepovers at their house on my own. The one time – and the last time – when I was 7, they picked me up and took me to see Chicken Run at the cinema. Considering I was basically vegetarian at that time, the film very much upset me. When we got to her house, she tucked me into bed and made me a hot chocolate, but I could not stop crying. Well into the early hours of the morning I was sobbing, you know those cries when you can’t catch you’re breath? That kind of sobbing. My sister couldn’t calm me down and at midnight her and her boyfriend had to drive 45 minutes to take me back home to my mom. As you can imagine, they were not pleased. I remember hugging my sister saying sorry and she didn’t hug or say anything back. I was so upset, yet also relieved that I was home. But I still feel ridiculously guilty about it to this day.

Even when I was much older I had similar issues. At 14 I was invited to another friends house, this time for a sleepover. Her name was Olivia. We had a mutual big-sister-type friend in common called Laura. Olivia was a couple years younger than me. She was Laura’s bridesmaid and Laura would often babysit me. So Laura obviously was very keen for me and Olivia to be friends, which we became. We would talk on the phone a lot, every week like clockwork. Then came the dilemma… she asked me to go to her house for a sleepover. I remember saying I would have to ask my mom first, which she understood. I told my mom about her invite and immediately said “I don’t want to go.” My mom’s reaction: “You need to get over this silly being scared to go anywhere on your own business, just go!”. So I hesitantly, with my pulse rate going 80mph, phoned Olivia and accepted her invite. She was over the moon about it, whereas I was not so much. I lost sleep over it, the anxiety was overwhelming. The day before I was meant to go to Olivia’s house, I chickened out. I in fact had a complete meltdown and panic attack about it, I remember not being able to breathe and I was going dizzy, thinking about how I felt then even brings tears to my eyes now because it was such an intense feeling. My mom phoned Olivia’s mom and explained that I wouldn’t able to sleep over at her house and explained that I had anxiety issues. My mom was so disappointed in me. My eyes are literally welling up right now while writing this. A week later I saw Laura who said to me “Olivia was really looking forward to you going over for a sleepover, and she was so upset when you cancelled it”. Here comes a tear! She continued, “it wasn’t a very kind thing to do was it?”. These words slapped me across the face. I wanted to curl up in a little ball and cry because in that moment I felt like I was the person to have ever have walked the earth. I was so ashamed of myself, and I began to truly despise the person I was.

These are just a few of many experiences. These stand out, and still guilt trip me even now. Along with the above, I was always scared of public transport. If I got on a train I would have a panic attack, and this was a reoccurrence from when I was a small child. When visiting the Black Country Museum at the age of 6/7 with my mom and dad we did a tour of the mines, we got 2 minutes into it and I had a panic attack and had to be taken back up. My mom was so annoyed because she was very interested in the mines, and I spoilt it.

I had irrational fears of certain teachers. I remember in year 6, I had a very kind teacher called Miss Shauna* and she was lovely and understood that I was a very anxious child. My grandma had died earlier in the year (6 months prior to my aunt’s suicide), and I was scared that her ghost would haunt me, for this reason I lost sleep at night and would be falling asleep in class and I could never go anywhere in the school on my own, even to the toilet. I confided in Miss Shauna about this, and she was very kind and understanding about it. She also understood that I had a ridiculous fear of my literacy and numeracy teacher, Mrs Ford*. On one occasion, I forgot to do my homework. I was so scared to tell Mrs Ford, so instead I told Miss Shauna in who reassured me and explained it to Mrs Ford. In the middle of my next class with Miss Shauna, in storms Mrs Ford and bellows at me in front of all the other kids, her voice echoing around the classroom making it seem even louder. I can’t remember the exact words she said, but I remember wetting myself in my seat and feeling my whole body tremble until I went numb with fear. When she finally left the room, I burst out crying and threw my folded arms onto the table burying my head while I sobbed uncontrollably. My whole body shook. I am in tears thinking about this account, when I close my eyes I feel as though I am back there. So small and innocent, as good as gold at all times except that one time I had forgotten my homework. So imagine how I felt when a couple of months later I was transferred into Mrs Forb’s class. One of the teachers in the year left and so the whole year group was re-shuffled and therefore I moved into good old Mrs Ford’s class. The moment I was told I started shaking, Miss Shauna sent me with my friend into the toilets because she knew what was about to happen next: I had a panic attack. I banged on the walls, and slammed the toilet doors until eventually I slammed myself against the wall and slid down hyperventilating. Miss Shauna came in and she held me tight. I’d got myself into such a state that I threw up.

School was a bad time for me mentally, especially when my aunt died when I first started year 7 (secondary school/high school). By year 9 my anxiety levels were so high I couldn’t cope with going to school at all, and so for the remaining years of my school life I was Home educated. Even now, I suffer massively from anxiety. It has effected my working life, college life, relationships, friendships, etc… it’s become a part of me, like a limb. Some babies when they are born they are born with extra limbs, maybe anxiety is mine.

*Names have been changed

Serotonin Molecule


This is not yet glazed, but I decided to paint a Serotonin Molecule on my ceramic tile.

What is a Serotonin Molecule? It is a chemical within the body, which is also called the “happy” chemical sometimes. This is because it contributes towards happiness and wellbeing. It is mainly found in the bowels, brain and blood platelets. It is used to transmit messages between the nerve cells, and it thought to help with constricting smooth muscles. It also helps to regulate the body’s internal clock and sleep-wake cycles. It is thought to play a role in appetite, the emotions, and motor, cognitive and autonomic functions. It appears to play a key role in maintaining mood balance, and low serotonin levels have been linked to depression.


The flowers are just my personal edit to the molecule to make it look pretty. I don’t think chemists would appreciate it, but ah well.