To my Best Friends…

I was having a conversation with a mate of mine recently about last year, for both of us it was the worst year of our lives so far. Recalling some pretty dark moments and feelings I noticed things I hadn’t really paid attention to before. My friends were everything to me last year, I was falling apart daily and without them I wouldn’t have gotten through half of what I did. Though I am sure they know all of this, this post is dedicated to you guys.

I’m not a very easy person to get along with, to be friends with or to live with, I am emotionally unstable, and I have a lot of unpacked trauma which I am constantly triggered by. So, to have the friends I have and for some of them to be decade long friendships shows truly how amazing they are. I don’t open up much, and even the base-level are enough to make people leave. I am very sensitive; I get lonely and I feel terrible almost constantly. Whilst being comfortable alone I am a needy person. I do stupid stuff knowing it’s wrong and get upset when it does, I don’t make things easy for people.

My best friend and I have known each other since day one of secondary school, she is the complete opposite of me. Honestly, I can’t believe we are friends most the time, she is the most upbeat loveable person I’ve ever met. She lights up my life, and apart from eating out (she’s a PICKY vegan, it’s a nightmare to find somewhere to eat) she is flawless. We were destined to be friends, we ground each other and there’s no one I would rather go to for a gossip and a glass of wine. Her family became my family and I know they will always welcome me with open arms, no matter how hungover I turn up at the front door. I was blessed the day I met her, and I hope I never lose her, truly my favourite ray of sunshine. (She also set fire to a table in Biology A Level in what I expect was her way of seeing if we were truly death do us part friends- she’s an idiot. I love her but she’s an idiot.)

Another almost 10-year friendship, started a bit different. Met at secondary school and only truly became friends as he ‘was concerned over me getting lunch with a broken foot’. I later found out he wanted early lunch and therefore forced himself into being friends with me. Years later, many breakfasts together and laughs we ended up an hour away from each other for university. I’m a pessimist, so when he used to tell people he knew we’d remain friends after school I used to roll my eyes. I was so wrong, many trips to Exeter and TWO RETURNS TO PLYMOUTH and he was definitely the person I stayed the closest to since school. Though our friendship started as a con I’m sure I’ll get my own back when he finds out I’m only staying friends with him for his cooking/baking.  

I was always sceptical of the ‘you meet your best friends at university’ I was so wrong. I met some incredible people throughout university, many of which I still like to check up on and watch them thrive like they truly deserve. Second year two flashes of light entered my life, there’s so many good memories and so many bad. The two years I spent with those two girls living together are some of my greatest memories and to be honest if I had to redo all the pain of my final two years just to get more time living with them I would. All those drunken memories, all those late-night Mario nights and all those morning-after memories. Andy Bernard from the Office US said ‘I wish there was a way you knew you were in the good old days before you actually left them’; my favourite thing is after reflecting over lockdown I missed out so badly. Those were my good old days and I took for granted they’d always be there and now I’m moving to the other side of England. You both make me so proud on the daily, the love and strength you both have is incredible and no matter where life takes us, I hope we always stay a trio. 

Now a little bit different, I have a lot of friends who I barely speak to, but I know they have my back. I have a lot of friends who are no longer friends that I have a lot of love for. To one of those, she knows who she is- she got me through nine years of my life, and I am eternally grateful for that friendship because I wouldn’t be the strong woman, I am now had she not entered my life. I have so much respect for everyone who entered my life and stuck along as I grew and learnt who I was. I was not an easy person to be friends with, I’m still not. But for those who stuck around I hope that I’m not a regret of yours because you definitely aren’t for me. 

My family means an awful lot to me, but I wasn’t open with my family from the start. My friends however, they took every step of the journey with me. Every single step. I truly cannot explain how important friendship is to me because at some of my lowest points my friends were the only thing that kept me here. I didn’t want to do such a soppy thing but at the same I couldn’t let this blog carry on without mentioning the real magic behind me. They are the reason I am confident enough to do this blog, they are my everything. I promise the next post will be on something less soppy, anyway I’m going to stop writing now as I am crying a bit too much.

Thank you.




I’m finally getting back on track with writing posts and scheduling them, so I’m not constantly stressed. I’m currently writing this on the 8th of August in what is undoubtedly unbearable heat; I am basically melting. 

I just want to say thank you to everyone who has read any of my posts, we’re almost at 1000 separate viewers and on an even higher number of views. I’m genuinely so overwhelmed. I lowkey feared that I would begin this blog and get five views and have to embarrassingly stop. I was very fearful that I was going to regret this, it’s turned to be one of my favourite things. I like reliving my journey even if it has triggered numerous breakdowns. 

So, as a special little post I thought I’d just recap the last month (don’t worry there will be a proper post tomorrow). I am currently two weeks off moving all of my belongings up north for what I hope is my last cross-country move, I’m not scared though. Writing my feelings, my journey out has filled me with the confidence that I can truly do anything I put my mind to. That revelation is what makes me so excited for the future, I need a fresh start and to get out of London but I was so anxious that I’d never make friends and I’d be so lonely but I’m finally ready to fully picture a future with a fresh start alone. 

Writing my feelings has taught me how I actually felt, I’m a very sensitive person but I do tend to push down what’s happened to me, so I never deal with those emotions. Reflection has taught me my resilience and my power; I bounce back every time and I am strong. I break sometimes but I will always rise back. 

I am going to end this here but let me just finish with this. If you need an affirmation you should do something, then this is it. Start that YouTube channel. Shoot your shot. Move out. Quit your job that is making you unhappy. Make your life your own because you never know what’ll happen. Do you really want to be miserable? 


Learning to Love Myself enough to not need a Relationship


There is more of my life that I have hated myself than loved. That upsets me. I have done so much in my twenty-one years on this planet to look back and think that majority of it I have hated myself is honestly tragic. I went through stages hating my personality, most of my life hating my body and hating my mental health. Hate is a strong word; I feel like I use(d) it too often and freely growing up and I’m not sure if apart from myself I genuinely hated anything. We spend years being forced into this stimulation world where we compete in looks, personalities and attractiveness for what? For self-gratification? Or does it not even matter?

Growing up, I remember every magazine having this truly gorgeous models; flat stomachs, thigh gaps and ribs showing. I spent my teenage years doing crunches on crunches to the point of pain thinking maybe I’d be more attractive if I was slimmer. I remember running home asking my mum if I could get a fringe to cover my forehead, maybe that would make me more attractive. I remember buying fake tans, countless makeup products and push-up bras hoping to get even the slightest bit of attention. (Obviously the last part was before my naturals grew and ruined my self-esteem even more). Buying on-trend clothes, bags and shoes to try and keep up with this STUPID concept of popularity, I changed who I was. I forgot who I was. I was sixteen when pictures were spread of mine, they were private. 

Boys began messaging me, trying to get some and I was so overwhelmed. I was more than two pieces of fat on my chest. I am still more than that. The worst thing was they would message me all night, from leaving school to going to sleep BUT walk past me in school ignoring that they even knew me. Like I was some kind of disgusting secret, that people knowing they would speak to me was vile. You can only imagine what effect that had on my self-confidence. I didn’t report anything, I didn’t do anything. I can’t even begin to comprehend what went through that boys’ brain or his friends who spread it. But you hurt me. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that pain. 

The following guy spent his time jumping between me and some other girl who was in most of my classes. She spread a lot of rubbish about me, said I was chasing this guy and that he felt bad for me. It wasn’t till a year later that I told her he’d asked me out the day before he asked her, and I’d said no out of respect. But hearing people chat rubbish about me, that helped my confidence too. I stopped caring about what people thought. Honestly, I stopped with boys. People assumed they knew my business and they didn’t. There were rumours about what I was doing in my free time. None of it was true. 

I went to university for a fresh start, I barely got with a guy the whole of first year and focused on getting myself in a good space. Boys weren’t a priority when I was trying to come to terms with my PCOS and re-diagnosis of depression. It was quite nice and peaceful, genuinely and like I’m not attempting to be mean to boys/men, but I was finally stress-free. I heard a lot of rumours though and to be honest I don’t know where they began let alone what spurred them along. Girls would say because of the clothes I wore out I was making my way around the whole of Plymouth, but then they’d post that girls shouldn’t be judged by their clothes. I was confident in what I wore, and nothing was going to stop that, just would’ve been nicer if people hadn’t spread rumours.

I don’t believe virginity is real, to me the whole idea of it is a way of shaming women into giving up a part of themselves to a man. Losing your virginity isn’t a big deal. Nor is it a loss. It doesn’t make you any less of a person or any more of a person. To me I’m not ashamed I lost mine at 19, I was ready then. I was ready before, but I didn’t force it, everyone kept telling me to just do it and I knew I didn’t want to give in to pressure. Losing my virginity meant nothing to me, I was the same woman after that I was before. 

Not long after I fell in love for the first time. He catfished me. He wasn’t who he said he was. I got played. Before I fell for him, I was heartless, I didn’t get feelings and I was so confident within myself I never let my guard down. But I did and it backfired. The day he told me the truth, that he had a girlfriend and he was using me to forget how insecure his relationship was, I was hungover, and I cried all day. I sat with my friends bawling my eyes out, I was heartbroken. I’m now friends with the ‘real’ guy, and honestly, I know he doesn’t read this, so I feel comfortable saying, he changed me. I let my guard down and yes it backfired, but I also gained a really close friend, a deeper understanding of myself and now I get to be the butt of all ‘how can someone be catfished’ jokes. I don’t regret it at all. 

After him there was two main boys, I’ll call them boys because they were definitely not mature enough to be men. I didn’t let my guard fall and I didn’t fall as quickly as I was scared I would. I’d love to sit here and say there was some success but to be honest I don’t feel like I even learnt much from it. The only thing I learnt is people will take take take and never give. I put so much into my friendships, my relationships and the support I give is 24/7 yet these boys struggled to maintain a conversation about my pain for ten minutes without comparing. I don’t want to be too negative to these guys because to be honest I don’t know if they read this and I don’t want people feeling negative about me.

So where am I now? I’m happy. I like being single, I genuinely don’t know how I’d cope with being in anything more. I’m focused on me and my future. I went from doing everything I can for boys to notice me to ignoring the attention I get. I find myself on ‘dating’ apps for the conversation and get bored as quick as it takes to match someone. I’m still young. I’m not rushing anything. I’ve done my fair share of bad stories; I’ve forced myself through some bad experiences and now I am just letting fate take its course. If I end up single with 10 cats I’ll be just as happy as with a man. I love myself enough to not need someone, and that’s character growth. 

I want to quickly close this apologising to anyone who may be offended or upset by this post, I doubt anyone I speak about reads this but still knowing something is about you isn’t the best feeling. However, this is my story and you are part of my journey. I wish you nothing but the best in the future, no matter how things ended.



I’m so sorry this has taken me so long; between doing some university shopping and getting back into this new state of normality I’ve been having some terrible low moods. This has led to a lack of motivation and I am truly struggling to do much without feeling exhausted, I hope that this feeling is temporary and that I am on my way to better moods, but I can’t guarantee that feeling. 

I actually began writing a post yesterday on regrets, however I found writing about them heightened my sadness and I just found myself moving about so perhaps there’s a better time to speak about that. I find sacrifice is a better way to describe my adolescent years, in a wide overview I sacrificed my youth to mental health. I hope the following explains why I feel that way. 

Family. I didn’t tell my family about any of my problems till I was 19, now I know that the reaction would’ve been so supporting but back then I didn’t. I had such a good growing up because I had a supportive family but still, I found the negatives, my anxiety would double cross me, and I would feel as though I was the disappointment of the family etc. Obviously, I couldn’t help feeling like this, but I can’t help but think what if I’d told the truth. Maybe I would’ve had less pressure on my shoulders, and I wouldn’t have resorted to some of the terrible things I did. I am truly so lucky to have the family I have, and I know some people aren’t as lucky, I truly wish everyone the best of luck and love when it comes to speaking to family about mental health. It can truly make or break you. I don’t actually know if this is a sacrifice, but I feel like I did sacrifice a better relationship with my family. I definitely took for granted the love they gave me, and I wish I could get those years back. 

Love. Those who know me well will know I am a commitment-phobe. I’ve had relationships that have broken me, and that sort of trauma is indescribable. There’s been times when things have been going well and my mental health has become an issue for either me or him. One of the greatest sacrifices of having my mental health is never knowing if someone will stick around. I’m not saying it’s impossible, but I know in many cases my mental health has been the cause of deterioration. I am happily single; I truly mean that. I like myself enough that if I am alone for the rest of my life, I accept that. I just wish my mental health hadn’t been the cause of people leaving me. I sacrificed falling in love when I got diagnosed. 

Friendship. I’m not the same person I was 10 years ago. Even 2 years ago. I have grown, I have lost, and I have changed. Losing friends is the hardest part of my life because I fight for my friendships. My friend was telling me about something the other day; when people begin to lose their relationships, they fight and fight, but they never fight for their friendships. It just becomes lost. Maybe the fact I’m single and have been for several years is why friendships are so important to me, but if I’ve stopped being friends with someone it is for a good reason. I know my mental health is a lot, I never put it on other people. If it feels that way it’s because you’ve taken it on your shoulders, I wouldn’t want anyone to live in my shoes for a day and feel life how I feel it. I sacrificed good friendships for my mental health, to all those people I’m sorry you couldn’t stick around because one day you will regret that. 

When I planned this, I wrote time and my youth to be headings. I think it’s the same to be honest. A 10-year-old shouldn’t be starving. A 14-year-old shouldn’t be suicidal. A 19-year-old shouldn’t have mourned the death of 7 friends. A 21-year-old shouldn’t be mourning the idea of having children being ripped from them. But here I am. I sacrificed my youth & my time to finding the motivation to stay alive. If fate hadn’t played a part, I don’t think I’d be alive right now. I shouldn’t look back on my childhood and be crying my eyes out as I lost it all to mental health. I can’t remember a time I was happy. I can’t remember a time where I loved myself. I sacrificed everything in my life to feel this way.

And yet I am so grateful. I watched some terrible things happen to both me and those around me. I cried and cried. I took my body through hell and back, I took my head through hell and back to get to now. I sacrificed the first 21 and a half years of my life to be happy now. I am so happy I’m alive. I am so happy I am here today. I have rough days. I have rough months. But wow I am so happy to be alive. Sometimes self-reflection forces unwanted feelings to resurface and that’s definitely what happened yesterday, but honestly, I am in the greatest place I could be right now. I am so grateful for being alive. 

The next post will be up very soon I promise. Also, I got my nails done on Monday and they are so long I was really struggling to type on my laptop and had to move to my phone notes so that could really slow the writing of my posts. I hope you are all being safe and living life. 

Being the Underachieving Child


Sorry I didn’t post yesterday; I had such a headache from sitting on flights all day with a mask and not hydrating properly that I barely started writing something which I’ve since voided. I also started something else but then decided it was rubbish last minute, I’m a little bit of a mess at the moment trying to lodge into being back home in this new normal which I was excluded from before having been on an island which has had a mere 21 cases since coronavirus began. So, I rebegin writing another post on a completely different topic to the last two with my cat for company and a depression playlist playing in the background.

I think me and my sister have been waiting for me to write this for quite a while. I believe the pressure has gotten to both of us, especially in the past and it has had quite negative effects on me mainly. I think the best way to start is a small introduction on why this topic is so personal, though I do believe it is quite universal. Disclaimer: my parents love us both individually and together, we are very different and though this might not paint the greatest light I know my parents love us equally even if my sister is the outstanding child and I am quite simply alive.

My sister is two years younger than me. She is sporty and excelled in many sports including swimming which she was competitive in, and cross country running which she also used to race in. She excels academically, she had all A*’s apart from one A in GCSES and got A*AB at A Levels and now studies at Edinburgh University. She is creative, she currently studies Fashion at University and she is incredible at illustrations, art and even fashion. I’ll link her Instagram for her art as I’m sure she’d appreciate the shoutout. Though I’m sure my father would disagree, she’s his little princess and they spend their evenings walking 5k’s on top of 5k runs a few times a week. 

Me on the other hand, I can’t run more than 400m’s without getting light-headed. My chest makes it difficult for me to exercise and thanks to my PCOS I barely lose any weight. I got one A in my GCSES and saw an array of B’s and C’s with one D (funnily enough the one A my sister had in Latin was my D) and I got DEU in my A Levels, so definitely not academically gifted. Unlike my sister I didn’t have the privilege of looking at league tables when applying to university and instead chose wherever would have me. I can’t draw, but I am quite a good writer (if I do say so myself). Basically, my sister got all the good genes and I got several mental illnesses. If that was a category, I’d be quite a few up on my sister. 

Before secondary school, I was amazing at school. I guess that’s why I never really learnt how to study, I still don’t really know how to revise. Secondary school tested me; I remember vividly coming home crying because I was stupid. I wasn’t. There was just insane pressure from my school to be the best. My sister was the opposite, her grades were insane. They rarely strayed from an A* and even then, it was just to an A. Whereas my grades were at a C/D level. 

I don’t know exactly when the turning point was, but I remember actively feeling pressured into working myself to death trying to understand subjects which made no sense to live up to my sisters’ expectations. She was two years younger and her grades were ten times better than mine ever were. My parents didn’t really know that I was struggling with actually knowing how to study, to memorize things; it wasn’t that I wasn’t paying attention I just physically couldn’t remember things and my anxiety would flare up during exams and my memory would erase.

If I’d been more honest from the start maybe I would’ve been able to admit why my grades were terrible, that my mental health was deteriorating, and I had very little energy but all of it was being transferred into fighting to stay alive. I acted up a lot, in both school and at home. I thought that if I acted as if I was going nowhere and I was a lost cause, people would believe it. It didn’t work, the pressure got harder and I broke more. I used to tell my parents my grades 20 minutes before parent evenings so they wouldn’t give me two sets of lectures and instead only get mad at me after them. My teachers didn’t help, despite telling me to my face I’d never make it and I was a failure they were all too happy to sit and lie to my parents that I had a lot of wasted potential. 

The thing with pressure is, after a while you give up. I was fifteen, my friends had just died and I sat my mocks for my GCSE’s. The grades were solid C and below and the worst was my Latin grade with a U; I’ve never really admitted this but that grade stung. I’d studied so hard in a subject I despised because I wanted to throw it back in my teachers face. Instead he stood grinning after telling me I got a U and that I should really consider dropping the subject as I was academically inept. That parents evening is the first time my mum stood up for me in front of my teachers, she didn’t take any of his rubbish and for the first time I could feel the pressure lifting. Life was hard that month, my academics was the least of my problems, but my teachers were making me feel as if they should be top priority. 

Then came the age of teacher’s comparing me and my sister, saying we were so different. That meant she was so smart, and I was lost, I understood what they were saying. I became even more insecure about my academics and then did the worst thing I could’ve done. I gave up. I stopped studying and caring, I was working part-time, and I was shattered from dealing with my mental health. I got into fights constantly because I was throwing away my life. I was to be fair, but I deserved it, I had so many unspoken battles and that’s what mattered to me. 

I didn’t know whether the pressure got to my sister, it wasn’t till a year or so ago where we spoke about it. She said she felt so pressured into living up to me and I was flabbergasted. I was a lost cause, I had nothing that she would have to live up to. Then she explained, I spoke out. I wasn’t scared of anything (I was but I don’t think she knew that), I wasn’t quiet. I had acted myself into the greatest scene of made up self-confidence there was, I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted but people thought I did know. She didn’t have a clue, she’s very introverted whereas despite my anxiety I excel in social situations.

To this day I’m still shocked my sister felt there was pressure on her shoulders, I guess when you never speak about things it is very easy to not realise what is really going on. Me and my sister are polar opposites, but we are there for each other. It always makes me laugh when people say they wish their sibling relationship was like ours because we fight constantly but it never lasts longer than a few hours. If I could’ve chose a sister, I don’t think I could’ve chosen anyone better, I’ll give her one hour till she annoys me, and I retract that statement. (It’s alright because she doesn’t read my blog despite my constant support on her art account). 

So, what advice can I give? It’s not always plain and simple and it’s not just how you feel. Pressure is horrific and honestly, I wish I could tell all those teachers how badly they affected me. I know how hard the job probably is but placing pressure on students without getting to the root of the problem does nothing. Only one teacher of mine noticed that it was my anxiety that was affecting my memory and the fact I didn’t know how to study, one teacher out of the masses I came across noticed I wasn’t a lost cause. Please don’t sit and struggle, don’t even give up. The pressure almost broke me, and it wasn’t worth it, my sister is incredible yes, but so am I. Also, she is studying fashion so unless she makes it, she’ll be living in my basement.


Living with Anxiety


I started writing this 3 weeks ago. It wasn’t the planned post for today, but I noticed that the topic was getting me angry and I didn’t want to write in a place of rage so that post will have to wait. 

My anxiety is the calmest of my mental illnesses, sometimes I physically forget about it because I feel like I’ve made so much progress since I got diagnosed with it when I was eleven. However, my panic attacks are less controlled. Sometimes I come across my triggers and I can’t see, or breathe, or talk and I feel like I’ve got such a heavy weight on my heart and I can’t help myself. In my last year of university, I was having panic attacks most weeks, mainly after tutorial meetings where despite being ahead, I was overwhelmed with feelings of failure and stupidity. After lockdown began, my panic attacks became much more frequent and as the final submission dates crept forwards I couldn’t help regretting thinking I was good enough for university. Sometimes trying to explain that to people was the hardest thing, having ‘made it this far’ ‘why was it so hard to do the last two assignments’; but that’s the thing with my anxiety I can’t control when I’m going to feel useless and though I know it’s somewhat stupid I can’t stop it. 

My triggers come from my past experiences and especially ones surrounding education having grown up in a household of high achievers, it was difficult being the only person who wasn’t educationally bright. This means that in times where I put my brain to the test, I often underestimate myself and flashbacks of being told horrible things from teachers throughout school come back and haunt me. I don’t personally believe that past experience triggers will ever leave, and that’s probably what makes them even harder as if I don’t learn to control them then I will probably spend the rest of my career having panic attacks over the fear that my previous education could impact my chances of job hiring. But despite that I am learning that despite failing my A Levels; I have been accepted to numerous jobs, my undergraduate and postgraduate degree. So as much as I know I can’t just say GCSE and A Level grades don’t matter- I am doing pretty well without them. 

My anxiety is generally tame; I don’t really speak up out of turn, I don’t generally put myself in situations which make me uncomfortable and I usually have to hype myself up before something or I risk having a panic attack if things aren’t in my specific type of order. I’m a very organised person, my friends would always laugh at me because I would organise holidays, day outs, everything basically weeks or even months in advance. I didn’t really understand why I felt the need to do this, until I started to let other people take control or not plan everything and I noticed my anxiety heighten. Though I know I can be flexible if I have to be, I know I can’t push myself too much with that knowledge. I’m not a spontaneous person, I don’t think I ever will be. The most spontaneous I’ve ever been is deciding to go out two hours before, and I’d still be a ball of stress on those nights. 

I have learnt a lot about myself over the years, my insecurities stem from not feeling good enough, feeling used and feeling judged. I never felt that I was enough, I still don’t believe it most the time. I believe I am easily replaced, but that doesn’t mean it’s necessarily a bad thing. Yes, I can be replaced, there is billions of other people on Earth and if someone finds something better either in relationships or friendships and I get left behind it happens. It sucks a lot but not everything is forever. I would be lying if I didn’t feel that some of the relationships, friendships or situationships I have ended up in over my 21 years didn’t feel like I was being used and not actually cared about. I recently worked out that I attract people who feel pretty insecure, I take their pain on as I don’t want anyone to feel that way therefore suffocating myself and they walk away with a new sense of freedom. This is toxic. I deserve better than this. But I don’t give myself better than this. Judgement is inevitable, no one is completely judgement free. I’d love to say I don’t judge anyone but of course I do in my head, I try not to act on my judgements though I know I have slipped up in the past but yeah people judging me is nerve-wracking. 

So, how do I deal with it? I am very good at acting confident and going home and crying to myself. If I am really anxious about something, I usually put it off, I’ll sit and cheer myself up instead. I find keeping a tight schedule, not necessarily sticking to it but at least having one and trying to keep to it does keep me in a much more positive place. I find breathing is so important, and that sound so stupid but learning how to control your breathing and grounding yourself. I tend to focus on one thing around me, this stops me from metaphorically floating away and ending up in a larger panic. I do genuinely advocate for crying. I don’t think there is anything that is genuinely more important than getting a good cry out the way, and depression forts. Depression forts are so important, that’s my happy place. In a load of pillows and blankets with Miranda or the Office (US of course) playing with some fruit and chocolate. Nothing I love more.

My anxiety is worse over my health, that’s actually where it hits the roof. I am a bit of a hypochondriac. I think the worst because then if it’s anything better I feel better. Over my three years at Plymouth University I went to almost every GP there was at least once for an appointment, blood test or ultrasound. I basically lived in the GP or hospital. When I’m ill I sometimes feel so out of control and out of place that not only does my head race, but my confidence drops as I feel like something major is wrong with me. I know it’s not true and I am just overreacting but even so I can’t help feeling that way. I know it is annoying to people around me, and I know it is very dramatic to be as cautious as I am, but I’ve left things before and the consequences were difficult. 

I am a woman with a lot of control of her life. I know what I want to do, maybe not specific jobs but at least the field. I know where I want to be, and I know how to get there. My health stops me. I want to be a mum, but I am infertile, the chances are minimal and that hurts me. I want to exercise and lose weight, my PCOS stops me, my chest is too big to exercise comfortably. My health stops me from living quite literally my best life. If my health didn’t get in the way so much maybe my anxiety wouldn’t be as hurtful as it is but I truly can’t help it. 

This is a bit different than where I was expecting this post to go. I’ve rewrote this so many times I forgot what the first draft even consisted of. I have more anxieties, but these are the ones most relevant to me currently. I’d just like to point out I do plan on writing about my PCOS and infertility later on but every time I’ve began I’ve ended up crying so that’ll be a while. I am coming back to London on Saturday after a much-needed trip away and my posts will be more regular than forgetting sometimes, I hope that tomorrow I get my act straight and put something up to post Saturday but can’t guarantee. Anyway, I’ll try and do another post on my anxiety another time going into more judgements and opinions of others. Thank you for reading !!!

Things to Live For


I had quite a few messages after my last post from people apologising for stuff and honestly that was not my intent and I truly do not want or need any apologies from anyone. This blog is not my way of bashing anyone, it is truly just a way of speaking out about my experience and making a positive out of something which was and is such a negative part about my life. I couldn’t help but feel anxious that some people felt I was in-directing them when that was never my goal. So once again, I do apologise to anyone who felt guilty or any negative feelings after the last post, I didn’t mean it like that, and I mostly write expecting it not to be read so its mad seeing the viewers figures.

I also want to address something, I was going to do a post today about Generation Z and the power we hold through social factors in regard to racism, homophobia, anti-Semitism and feminism. I actually spent all day writing that and I was almost at the end when my mother shared some concerns; whilst I do actively read, donate and share as much information as possible I am not a voice to listen to. I do not have personal experiences (apart from being a woman, and even then I am at privilege being white), and though I do believe one of the most important parts about being an ally is sharing and not just partaking in the cause as it is the ‘trend’ but because you truly care about equality throughout; I do not believe my opinion is truly needed at this moment of time. I would love to sit and write a piece on looking at it from my perspective but all in due time, right now is about taking a step back and listening to personal experiences of those. ACTIVELY listening, ACTIVELY reading and ACTIVELY sharing. Black people, Jewish people, Muslim’s, Yemeni People, Transgender people ARE NOT A TREND. They need equality. WE SHOULD ACTIVELY BE TRYING TO GET THEM THAT. (I know that there is more going on in the world and I am trying to better myself by keeping more up to date in world news from outlets other than the UK media as I know how biased they are, I suggest you do too)

Now onto today’s post; after I wrote my letter to 16-year-old me I actually felt so relieved. I don’t think I realised how the last five years had impacted me, like I knew it was hard but the list of things I’d change just kept coming to me. I’ve been seeing a lot of ‘Things to Live For’ jokes and trends on Tiktok and Twitter and I thought I’d share my list that kept me going and continues to keep me going.

  • Children. I don’t know if I’ll ever have my own biological children, but I will love them no matter what.
  • Wedding. I was going to ignore this one, but I know that young me would be slapping me right now, I’ve always envisioned the perfect wedding. I know what type of dress I want; I know what I want. But I also am happily single, it’s not tragic or sad or anything like that. I like being single, so if I don’t get married then I don’t. I am content with that. 
  • Career. I’ve had so many different ideas over the years ranging from hairdresser to lawyer and even to this date I have no idea what I am going to end up doing. I know I want to work with kids, preferably in a youth work or adoptive situation but at the rate my brain works in three months I might have changed my mind. 
  • Charity. I’ve always wanted my own charity in relation to mental health. I know that this is a main life goal of mine and for a very long time this was probably the only thing keeping me going. I want to be able to spread positivity through mental health and I wasn’t going to be able to do that from six feet under. 
  • Pets. Having grown up surrounded by cats, I still have 4 currently and I love them to bits, I’ve always wanted a little dog, so I definitely am holding out to having my own little chihuahua or pug.
  • Moving away. I’ve lived in London my whole life (minus university), it has too many bad memories. I need a fresh start from my trauma, and if moving up north is the only way for that to happen then that’s where I’m off to.  
  • Short-Hair. I always vocally said I’d never cut my hair short having seen horrific photos from being young, this is actually probably one of the only things on this list I’ve already done. Christmas Eve 2019 I left my house telling my family I was going for a trim and came back seven inches lighter. I am growing it back out now, but I’ll never say never again. 
  • Nails. This is probably one of my sillier things to live for, anyone who knows me knows I am OBSESSED with fake nails. I want to have got every colour possible. I’m quite a basic boring person and I mainly get pink’s or red’s, but I want to be more adventurous with my nails.
  • Travelling. I’ve been lucky enough to travel to some truly incredible places at just the age of twenty-one and I think it’s because of that I just want to explore more. Problem is I am a massive snob, especially about hygiene (anyone who knows me knows I constantly have UTI’s from refusing to go to public bathrooms) so until I have a lot of money, I don’t see me travelling that far to be honest. 
  • New Years. For my 21st birthday I was lucky enough with a group of my friends to go to Berlin for New Years. Sitting there counting down to midnight I remember thinking this will be the best year of my life, imagine entering a year in your favourite European city surrounded by friends knowing your 21stbirthday is coming up. Since then I’ve just worked out that New Years is usually so miserable as I end up at home asleep by 10pm, I want to keep visiting places for New Year’s outside of London. Keep the magic alive for longer.
  • Money. For a lot of people (cough my sister cough) money is the number one goal. I wouldn’t even put it in my top 10, obviously I want to be comfortable in life and I don’t want to sit stressing about money but the whole money buys happiness thing isn’t true. I want a life where I am happy no matter what.
  • Friendship. To all my friends, my ex-friends, my future ex-friends I wish them nothing but the best. I’ve been lucky enough to grow up alongside some of the most amazing women and men, and truly they are going to do such incredible things. I wish happiness, resilience and love to EVERYONE who has taken a step alongside me in life. I remember you all, I may be losing my memory, but I remember you all. 
  • Change. I want to live in a world where everyone is equal. I want to live in a world where mental health is normalized and not stigmatized. I want to live in a world where I am not cat-called every time I leave the house. I want to live in a world which is ran by my generation and has the strength and courage of my generation.
  • Cody Simpson. I want to meet Cody Simpson. Enough said. I want to hug Cody Simpson. I want to cry about meeting Cody Simpson.
  • One Direction. I want one direction to come back. Please. PRETTY PLEASE.
  • Parents. I want to live in a world where I can help support my parents, they put me through education, and they continue to support me massively. I want to be able to treat them; they truly deserve it. 
  • Education. I want my PhD. I want to be a doctorate. 
  • Resilience. I want to continue to strengthen myself, I want to continue to be happy and I want to be able to bounce back from whatever the future has for me. 
  • Social Media. I want to be able to see a time where social media isn’t so competitive. Where women don’t drag women, and everyone lives happy lives not caring about how many likes it receives. I also want to quit social media, I’m terrified of being out of the loop, but it negatively affects me, and I want it gone from my life. Someday I’ll be strong enough to get rid of it. 

I think that’s all of my main things to be honest. None of my goals consist of restriction or change to my character or self, because I don’t need to change. The personality I have now is resilient and passionate, a woman who has seen and been through her fair share of trauma but continues to fight all negativity. Be true to yourself. You only get one you, if there is life after death it is probably not as yourself. Manifest your future, shoot your shot and spread happiness. If there is one thing, I wish for everyone it is true happiness. I hope you all receive it one day. 

Promise I’ll plan my next post more, sorry!! Byeeee

Also the following post is a non-guilt tripping list of things to live for, it is probably the most impressive list I’ve seen and I truly am grateful I came across this tweet as I think about it quite often. If you need something to keep you going, read through.

My Depression Journey


I have been really struggling to write a blog post on anxiety recently, I begin writing and end up in a state of panic which ruins the rest of my day. I didn’t realise how much speaking about this type of stuff would trigger my memory and my ‘flight’ reflex. I have a tendency to run away from my problems, I don’t like facing reality and would rather push my feelings far down than begin to work through them. 

I first got diagnosed with depression when I was 12 years old, and as I said in an earlier post, I didn’t know what depression was and therefore ignored the diagnosis. I’ve always felt negative about myself; I was bullied growing up. The word bullying got so desensitized from the constant ‘anti-bullying’ campaigns the school would put on to make it look to parents that they knew what was going on in our lives when they had no idea, it lost all meaning. Most of my bad memories from high school are fuelled by these bullies, now I look back on it and I know that those people did it as they were insecure. Insecurity is a dangerous game, it makes us act in truly disgusting ways, but I can’t help but feel sorry for those who bullied me as they never won. 

There was a girl, I remember her name so vividly, but she never went to my school. She was a friend of someone who I was friends with, she was the first bully I almost lost to. I was young, I acted confident, but I would cry constantly, I didn’t have many friends especially not at school and I was really struggling with finding myself. This girl didn’t know me, but I was a threat to her, she was jealous of my friendship and she truly did act out of spite. If she remembers me, I’m sure her memories of me are just as negative as mine are of her. She was the first person who told me to kill myself. I was fourteen. That phrase ‘sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me’; that phrase is truly bullsh*t. Words almost ended my life and I know others where it did. I genuinely believe I would’ve preferred someone to throw a stick and a stone at me than everything I heard about myself.

Some people reading this will not realize how much their words impacted me. I heard every single joke about my surname, I heard every single joke about my forehead (it is large, got to give you that I guess), I heard every comment on how ugly I was, on how stupid I was, how I would never find someone, etc. I spent years hating myself, picking myself up on every small mistake I would make as I was scared it’d be noticed, and I would be made fun for it. I spent so many years wanting to disappear, I actually wrote my letters to my family and friends. I’m so grateful they never had to find them or read them. 

I worked hard with my depression, I started finding my safe spaces and my happy places. I realised that swimming positively impacted me, I met so many great people through swimming and though I don’t speak to really any of them now I honestly don’t think I would’ve made it this far had it not been for them. So grateful. I started going to concerts, my parents will probably note this phase as the worst phase they watched me go through. I was ADDICTED to concerts, the thrill of it, the excitement, it was everything to me. My first concert was my favourite artist ever, Cody Simpson, I was 14 and it’s definitely in the top ten nights of my life. I had no worries, I was happy. After that all of my money went to gigs, my parents actually didn’t know where I was most the time though I’m sure they sort of knew I was lying about where I was. I made so many incredible friends, they really got me through the darkest stage. 

I got made fun of a lot for being ‘obsessed’ with these singers that didn’t know who I was. I really didn’t care. That was my safe space, if it wasn’t for Cody Simpson, I never would’ve become a ‘fangirl’ and I don’t think I’d actually be around right now. The community I became a part of truly saved me, I thought I was a lost cause. I hope that one day I will finally meet Cody and though I’m sure my anxiety will stop me I will get the chance to tell him that he saved me. My depression was bad, but music was the only thing that kept me going, I was addicted to the serotonin I would get from music.

I first supposedly ‘recovered’ from depression when I was 13. I didn’t really care. I thought that was the end of the word; I was 15 when three of my friends (from different fanbases) took their lives. I spiralled and then came the second diagnosis. Then came the second bout of depression, around this time was the most suicidal I’ve ever been. I failed mocks and started acting up in school because I had given up with myself. I didn’t actually think I would make it to results day. I had given up with wanting the best for myself. 

I was 17 when I got told I was ‘recovered’ again, I didn’t believe that it was true but with the diagnosis of my bipolar disorder it made sense that I always felt depressed even when I wasn’t diagnosed as depressed. The word ‘recovered’ lost its meaning. I was never going to recover from it, I could only hope that I would learn to live with it. 

Sure enough, the depression came back. I was 19. I gave up fighting it, I let into it and let it eat me alive. I physically spoke out about how the re-diagnosis meant nothing because I didn’t have it in me to fight it again. So, I didn’t. I am still depressed; I will probably always be depressed. But I am also happy, I have made it so far. I’m sure I will get told I’m recovered again, and I am sure that I will celebrate despite knowing it’ll come back. Life isn’t about the fight though; it took me years to understand that. My life so far has been such a rocky journey, apart from the deaths in my life there is nothing that I would change. I never gave up, no matter what happened, no matter what life through at me I never gave up.

My depression journey is not simple. Sometimes it eats me, and I can’t do anything. I sit and watch Parks and Recreation, Brooklyn Nine Nine or Miranda for the ten thousandth time; sometimes I can go weeks without a low point but other times I can’t go a day without it being low. I believe there’s a reason why I am still alive, there is something I am meant to do before I can die. I look forward to that, and maybe one day I can be free from my depression but if not then I’ll cope. I am not a depression story; I am a twenty-one-year-old graduate woman with so many amazing qualities. I am more than my depression and I know that.

Debunking University: Is it really the best years of your life?


Before I get into this topic, I just want to say that I am so incredibly grateful for the support this blog is getting. I never ever expected to have so many views so early on, or even ever, and to know that the audience is wider than just in the UK where most the people I know are is incredible.

Now onto the topic, I’d just like to first of all say this is my opinion. I can’t comment on other people’s experiences because I’m my own person but what I can say is my opinion is definitely shared by a lot of students I have met and spoke to. No one ever told me prior to university how it would affect me, or even what university consisted of; as far as I was aware PRIOR TO JOINING university was about the nightlife and the work would be easier. That’s not true. It couldn’t be any more from the truth.

I always wanted to use university as a fresh start, how I saw it was I deserved a fresh start after everything I got put through during school. I was not a good student and receiving my unconditional from Plymouth University was a sign to me, it was finally my shot to move out and on from the past. I had people I knew down in Plymouth already and did ask about the night out scene, I got told it was very rave-y and most the clubs were very drug-fuelled. I don’t do drugs, never have and never will so finding that out terrified me. I knew I’d never be peer-pressured into anything as I am strongly anti-drugs (for myself) but I still didn’t want to risk feeling outcasted before I even got to university. My best advice is don’t just look up what is the best university for your course but look at the city and find out if you will be comfortable there for three years.

I was never a clever person, as I always say my sister has the ‘book smarts’ and I have the ‘life smarts’. I was made for living and I have a lot of common sense, sorry Cayley you really don’t have any. Therefore, choosing a university based on grades or league tables wasn’t even a way of thinking; I applied for five universities which with my predicted grades I could not get into. I received 3 offers and 2 unconditionals off a personal statement which I didn’t write by myself; I truly believe I got into university on a fluke, but I took that and turned it into fate. I was terrified, my school never did Sociology, so I actually had no prior knowledge of the topic. I turned up and I immediately knew I was going to have to work my a** off to compete with the other students. 

Choosing a course was very difficult for me, I knew I wanted to be a psychiatrist and that I didn’t want to go to university. I told my head of sixth form this and he told me to go for Sociology, I didn’t realise that for the exact job I wanted I was doing the wrong degree. It took me a year and 2 months to find out that I was doing the wrong degree, I was broken. But I carried on, I looked at other career routes that would be possible and tried to ignore the fact that my dream job had just been ripped from me. I know that I should’ve done the research myself, I do know it is partly my fault, but I also know I wouldn’t have gone to university had I not been told this was the only way into that job. Please if you read just one thing about my blog, DO YOUR RESEARCH. You do not want to regret it down the line, it’s heart-breaking. 

Lectures. Go to your lectures. I am such a hypocrite but trust me when it got close to the deadlines, I regretted it. I used to not go if my friends weren’t going too, as I would feel too anxious to sit alone, trust me I regret that so bad. I wish I’d done more to help my degree, but I genuinely didn’t take it that seriously. I think I got too hooked up on the fact I was away from home that I forgot about the education part of why I was away from home; that and my extensive list of health problems over the course of university which left me hiding inside a lot. 

Nightlife. Before university I was a huge lightweight, one double vodka lemonade was usually enough for me to be tipsy and I generally avoided clubbing as I was not keen on being in a room with a bunch of sweaty people. University changed that; in my three years I can count the amount of times I missed a night out I was invited to on one hand. I learnt that to enjoy clubbing you need to have a good group around you, all of my friends at university had such good vibes that clubbing was just so much fun. I should really advocate that drinking yourself to oblivion doesn’t solve anything and can be very regretful, but at the same time that would be very hypocritical of me. Just be safe with whatever you do. Also, you don’t need to get drunk every time you get out, I’ve got so many memories of good nights out where I’ve had two drinks maximum. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say some of my funniest night out memories come from being quite intoxicated, once again just be safe and watch your drinks (there are some really vile people out there who will spike you and it’s so scary please watch out).

They don’t lie when they say you meet your best friends at university. They don’t lie when they say you work out who your true friends are when you go to university. I moved 4 hours away from home and I kept in constant contact with my friends, I was doing weekly check-in’s with majority of them making sure things were definitely good. When I got re-diagnosed with depression, I stopped calling people and I noticed people stopped speaking to me, rarely would I get a message first especially not one asking how I was doing. I realised I had very little true friends and cut off my one-sided friendships, that was hard especially at a time where I felt so lonely and down. I met some amazing people at university and though I don’t expect I will stay friends with them all there are a few who I hope to keep forever. 

The people you meet in freshers rarely end up being your friends 4 weeks down the line, your flatmates don’t always work out but if you are lucky you end up meeting your best friends and making the most incredible memories. Moving so far away from home it wasn’t as simple as if I was feeling lonely, I could go home or visit my mates; they lived pretty far away from me and same with my family. Luckily, I met some incredible people but not everyone gets that lucky. The best advice I could give regarding this is go to a university away from home, get that freedom but don’t make it impossible for you to get home. If things go downhill you will need to get home, I can’t even imagine how much money I spent on last minute train journeys. I luckily could afford it but not everyone is in that position. 

So, all in all, university was the best years of my life but looking at my life that statement doesn’t mean much. I entered university anxious and I left still insecure but so confident; I have the most amazing friends out there and I know for a fact that I cannot shot alcohol. University was the worst years of my life too, I battled with numerous health problems, physio for my knee, two relatives’ deaths, a friend’s death, re-diagnosis of depression and some other things which are very much hidden away. I wouldn’t be the woman I am without these experiences; I wouldn’t be the woman I am if I hadn’t spent countless nights crying to myself or drowning my trauma with vodka (trust me IT IS NOT A GOOD IDEA). 

To anyone beginning university, honestly, I wish you the best. I hope you have all the positives of university with none of the negatives. Girls always travel in packs, don’t leave a vulnerable girl behind EVER; watch your drinks also. Unfortunately, disgusting people breed around students whether it be students or not and they take any chance they can. Don’t feel pressurized into anything; drugs, alcohol, sex or anything. If you don’t want to do it. Say no. Get out of the situation. I know it’s hard but look after yourselves. The world isn’t as rosy as schools tend to portray it as when pushing students towards university. 

Anyway, hopefully my next post ends a little bit lighter than this did. I’m trying to keep to a schedule of posting but I’m currently quite busy sorting other things in my life out so I’m trying my best to get things out every other day but can’t promise anything.


ALSO HAPPY ONE DIRECTION 10 YEAR ANNIVERSARY. I’ve been in my Harry Styles top all day listening to them basically hoping for some content which is yet to come. 14 year old me is quaking at the suspense.

Letter to a 16-Year-Old Me

Dear 16-year-old me,

You make it to 21. This letter actually comes from 21-year-old you. You are alive at 21. 

Some advice for coping with what happens over the next five years:

  1. Live in the moment. Collect the memories. Don’t spend so much time held up in the past or looking at the future. You miss so much. 
  2. Keep swimming. It was the only sport that kept you in shape, it was stupid to quit. You will regret that when you try on a dress for your 21st and you have a breakdown in the changing rooms over your ugly body.
  3. Stop checking in on people who don’t check in on you. It’ll hurt at the start but trust me it’s for the best. Half the people who claimed to be your friends ARE NOT YOUR FRIENDS. 
  4. Trust your mum when she says someone is bad for you. It may feel like she is controlling you, but she is right. Not everyone wants the best for you, some people want to see you crash and burn. 
  5. Don’t sl*g off plastic surgery. You will end up begging your parents to let you get a breast reduction. You will look like a hypocrite. 
  6. Don’t put off medical things. If you need to go to the doctors, go to the doctors. Don’t listen to your sister who says you go too often. Things do go downhill. Way too quickly. 
  7. Spend as much time as possible with your family, your friends come and go but your family is always there. You will regret it down the line.
  8. Stop putting expectations on your birthday. You will spend every birthday crying to yourself, it becomes a tradition. Get used to it. 
  9. Study more. School grades didn’t matter as much but if you’d worked harder maybe your degree would’ve been a higher classification. Yes. You go to university.
  10. Go on as many nights out as humanly possible. You will miss them when the clubs shut. Hangovers are temporary but memories are forever. PS: don’t drink vodka lemonades in the club, you don’t like the taste of the lemonade and it leads to a lot of throwing up OR JÄGERBOMBS.
  11. You will lose your memory; it’ll suck but it’s a symptom of the depression. Take as many photos as possible, write down the good days. You will thank yourself for that in the future. 
  12.  Get your heart broken once. You officially have feelings. It hurts, it really sucked. But you handle it well and you bounce back. 
  13. Go to as many concerts as you can, they are still your favourite thing 5 years later. They are still your safe space. They are still your happy place. I hope that never changes. PS: Don’t drink before Post Malone. You will not remember a concert you paid £150 for. The guy wasn’t worth not remembering the concert, he wasn’t worth the hangover. 
  14. You might never have kids. Prepare for that. 
  15. Boys will try to use you for your chest. You are more than two balls of fat on your chest, ignore them. Don’t take it to heart, boys are stupid. 
  16. Speak out about your diagnosis. It’s scary but it was worth it. 
  17. Don’t feel pressured into losing your virginity, it happens when you are 19. People will assume and say nasty things, ignore it. Virginity is a stupid concept anyway, nothing changes. 
  18. Accept that you cannot control the future. The sooner you accept that the less you will cry. Hold out hope though, it’ll be worth it. 
  19. Don’t miss your train. You will sit and cry outside the train station and then have to do arguably what is worse than a walk of shame back into your flat kitchen. 
  20. Take coronavirus seriously. You will look like an idiot later on.
  21. Answer the phone to her. Nothing is more important than that phone call. It was not just a catch-up. It was not your fault. 

But even without these tips you are okay. You are 21 (and a half) and you are a university graduate. You are about to begin your postgraduate degree, you are happy. Life is rocky for the following five years, and I expect it will be all the way through for ten years at least. But you are happy. That’s all you ever wanted. You got it. You have your low moments, but you are happy. I promise you it got better. 

This post was a bit different but within all the advice I could give myself, I hope other people find comfort in realising you cannot rewrite your past. I accept and understand that. I know how I would change it; I have twenty-one ways in how I’d change the last five years. But I wouldn’t be the person I am today if it wasn’t for all of those things. They shaped the woman I am right now. I couldn’t be more grateful for that if I tried, and trust me I have tried.