The Girl in the Photo (An Early 2019 New Year’s Resolution)

Today I want to talk to you all about the girl in this photo.

This photo was taken around this time last year. Nearing Christmas, having just finished school term for the year and taking a long deserved break, this girl was on her way to Melbourne to visit her well-missed family, whom she hadn’t seen in a few years. This photo was taken by her father, who had driven her up to the airport in the early morning, sending her off with love and well wishes. This photo was taken right before she left to board her plane. Alone. Hunched over, embracing her pillow in a lung-crushing embrace, scared to let it go out of fear she would become imbalanced and topple over. Smiling awkwardly and shyly, painfully, to try and mask how absolutely terrified she was feeling in that moment.

Admittedly, this girl was petrified of heights. She had been on planes before, but not for a long time, and never without the comforting presence of her parents right beside her. She had also been watching a TV series called Lost around this time, whose story plot revolved around an airplane crash.

But I know, looking back on this photo, taken a little over a year ago, this wasn’t all that this girl was afraid of.

This girl was afraid of loss.
This girl was afraid of the inexplicable fear that gripped her daily.
This girl was afraid of the despairing emptiness that so clutched at her heart.
This girl was afraid of herself.

How many nights did she spend tucked away in a corner, weeping to be rid of her thoughts? I cannot say; there were so many, she must have lost track. How long did she let herself suffer, by sitting in her silence? For too long. So much to say, yet so much left unsaid. Why did she hate herself, despise every inch of her outer and inner self, when she still gave so freely to others? Why did she feel the need to conceal all that was sure to burst out of her sooner or later? Because it was going to happen. And it did.

I guess I will never know the answers to these questions. What I do know, however, is that I now need to put these questions behind me. I need to let this poor girl go. Because this girl was me. But she is not anymore.

A year ago today, I was so afraid of myself. So afraid that I was ashamed. I was ashamed to be who I was. I was ashamed to have such dark and horrible thoughts about myself, when everyone around me was telling me how great I was. “Why can’t I just believe them? Why can’t I just be great like they say I am?” I don’t know, beautiful. I really don’t. I don’t know what was barring me from accepting who I was. All I know is that something bad was eating away at me last year. It had been gnawing on me since an early age, and last year I finally started to feel its effects. I started to feel like I was becoming the monster that once fed off of me.

The year of 2017 was a dark place for me. Everything was numb. I felt hopeless, worthless, devoid of colour. I wanted so desperately to be rid of myself. To just get out. The year of 2018 brought me some of my most difficult obstacles to overcome yet. It also brought me some of the most breathtaking scenery, and life-lasting memories that I will never forget and will sustain me until I’m old. The year of 2018 brought me out of my dark hole, but it took me to such extreme highs that it in turn caused me to come barrelling down – not back into my hole, but to the ground, with such force that it often knocked the wind out of me and left me paralysed. Left me to pick up my shattered pieces again and again and again and again. It was an oscillating graph, a fluctuating rollercoaster that did not stop even when I begged and pleaded for it to.

The year of 2019, however, is like a light, drawing closer and closer to me. This present year saw me at my highest moments and my most extreme lows, and left me exhausted for most of it. But this year has also made me stronger. It’s made me hungry. Hungry to change. Not out of hate for myself; to change for the good. Hungry to make a difference. Hungry to make something of myself. Hungry to learn. Hungry to be hungry. The year of 2017 left me broken. The year of 2018 left me devastated. But the year of 2019, will be my year. I can feel it in my pulse.

The change in myself that I am most amazed at, however, is over the past 5 months. 5 months ago, I was still scared of myself. Still loathing to be in my own skin. Still living in fear. It is over these 5 months that I officially began my journey of self-recovery. It is over these 5 months that I discovered the true meaning and importance of self-compassion, and how to build it for myself. It is over these 5 months that I realised my worth as a human being and a young woman, that I realised just how freaking awesome that I am. And you know what? I truly believe that I kicked the year of 2018 in the ass. This year threw me to the ground so many times, and every single time I got right back up. Whether I got back up with a hardened stare and square shoulders, or I got back up crying and damaged for all to see, I don’t care. Because I STILL GOT BACK UP. (Take that, mental illness.)

I am still learning to love myself. There are some days where I am totally in love both with my body and who I am inside, but there are also some days where I feel like I sink back into my hole of self-loathing. And that’s okay. Recovery is not linear. Recovery is guaranteed to come with relapses. What I have learnt in the past 5 months, is that this is okay.

Looking back on this photo, and even looking back on the girl I was 5 months ago, I am blown away by how much I’ve changed, for the better. I have not changed the person I am inside, but I have become so much stronger, so much more resilient, and I am so proud of myself (though I am still terribly afraid of heights!). Dare I say it, but I am proud of this fragile girl who was once me. I owe all of this to her, after all, for she was the one who opted for my recovery. And I thank her for it.

So, this is my new year’s resolution: 2019 is going to be my year. What I mean by this, is that I am no longer going to hide in fear. I am going to start putting myself first. I am going to be more aware and conscious of myself in that I do not put too much on my plate even if I feel at the time like I can handle it, and to focus not just my studies but all aspects of my life in important areas instead of just trying to do everything like I did in 2018, which is what broke me a thousand times over. And I am going to more frequently devote set time for myself, really devote time for myself, where I can just appreciate sitting with my thoughts, and do what I like to call ‘checking in with myself’. But most importantly, I am going to accept me for who I am, anxiety and depression and flaws and all, no matter what. Because I am doing the best I can.

Yes. 2019 will be my year. Because I am the stronger Breanna, the Breanna with fire in her soul rather than an empty matchbox.

And you know what, my loves?

2019 is your year, too. Whatever you make out of it. ❤

Trigger

Hi lovely people.

I’d just like to say something quick before I need to start my study for the afternoon (I need to finally stop procrastinating!!)

On Thursday night of last week, my mind set completely switched. Those of you who follow me on Instagram will know about it. I was having such an incredible week, there was literally no reason for me to break that night, but I did. It was so out of the blue and it gripped me so hard and so suddenly that I had to stop everything I was doing and just cried.

I did end up mustering the strength to look after myself very basically – feed myself, have a shower, wrap myself up in warmth, allowed myself to lay in bed. I was floating in and out of reality. All of a sudden, emotion would overcome me and I would lie there shaking and bawling my eyes out. That would last for a few seconds before the numbness overtook and I felt literally empty. I felt like I was losing my mind, losing all sense of who I was. This vicious cycle went on and on for God knows how long, until I finally sank into complete numbness, staring vacantly at nothing, feeling nothing in particular. The good thing about this complete absence of feeling meant my mind didn’t have the strength to conjure up any nasty thoughts, so I drifted off to sleep fairly quickly.

The next day, I woke up feeling a little better, though I could still feel the little monster wrapped around my leg, weighing me down. With 2 tests later that day, I chose to “push through” it. Got out of bed. Made myself smile. Hoping keeping active with both my mind and body would drive me out of this depressive episode. Sometimes, this is all you need – just a little boost and you’re good to go. And whilst I am proud of myself for getting out of bed… in the state I was in, this wasn’t the way to go. I needed to rest.

I found this out the hard way later on that morning. With each minute that passed, my mind set was rapidly deteriorating. Exhaustion gripped me – not from lack of sleep, from lack of motivation and feeling. My teacher in period 2 noticed and kept asking me if I was ok, after repeatedly pushing him away. Until I just snapped. I broke into tears.

My beautiful friends also noticed and did their best to comfort me. They encouraged me to go to the nurse, and one of them carted me away to go and see her, and – bless their souls – just in time too, because I was on the edge of a panic attack. I had pushed myself too far. I should have listened to my body and my mind’s warning signals. I ended up sitting on a bed in the nurse’s office, my face a mess as I started to cry uncontrollably. My whole body was trembling, I was hyperventilating, my head was spinning, my heart pounding. I was genuinely scared it would beat out of my chest.

My dad ended up having to come to pick me up. I felt so ashamed, sitting there in front of the nurse and my dad, unable to calm down. The nurse was so lovely though. She had witnessed one of my episodes before and stayed with me, helping me to gain my breath back. But, it didn’t stop the shame and guilt that swept me up. I think people tend to forget that although I am so open about my struggle, I am still ashamed of being so exposed and vulnerable to others.

As I said, I ended up having to go home. I missed my 2 tests, and a new wave of shame swept over me. It wasn’t that I wasn’t prepared for them; I was ready to sit them, knowledge-wise! It was my mental state that forced me to step down. I felt as though that maybe my anxiety was just an excuse for me to get out of things. I started to worry about what my teachers and peers thought of me. What if they thought I was just trying to have an unfair advantage over everyone else? Oh, poor Breanna, we should all pity her and exempt her from her classes whilst her peers have to do what she can’t.

And you know what the nurse told me? I hadn’t said any of these thoughts that overflowed from my mind. I was too distraught. But it was as if she read my mind. With my father’s hand on mine, I felt the warmth that traveled from her gaze on me, even though I couldn’t bring myself to meet her eyes. She said… “Breanna, we know you. We know that you would never suddenly just take time off if you didn’t absolutely need it. Because you’re a pusher. You push through things even when it’s detrimental to you. And even though that’s a beautiful trait to have, sometimes you need to just take your foot off the pedal a bit. It’s ok to rest. We all understand.”

This brings me to what I wanted to say today: sometimes, anxiety just has no reason. It can grip you so hard and suddenly, and there is just no explanation. There doesn’t always have to be a trigger.

But just know… it is never your fault. It is never an excuse. No, it’s not an excuse… it’s so much more than that. Anxiety is real and it’s valid. No one should ever feel guilty for this. No one should ever feel responsible. IT. IS. NOT. YOUR. FAULT.

For those on the receiving end, who witness someone who is in the same state that I was in on Friday, please direct any thoughts of them with compassion. We are so swept up in the stigma of mental health, the negative representation of mental illness, that some of us fail to understand anxiety just HAPPENS. It all happened so quickly for me on Friday. That morning I was smiling with my friends. Not even an hour later I had spiraled into a complete anxiety attack.

I apologise if this post is a little all over the place. My thoughts are a tad scattered. I am still a little stuck in the aftermath of my shaky experience from Friday. I just hope this brings across the message I wanted to deliver… that anxiety is not selective over when it presents itself.

I hope you are all well today. And if you aren’t, please reach out.

So much love to you all ❤

~Breanna xox

Slowly Killing Myself… Social Media and all its dangers (how do we combat it???)

(Lovely photo of the setting sky I took on my evening walk today… the soft pastel colours truly put me at ease. What a beautiful world we live in <3)

Heyy everyone!

So I wrote this last night in my sleep-deprived mind-set, because it was something that was just really irking me and making me quite anxious if I’m honest with you. And now I’d like to share it with you all, because I’m sure a lot of you feel the same things on some level.

What I want to talk about is social media.

I spend so much time on social media, to the point where it’s reeeally becoming a bit toxic for me.

I hate being absorbed in such a tiny screen, and hours just seem to fly by without my even noticing when I’m online. Sometimes I do notice, and that makes it even worse, because I can’t stop. I feel stuck. It just fills every gap of my day. Waiting at the bus stop or in the car. Sitting on my bed after I get home from school. Scrolling through pages and pages, meaningless by the time tomorrow reaches, before I go to bed. And for what?

Where is the time that we donate to ourselves? That we donate to others? That we donate to the world around us, the one that we actually live in, not one that we’ve created for ourselves in this tiny little box?

I know it seems a bit ironic, that I’m making a post about this online, the very thing that I am detesting. I’m adding to my collection of views. Pruning my social feeds.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the community of social media that I am in. It’s a place where I am able to help others and myself through sharing my experiences and sufferings, and along the way I’ve gotten to meet some pretty inspiring people, too. I feel considerably less alone than a year or two ago.

But it’s also taking its toll on me. This consumption. This urge and obsession for likes and comments. I won’t lie, I’ve been victim to it. I just don’t want it to take away from my life. I think that’s the line.

Life is beautiful, guys. And we’re missing it! Locked away in these screens. We’re absolutely missing the point. Why search something up on your little box when you can live it?

Just a random throw-in thought here, too: whenever I witness a truly beautiful moment when I’m out and about and immersed in nature’s glory, I always immediately get this strong urge to take a photo. “This would be a great backdrop for your next instagram post on how beautiful life is.” And that’s fine! The problem is that I start to stress that I’m not enjoying the moment like I should be, I feel that ever-pressing guilt that I’ve been swept up by social media, and neither self-peace nor captured photo is accomplished. Like, seriously, Breanna. (Ah, lookie, the essence of my anxiety: indecisiveness of the simplest tasks.)

Anyway, I’m kinda going off on a tangent. But that gets me thinking… maybe I need to set down some ground rules to help reduce this intoxication of social media, the guilt that ensues from it, and the consequences of what it takes from me!

So, here are my new ground rules (as of me writing this, right now.) You’re welcome to adopt them if you like, or modify them to suit you better. But I think having guidelines for your online usage is so important, so you don’t get swept away from life rather than in it…

1. Turn off all social media apps past 9pm.
I know a lot of people turn off their phones completely, but me being me I play out every scenario of how my night is going to go, and I worry that by turning off my phone, someone I care about may need me and won’t be able to reach me. Solution: ensure all my loved ones have my number, and mute all unnecessary apps!

2. Get into the habit of doing something proactive before going to bed, if you’re a restless soul like me.
I think part of the reason I’m so quick to jump onto social media at night before bed, in bed when I can’t sleep, first thing in the morning etc. is because I’m so RESTLESS and need to do something to clear my head!!!! Instead of adding on the extra minutes on my phone, I’m going to be avidly trying to do something that doesn’t involve my phone screen before bed. This can be a variety of things; reading a few pages or chapter of my book, watching a show that I like with my mum and cats, doing a crossword puzzle or word search, drinking my favourite hot drink of tea while I just simply SIT with myself and contemplate my overly-neglected thoughts by either writing or thinking (have some me-time, you know? Tune in to the little-me’s that make up my brain… they’re worthy of my attention too!), or going outside for a few minutes to look at the stairs and forget about myself in the presence of the vast expanse of the universe for a bit. You can change it up each night, however you want, as long as it’s a refreshing, positive or peaceful activity of self-awareness, reflection and/or compassion.

3. Allocate sectioned times for your social media usage during the day
I most certainly am NOT a routine-sticker. My actions and thoughts flicker and change every day. I obsess over planning, yet I HATE structure with a burning passion. But, I do believe it’s good to have a guide in place to help keep you on track, even if you’re in a chaotic loop-de-loop like me every day. I am going to start by allocating 1 hour maximum of social media every day, maximum of 15 minutes in one sitting, and see how I go from there – some days I may increase this slightly as I wish, and if I can reduce it, even better! I won’t keep the schedule too rigid. Hence, don’t beat yourself up if you go a little (or even a lot) over the limit. Building good habits takes time, just like what I was saying in my blog post on tips to develop self-compassion a few weeks ago. I will also restrain myself from going on it first thing when I wake up and get home from school, however I won’t ban myself completely during these times. Again, allow some flexibility. It’s just the same as removing any bad habit or addiction… you’ve gotta do it s l o w and gentle. 🙂

4. Aim to increase your physical exercise to combat your itch to return to your phone!
Once you’ve put your phone down, keep that bad boy down and keep active! Of course, sometimes exercise just seems like a drag, especially when we feel unmotivated. But it doesn’t have to be as big or spectacular as going for a run three times around the block or forcing yourself to go for a walk (although you most certainly can, if you want to! Don’t feel guilty if that’s not for you, though!). It can be as simple and as little as doing 5 minutes of yoga in your backyard, doing some stretches as you take in your surroundings, or even just takin a walk to the kitchen! Pairing your activity with the outside world will do wonders for your mind and soul if you can, especially if it’s a sunny day – enjoy this world while you have it! I truly believe nature has powers to heal us from the inside out. Even if you just look out the window for a few seconds on your walk to the kitchen, and actively get your mind to notice at least 3 things that you can see outside. You may surprise yourself with things you’ve never even noticed before.

5. Less scrolling, more engaging.
Yeah, sure, we’re being social on our phones. It IS called social media, right? Yes. Correct. The way I use social media IS to connect with people, and that’s wonderful. But next time you’re scrolling, think to yourself…

Am I engaging, or just scrolling?
If I am engaging with others through social media, is it worth my time if I am on my phone/is it something I am actually benefiting from right now?
Are there people who are currently here with me, in person, whom I feel comfortable socialising with and would actually make me feel better engaging with in reality rather than sitting on my phone?

So often, we push people who are closest to us away, and a lot of the time, we don’t even realise. Cherish the moments you have with the people physically here for you in your life, right now. Don’t waste all your time and energy in a screen. Be mindful of your present moment.
If you feel like a challenge, and the person(s) you are currently with in person are not people you know very well – ie. sitting at a bus stop with a stranger – put your phone away and engage in real-talking conversation with them! Of course, don’t push yourself if you don’t feel comfortable. But every friendship starts from the simple introduction of saying hello.

6. Don’t do things half-heartedly.
This is a saying that I still remember from my dad when he told it to me years ago. It’s stuck with me since then. I often feel bad that I push this little saying away, and have done many things half-heartedly many times. But I think it’s important to try and remember as much as possible, and to stop and listen to it. If you’re watching a show, watch it. With your full attention. If you’re spending time with someone, don’t keep checking your phone every 5 minutes. Turn it off if you really can’t help it. Just don’t let your phone steal precious moments from your life, more than it already has.

So, those are my 6 main tips for combating the pull of social media for now!

Please, please, please share with me any other tips for reducing screen-time obsession if you have any! I am always open to suggestions and I’m sure a lot of other people will benefit from it too, myself included!

Alright. Thus concludes another very lengthy post on my behalf. I hope you are all having a wonderful day/night, you lovely people. (It is currently 9:07pm for me over here in Aus, so I’m going to start unwinding now.)

Until next time!

Lots of love 🙂 ❤

~ Breanna

My Anxiety Story

Hi everyone. How are all of you today?

If I’m honest, I’m not doing all that great right now myself, but hey – all the more reason why I’m writing this blog. To help spread the message that it’s okay… to not be okay. 🙂

Today I’d like to talk to you all about my depressive voice and my personal journey with anxiety. I think it’s a core part of me, and so it’s hard to share. It makes me feel vulnerable, sparks my fear of attention seeking, opens up fresh wounds, etc. But the wounds are already open right now. So I may as well delve deeper for all of you, for anyone who is struggling to grasp what their own inner demons are telling them, for those who know all too well what they are saying and just need to know that someone else is experiencing the same thing, and for those who want to help broaden their knowledge about depression and anxiety… maybe for someone you love, or for other people in general. Whatever the reason, I’m glad you came. I’m glad you’re reading.

I think I might start with a bit of background knowledge of me. Personally, I think I’ve always known my anxiety was there, in the back of my mind, nudging me in directions I wouldn’t otherwise think about. Causing me to make small decisions out of fear (or the opposite – to be paralysed into indecisiveness out of fear!!) which would over time build to something as big as to what it is now. The problem is that I only knew it was there subconsciously. I didn’t know what to call this voice in my head. When I talk about voices, I’m not talking about some creepy whisper seeping into my mind, I’m not talking about hearing things or being possessed and going crazy. I’m talking about the small, frail girl who is my core, pleading for help. I’m talking about my conscience, my deeper thoughts that I sometimes fail to let rise to the surface.

My voice, my instinct, my conscience, whatever you’d like to call it, has often kept me safe. It’s barred me from acting in a dangerous situation, forced me to retreat from things that it thought would cause me harm. But bit by bit, this voice was slowly degrading my sense of self-worth. It would make me feel unsafe at random times and occasions, when I couldn’t actually see what it was that so disturbed me. That’s the funny thing I’ve learned about anxiety over the years… it makes you feel so totally vulnerable, so at risk, so completely unsafe, when you know in your own head that you are perfectly safe. And yet, your blood runs cold, your hands feel clammy, your heart starts to race. But why?

I could go into a whole sciency-ramble about just “why” our brains like to trick our voice that we are in some deep and serious trouble. Because that’s all it is – it’s science. Yeah, anxiety is a real condition. It is a real illness. And, oh yes, anxiety can affect you physically, in immense ways might I add, as well as mentally. But I won’t delve into that. Today is more of a philosophical discussion.

My point is, I did not KNOW that this was anxiety until recent years. How could I? I’d never even really heard the word until I reached around 10 years old. But it was always there… pressing in… like a shadow protruding from the darkness, or a hand gently pressed against my throat. Not constricting, just there. Threatening to tighten its grip. And that was the scariest thing of all, that feeling of impending anxiety. Knowing that it could, and would, strike up again when I least expected it.

At first, it started off just as little nigglings when I’d do something out of my comfort zone. Walking down the road to the shops, talking to someone I’d never met before, standing up on stage in front of my primary school to deliver a prayer or say a few lines during assembly. All normal, healthy stuff you’d expect a normal young girl to feel a little apprehensive about. Only, it got bigger. The squeezing in my chest got tighter. The niggling more incessant. And with the divorce of my parents, the weight continued to pile. Soon I reached high school, now at the age of 13 years old. Transitioning from primary into high school was a major milestone for me, with the anxiety I had to overcome. But it was something I could overcome. I had my friends, caring teachers, and always my family and pets to come home to. I was nervous, but I was happy.

It wasn’t until around the age of 14 that I really started my downward spiral into anxiety. If I could describe my anxiety in the earlier years of my life, I would say it was just there… sitting on the periphery of my life, getting comfortable on the edges of my mind, often dipping its toe into the waters of my thoughts to make a few ripples, but never a huge splash. To describe my anxiety over the past 3 and a half years to date… would be an absolute disaster. I simply cannot explain it to you in words. The pain, the fear, the attacks, the isolation, it is just something you need to have experienced for yourself to truly understand.

I have to say: I am in a much, much, much better place right now in terms of my mental health overall than I was about a year, or even 2 years ago. But in those early stages of learning the reality of what I was going through, I descended rapidly into a dark hole. And it was absolutely terrifying, my first experience in this horrible place. I felt as though I had no one to hold onto. My mind was playing tricks on me in the dark. This is the place where my small, little voice of anxiety turned into my great, big, nasty depressive voice. “You are alone.” “Nobody cares about you or understands what you are going through.” “Everyone is lying.” “You are a waste.” “You drag everybody else down.” “You’re just a hindrance to everyone else.” “You’ve caused all of the problems in your life, and in those around you.” And you have to understand: I had no problem looking the same as I always did on the outside. It’s not that I wanted to fake my emotions. I had just become very good at hiding my internal struggle, and it was my go-to instinct rather than bringing these attacking thoughts to the surface for others to hear. It was all within my mind, and no one, not even those closest to me, knew the real depth of what I was suffering.

I regret that choice. I lived for over a year with those attacks eating me from the inside every day. Some days, they were diluted, but I could not escape from them, because they were me. I had no idea how to formulate these thoughts into words. I was ashamed. I was confused. And I felt very, very alone and detached.

Around the time that I turned 15, I finally realised that this struggle, although internal, was far bigger than I could handle. I couldn’t take it any longer on my own or I would cave in and break. So I reached out to my parents, reached out to my two closest friends, and they pointed me in the direction of Headspace, where I got counselling for the next four months.

I then learnt that my anxiety comes and goes. Yes, it is always there, in the back seat, watching over my shoulder. But there are periods of time where it tries to take control from me, and periods of time when it lessens its hassling and sits complacently behind me. I learnt to acknowledge that these periods of time occur sporadically, and whilst I could never schedule in a time that I knew it would come, I learnt to recognise the symptons of it; “yep, I can feel an anxiety attack or depressive episode coming on tonight”, and live with it.

Thus came the period in my life I was at my best. I thought everything was past me (foolish, I know.) I thought I was “cured”. That I was better. I’m sorry, but there is no cure to anxiety. There is no cure for depression. There are only things that can help us lift out of it for a while, every now and again. But it is enough to sustain us. We do not need a cure.

Anyway, yes, I believed I was finally free for those couple months after my counselling, and so I broke off with Headspace. It took a mere few months before the demons came rolling back in to sweep me back into my hole. But this time, I knew I needed to reach out. Now, at 17 years old, I am back at Headspace, and I have to tell you it honestly helps so much to talk to someone that is outside of your life, looking in to give you perspective. At the same time, if you are able to talk to people in your life about your suffering, you must do so.

In some respects, my depression and anxiety is worse because of the busy life I am living, being a full-time ATAR student, working 2 jobs, and everything else in between. It is worse because I am so much more aware and attuned to my struggle. It is worse because of the strain I put on myself to be better, to help others. It is worse because the moments of panic are harder to deal with, and becoming more frequent. The nights are getting longer. The voice in my head is louder. The hand on my throat is tighter. The fear in my chest is too scared to let go, and is clinging for dear life.

But… I do feel, compared to this time last year, I am in a better place despite my mental illness growing stronger. I feel better because I have chosen to let people in. I feel better because I have let my anxiety and depression in rather than fighting it. I feel better because I have learned more and more (and am still learning!) about this important issue. I feel better because I have developed healthy strategies that help me cope in desperate times; such as doing things I love, like going for runs/walks, listening to music, riding horses, spending time with people and animals I love to be around, writing, singing and drawing. I feel better because I have learnt to read both my body’s and mind’s little signals that I am breaking down, that I am about to panic, etc. and – most importantly – LISTEN to these signals and give myself permission to have a break. I feel better because I talk. And that’s what I want each and every single one of you to do.

My mental illness is becoming stronger. But so am I. I am becoming stronger, every day.

So, even though my depressive voice is a little louder than usual today, the hand is a little tighter round my throat than it normally is, it’s ok. Because I know I will be ok. Everything will be ok. And we are all here to help each other, to stand up to the stigma around mental illness and say “no” to its face!

I think I’ve covered everything I’ve wanted to talk about today. It’s a long winded process, talking about this worldwide issue. There are literally millions of topics and aspects I can talk about, but I will do my bit, piece by piece. If there is anything else you’d like to know about, or have any queries or requests, send me an email or a comment below! 🙂

Be well lovelies ❤️

Anxiety

Yes, I have anxiety.

Yes, I have depressive thoughts.

Yes, I have self-esteem issues.

Yes, I am an insomniac.

Yes, some days I feel like my struggle is pointless.

Yes, some days I feel like I shouldn’t be here.

But you have to understand:

I am still me.

I am still a person, exactly the same as every other human being, and yet different.

I may be battling something deep inside, but I can still function just like everyone else.

I can still be, and am, happy with my life, though I have my days.

I go through hell and pain but I am still loving my life.

Just because you’re going through a difficult time, or suffering mentally, does NOT mean you are any less of a person than anyone else… it does not mean you are not living like you should be… it does not mean you are not still you… you are not limited in any way, apart from what you make of it in your head. You are who you are meant to be in this moment and that’s freakin amazing 💖

Body Image

For a long time, I’ve let others define me. I’ve let myself define me too. And I still do. I still scream at myself for posting photos of myself, scared I don’t “fit” in our standards. Scared to show a little skin. Scared to be my true self. Scared that I’m not ALLOWED to feel like this because “oh, I’m so skinny and smart and pretty, why would I feel bad?” Well, you know what? I do. Every fibre in me screams that I am attention seeking. I am still wrapped up in the social conformities we’ve created in our own heads. But that’s just it! It’s all made up. There ARE no social conformities, no ideals of body shape, size, gender, sexuality, intelligence, talent, strength, beauty. It’s ALL. IN. OUR. HEADS. You’re you, and that’s enough!! So BE completely in love with yourself; there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s ok to flaunt what you have and feel totally awesome about it. Don’t be afraid to take up space. Don’t let yourself feel any less than a goddess/god. And when you do, that’s ok… but know there are no real expectations for you to “fit”.

Be strong.

Be bold.

Be proud.

Be you.

Be loud.

And don’t you dare turn it down for anyone 🤪🌪🤟🏼🔥

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Fear

Fear is something that I grapple with on a day-to-day basis. Some days are better than others. Some days, my fear is limited, barely there, and in good spirits I think “I can do this!!”

But there are some days where I think… “I can’t do this.” No way can I do this. I know it’s all in my head but fear has a way of doing that to us, shutting down our senses, distorting the line between reality and illusion. For the anxious, our flight-or-fight response is constantly on the go – without any given stimulant or cause. It’s just THERE.

The fear I feel is a lot like in this picture. Like a thousand sharp knives all around me; one wrong move and everything unravels; I get hurt. There’s no real point where it begins or ends. Everything is connected and yet somehow disjointed. And it swallows me, surrounds me in darkness, engulfs me whole. Some days I feel like I’ll never get out of it. Like I have no control.

So what do I do? I draw. I draw furiously onto a blank page with rock music blaring in my ears, whatever gets my fear pumping (somehow, energising myself rather than trying to calm myself down when I know I can’t be calmed, helps). I get this fear out onto the page, whatever I feel I draw. And suddenly it doesn’t seem so bad.

Our minds tend to create bigger problems from almost everything we encounter. So draw it out. See it for what it is. Is it really something to get yourself so worked up over?