More than dope

Why do we wait for something bad to happen to us to acknowledge how to truly live?

Who's terminal?

Sauvignon burns and hits a hard reality. 

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=1iSd_wTuA3U

Vulnerability

Amazing quote, something I've learned over time. Something I also wish I'd come across a few years ago...

'Love is an inside job. It begins with self-compassion and self-love. When you let go of the need to be perfect, you stop expecting the opposite sex to be perfect. When you stop beating yourself up, you become more compassionate towards others. When you stop worrying about what other people think, the real you can emerge. And when you can connect deeply, authentically and vulnerably, you can have a crack at the real deal, a wonderful loving relationship.

I am done with being the rock. Inside, I am just as strong as I was, probably even stronger now, but I have softened and opened to exposing more of my true self. Even when it's scary...no, especially when it's scary. I have learned to be even more courageous, "daring greatly," and in the process, I am learning to date greatly.'

This person is real.

You know that feeling you get when shopping? You must have it, see it, feel it, smell it and perhaps taste it. Once you get it in your hands you can’t believe your eyes, its wow.
When you’re waiting to see someone and you're counting down the hours, the feelings are quite the same but a lot less gluttonous :-)

Have a good weekend everyone.

Blink

It's weird when people die, after a while it feels like they never existed. It's as if your brain gets tired from the trauma and you question whether you're making it up. Blink.

Of course they were there. You knew them all too well.

Stretched, confused and empty- all you want is to have them back. They can still exist, in memories and imagery. I've been told to hold onto those thoughts, so that person doesn't feel too far away. They are there, they are you. They gave you life.

Mums, dads, relatives and friends. It doesn't matter who they are but they were a part of your life. At some point they influenced you. It's almost like a break up. A person so fantastic yet with emotions tied to them, they're strong enough to break you.

You must go on. They have already began to continue. A new life, a new journey, who knows-but it's up to you where they are now and I think that's the beauty about death.


I just wanted to write something as this weekend Alice Pyne passed away, an amazing girl who treasured life, for someone who sometimes sees her surroundings a little too grey, Alice reminded me that I need to love and live the life I have now! For me the small and simple things really do count.

Also these words reflect my thoughts for Harry, the sweetest, caring guy who has helped make a building a home for my friend. He lost his dad today.

I've been thinking about my mum a lot too. Her laugh, her voice. Her warm fluffy hugs in her 'Chelsea' blue dressing gown. Mums silly ostrich neck and her scatty mind. I miss her heart, the reassurance, her love. Im glad it was her pulling me along the carpet when I first got drunk and didn't want to open my eyes (the morning after wasn't pretty).

My dad. I miss his long chicken legs, his bad chef impressions, spiking up his hair to look like Gary Rhodes. I miss how he cooked oven chips better than mum did. He loved the sea, he loved animals and I loved watching him play resident evil on the playstation.

X

A face of hope

I'm trying not to feel silly as I write this. I suppose every post I write about mental health I have to make sure I don't feel silly. I'm going to write through the heartbreak and the voice which convinces me that no-one is going to listen.

One voice I'd like to have more of is that little voice inside my head encouraging me to make a mess on the page. It's the one which, out of no-where, urges me to write thousands of words down amongst the millions of thoughts which pitter patter in my mind. I need to be a face.

Most of the time I'm frozen to the spot by my thoughts, lately they've been of excitement and happiness. I'm also frozen by fear, hopelessness and overwhelment. However, my intentions and what I intend to achieve are never going to be real If I continue to trap myself in a mind circle. I quite easily convince myself that this box is right- it's only when I step out of it I realise I was so so wrong. I repeat this same mistake over and over again.

I must put more ideas down, I must speak up. I think deep down I'd like to become a face, a sign of hope, a voice, a representative. I want to do more in the name of mental health and If I don't stand up for this 'taboo', who will?!

There are several tips and methods I try to follow when there are good days and when there are bad. The ways I try to follow to put less pressure on myself. Instincts. Lesser the mind battles. Something I've been doing for quite some time is capturing, what some could accuse as looking for attention... Though, for me taking pictures of myself on the good days really help. I'm not looking for comments and most of the time I store them away for no-one else to see. Sometimes I take pictures on the bad days-these happen less often because if you are dealing with depression or other mental health conditions, it's rare you want to see yourself looking sad. Most of the time you feel too ugly anyway. I've got a picture I found today which I took of me on my 23rd birthday. I've also got a picture I took on the year anniversary my mum died. I glance back at the physical changes, whether weight has fluctuated (comfort eater number 1!) and if I can see signs of stress in other physical areas too.

On my birthday I said to myself 'I am capturing this!'. There was no-way I could leave this happy day behind. It was odd as it was the first birthday without my mum alive, but the love and amazing messages I received from the people I know really made a difference. It was an unforgettable day, a day when I thought 'finally this is what life is when it's good and when it seems less scary'.

I avoided pictures so much when I was a teen. I hated myself. I hated my face. You just want to scribble yourself out, never feeling good enough for anyone, anything. It's like an endless feeling you're too scared to end, but at the same time you don't want to accept either. It sounds vain, but capturing a picture when I am happy at least gives me something to look back on so I can say, 'oh I was happy there, that's me, I can do it, it's achievable, I'm allowed to feel good'.

So, here's a pic I took of myself this year on my 23rd birthday. I had a chilled morning eating posh raspberry jam on toast (a lovely present from my housemate), I tried on dresses which I don't go anywhere to wear, and never used to feel good in (I put on two stone and now have lost it), and taking snaps of my beaming face. Here I am naturally happy.

OK so it's a slightly bashful pic (but I'm well chuffed with my hair in this one!) and that day led to a lovely welcome in work, my life long friend (pretty much a sister) coming to London just for me (and she bought me breakfast!) and dinner in the evening with a new group of friends...

Things have changed a lot since then, but I'm still here. I'm still trying. I might not want to take a picture of myself today, but at least I know that there are days in the future I will want to take a picture of myself. I know this because there's been days like the above in the past, I've made myself happy, I can do it and I will.

Cheated by the rugby club

It's rare for me to travel anywhere in London, if on my own, without wearing my headphones. I contribute to ruining my hearing constantly; whether I'm on the bus, tube or walking down the street.

Last evening was a rare time when giving my ears a break provided comfort and in fact a story. I’d been sitting on the top deck of my usual ride home, reading a Rumpus journo article, when I raised an eyebrow over the conversation behind me.

“He would come home without any kit. I thought that's weird, 'you've been playing rugby.?!'..'ah I've left my kit at work'”.

This conversation developed as we halted into Elephant and Castle.

 

“He kept coming home without his kit, I decided to not think anything of it. Soon he'd come home later in the night and when I approached him he said he'd been “drinking with the boys”'.

It kept happening.

“Soon he started coming home and showering straight as he got in. ‘Don't you have showers at work?’ ‘Yeah but’” blah blah blah...

Ok.

“On a few nights he didn't come home til 5am. One day I was walking down the street and bumped into our friend Tim, he asked how Alex was- I was confused. 'He's fine...haven't you been seeing Alex at the Rugby club every Tuesday and Thursday?!' 'No?'"...

 

"So I decided to confront him and he admitted all.”

 

This girl got cheated on 'by the rugby club'. I thought a bold story to tell on the bus. Her last words were “I was absolutely gutted, it has taken some time”.

 

I might start wearing my headphones less often.