All The Single Ladies

Halfway through this year I found myself single. Not through my own choice I might add, but I was suddenly thrust into a bubble of uncertainty and complete confusion about what to do with myself now a whole part of my life had been shaken up. And it took a while before I began to settle into single life and remember why being single is actually quite brilliant. 

So often being single is seen as a negative thing which I’m learning couldn’t be further from the truth. I’ve not spent much of my adult life single; I was in a relationship until I was 18 and then started a new relationship when I was 21 so I haven’t really experienced being single as a ‘proper’ adult. (And by ‘proper adult’ I mean 21+) At first it felt like a burden and a horrible cross to bear, who wanted to be single and face the prospect of never finding someone ever again? Not me, that was for sure. However since then my view has changed dramatically and I couldn’t be less bothered by my singleton status.

I thought I’d compile a list of all the great things about being single to show that it isn’t all doom and gloom:

- You don’t have to be responsible for anyone but yourself
- You can do what you want, when you want
- You don’t have to worry about someone else’s wellbeing all the time
- You remember that you’re actually a pretty awesome human being on your own
- You can flirt to your hearts content
- You can starfish in bed all night long
- You don’t have to worry about arguments or disagreements over petty things
- You can listen to what you want and watch what you want without criticism/annoying someone else
- You fall in love with yourself all over again
- You don’t have to rely on someone else to please you in the bedroom
- You don’t have to spend money on someone else
- You can be the best version of you

I guess some of these make relationships sound like a negative thing and that couldn’t be further from the truth, but there is this assumption that relationships are the best thing in the world and if you don’t find the right person and marry them then you’ve somehow failed. WRONG. As long as YOU are happy then you can be whoever you want to be and be with whoever you want to be with, if that’s anyone at all.

Right now I feel such a freedom and happiness being single and I can’t imagine getting into a relationship again any time soon (never say never etc) as right now I feel so balanced and happy with how my life is. I’m enjoying having the freedom to find myself again and fall in love with myself both emotionally and physically. It’s so important to get to a stage where you love yourself because if you don’t then you run the risk of getting into a relationship where you accept less than you deserve and you should never sell yourself short when it comes to love. Everyone deserves someone who loves every single atom of them; who loves them with a ferocity that can’t be matched and would do anything for them.

I’m excited to move forward with my life as a single woman and I can’t wait to see what the rest of my life brings! 

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Feel The Fear

Feel the fear and do it anyway.

It’s one of those quotes that you hear time and time again (especially as an anxious person) and after a while it just becomes words that you hear rather than a sentence with real meaning. 

The words began to drift over my head, so used was I to feeling the fear and not doing it anyway because: fear.

I did something a bit crazy on Friday. 

I went for a job interview. 

The first job interview I’ve had in over a year. 

The first job interview I’ve had since I had a minor blip in my mental health (read: yearlong battle with agoraphobia.)

I did it.

I actually did something that scared me shitless.

And I survived.

I’d love the job, it’s perfect for me in an environment that I feel safe and calm in. (A university bookshop. Books, bookish people, BLISS.)  But if I don’t get the job then I won’t be sad for long because in having the interview I’ve reminded myself that I am strong, brave, independent, knowledgeable, polite and friendly; in fact for the first time in a long time I finally felt genuine, smile inducing, tummy dancing pride in myself. And that’s rare. But it’s beautiful.

There’s nothing like feeling proud of yourself and not needing to seek validation for that feeling from anyone but yourself. I walked out of the interview with the hugest grin on my face, an extra bounce in my step and a happy heart. Not only had I crushed my anxiety, I’d also managed to have a good interview. (well, good in my opinion anyway!) And I finally had ammunition to fire at the negative voices in my head; they couldn’t get a word in!

I felt the fear and I did it anyway.

Don’t get me wrong…I was shaking with fear as I was eating my breakfast on Friday morning. I kept thinking I needed a wee on the journey there. I had a dry mouth as I approached reception to inform them I had arrived. But then as soon as I was greeted by a bookseller to show me around, something happened inside of me and I just felt this almost serene calm wash over me. I could do this. I had the knowledge, the passion, the experience for the job. I could only do my very best; that’s all anyone can ever do. And even though I was still a little anxious (a normal, understandable level of nerves before an interview) I wasn’t overwhelmed by the feelings that often plague me. For once I felt in control of my anxiety.

And I think the main reason why so many anxious people can't feel the fear and do it anyway is because we have such low levels of self-confidence and self-esteem. We underestimate our ability to cope, we’re told by people around us that we need to stop letting the anxiety control our lives and we feel like we’re drowning in a sea of failure. And it’s hard, so hard, to get out of that pattern of thinking. To take a step outside of the comfort zone and think, ‘I’m going to try this.’

It’s never easy to put yourself into a position where there’s a possibility of failure.

But when you do, it can be so rewarding.

I’m by no means ‘cured’ but I am on the road to recovery. I am slowly widening my boundaries again, taking time to remind myself that I can do whatever I put my mind to, telling myself that I need to live my best life and not let stupid adrenaline and annoying thoughts get in the way.

And I’m doing it for me. 

No one else. 

Not my family or my friends. 

For me.

If you suffer with anxiety and you feel like you can’t feel the fear and do it anyway, trust me, you can.

Build slowly up to it, take small steps, reward yourself every time you succeed. Keep moving forward as slowly as you need to. Remind yourself that YOU are in control. Think of the life you want to lead and keep striving for it. Remind yourself you’re brave and strong and amazing. Don’t let fear steal your life from you.

BE BRAVE.

Feel the fear and do it anyway. 

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5 Things No One Told Me About Growing Up As A Woman

I don’t know about you but the past ten or so years of my life have been a lesson in how to be female. I’ve had to learn everything about my own body, what certain parts of it are for, how they work, why they do weird stuff sometimes and what I have to do to make sure I keep it in tip top shape.

But aside from a few teenage magazines and a self-help book for teenage girls that didn’t have enough about how to ‘do sex’ in it for my fifteen year old self, I was left pretty clueless. Of course I could have asked my mum who was always on hand to explain everything and anything without embarrassment. But ewww, who wants to talk to their mum about pubes and stuff?!

So here are my top five tips compiled from my own failings as a teenage girl/young woman in the hope that they might help you!

 Shave your legs in the direction of hair growth

*small clap* yes, it might be obvious, I know. But for teenage me when faced with the prospect of shaving my legs, I went a bit off-piste. Instead of doing it gradually and in some sort of order, I just started shaving the hair off in all different directions. Thankfully my shins were shaved in the right direction but my calves are a whole other story. I shaved them SIDEWAYS. Yes, sideways. WTF WAS I THINKING. So now all the hair on the backs of my legs grows sideways.

Fucking brilliant. So, don’t do this if you’re new to shaving. Just take your time and be sensible!

Don’t shave your pubes I’M WARNING YOU.

NO. DO NOT GO NEAR THEM WITH A RAZOR FOR GODS SAKE.  I used to shave ALL of my pubes off with a razor and, well, there’s never been pain/discomfort/ingrown hairs like it. One of my teenage boyfriends used to love it being completely bare. THANKS PORN. So I would routinely shave it all off only to have to endure the pain of it growing back and a few nicks on the ol’ labia every now and then. WHY DO WE DO THIS TO OURSELVES?! As I’ve got older I’ve realised that actually I think pubic hair is sexy. It denotes adulthood and stops you looking like a pre-pubescent teen. I mean, tidy it up all you want, get an electric shaver and go to town on that ol’ bush but don’t use a razor and then cry cos it’s shit. Make sure you use the right sort of tools for the job and, never ever ever ever ever shave your pubes for a man. THEY’RE NOT WORTH IT. A man should love you pubes or no pubes and should never pressure you into getting rid of them. (Plus pubes are there for a reason! But if you like the bare look then you rock it gurl.)

Your boobs will never ever look the same

Another thank you must go to porn and lads mags and allllll those pictures of women with perfectly symmetrical breasts and pert nipples. LOL. That is not real. I imagine 99% of those women have had boob jobs cos gurl, your boobs are never gon be the same. I have one bigger than the other and that’s normal and it’s more than natural. Don’t be made to feel inadequate because you are plagued with images of tanned, perky boobs. Your boobs are unique to you and they’re all the more amazing for it. (Also let’s just remember boobs are actually for feeding a baby, not for men to perve over but, well, life.)

Good luck with your periods

Basically you’re screwed. I’m 22 and I still have trouble dealing with the waterfall that escapes me every month.  If I can go through a period without staining a) my pants b) my clothes and c) my bedsheets then I feel like I’ve won the fucking lottery. I don’t know if it’s just a thing I’m bad at? Or if it’s a universal woman thing but seriously, I still can’t deal with my periods without some sort of disaster each month. I mean it probably doesn’t help I was on and then off and then on again and then off again the contraceptive pill but my body still isn’t great at the whole bleedin’ with grace and dignity thing. And, if you are a woman whose got her shit together and can do periods then I BOW TO YOU, YOU GODDESS.

Wash your face

I sound like your mother. But seriously, wash your face. This is gross to admit and I actually hate myself for it but I only really started properly washing my face in the past year or so. Before I used to just rub a wet flannel over my cheeks quickly and be like ‘yep, done it’ when in fact that was a shit excuse for washing my face. Now I use proper face wash, scrubs, face masks, toners, moisturisers etc. My skin still isn’t amazing as I wish it was but oh god I don’t even want to imagine not washing my face now. It makes me feel so physically uncomfortable if I don’t wash my face morning and night!! Keep your face squeaky clean and you'll have fewer spots, fewer blocked pores and you'll look even more gorgeous than normal! 

I mean, I hope some of that is helpful and I’ve not just shamed myself on the internet (probs have) but I really hope that it will help girls and women to know that we all struggle a bit sometimes with the whole ‘being a woman’ thing so don’t feel like you’re the only one who can’t do it all perfectly!  

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Pink Power

This week has been a shit week but has reminded me how much Elle Woods is my hero.

She is one badass woman who gives every other woman the chance to feel empowered when really all they want to do is curl up in a ball and cry.

I thought today I’d share my favourite Elle Woods quotes from the movies and musical that might give you a little boost when you’re feeling down or give you some extra motivation when you need it most. I must admit I am a HUGE Legally Blonde fan. I know the movie off by heart and I may have seen the musical twice…

When representing her Delta Nu alumni client, Brooke, Elle brings up a very important fact about exercise:

I just don't think that Brooke could've done this. Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people just don't shoot their husbands, they just don't.

Lesson learnt here: exercise makes you happy AND can also keep those feelings of hate at bay.

***

When a scheming saleswoman tries to sell Elle a dodgy dress for her engagement dinner:

It's impossible to use a half-loop stitching on low-viscosity rayon. It would snag the fabric. And you didn't just get it in - I saw it in the June Vogue a year ago. So if you're trying to sell it to me for full price, you've picked the wrong girl.

Lesson learnt here: don’t take shit from no one. Stand up for yourself and trust your instinct and own intelligence.

***

Being true to yourself never goes out of style.

PREACH DAT GURL.

***

When Warner realises the error of his ways and comes grovelling back to Elle:

Though I dreamed of this day long ago,

Now my answer is thank you, but no.

Look, I've barely begun; I'm hardly through...

I was living in ignorant bliss,

'Til I learned I could be more than this! (Gestures to her hair.)

And, you know, in a way I owe it all to you!

I though losing your love was a blow I could never withstand...

Look how far I have come without anyone holding my hand.

I had to find my way.

Lesson learnt here: always remember that things will get better; even if it hurts at first, you will find that in time everything falls into place again and you can learn to live a new way. Heartbreak doesn’t have to equal misery.

Basically if you’re feeling shit, get a duvet, a bar of chocolate and watch Elle Woods kick some ass. Cos it’ll make you feel a million times better. Fact. 

I'm off to do exactly that. 

BEND AND FUCKING SNAP. 

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I LOVE MY ANTIDEPRESSANTS.

I love my antidepressants.

*cue the medication haters*

You’re addicted.

You need to learn to cope without medication.

You’re doing long term harm.

WHATEVS.

I need my antidepressants to live. I need them to help me get from day to day without crawling into a ball, crying continuously for no reason and wondering if I should kill myself.

Woo yeah! Depression is soooooo fun.

I first started taking antidepressants in my first year of university because I was struggling with anxiety and depression. My university GP put me on 10mg of Citalopram and from that moment on I’ve taken a Citalopram tablet every day. (Ok, that’s a bit of a lie but I’ll come back to that.)

So I’ve basically been on antidepressants for five years. Which, in anyone’s book is a long time. When I think about it I suddenly go “me? No way…it can’t have been five years.”

But it has and I honestly don’t think I would still be here, five years later, if I didn’t take them.

They’re not fun to take. They make me lethargic, sometimes I find my memory can be a little slow, I am very sensitive to loud noises and bright lights and I guess they numb me a little; they stop me feeling such intense emotions.

And I’m cool with that. I still feel happiness, sadness, fear, anger, love, hate etc. but just re-calibrated to my new state of being.

In 2014 my life was fucking awesome. I had a job working in a bookshop (the dream), I had a boyfriend, I was earning money, I was independent, I could go out and do things and well, life was ace. So I went to my GP and said “mate, I’m well happy. Can I come off of the antidepressants because I don’t need them anymore?” He agreed and so I slowly, carefully and with advice and monitoring reduced my dose over a period of a few months until I was down to nothing. And then the shit hit the fan. Big time.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA LOL YOU TWAT.” Is basically what my brain said to me. “You honestly think you can get through life without feeding me antidepressants? I need them.”

My depression and anxiety reappeared at the speed of light. I quit my job, became frightened of leaving the house and became completely dependent on my family and boyfriend. Not really the sort of life you envisage for yourself at 22.

I rushed back to the doctor and begged him to put me back on the medication because it was clear I needed it. I’d foolishly thought that my happiness and independence was all down to me being bad ass but it turns out it was also aided by the medication keeping all them chemicals in ma brain working as they should.

The doctor agreed that the best thing to do was to dose me up again and stay on them for as long as I needed. I think I’ll need them for life. And I don’t mind. They help me to live, to feel emotion that I otherwise would be too numb to feel. They allow me to wake up every day and live a life (ok, maybe not the life that I should be living, but a life nonetheless) and they give me the chance to feel like myself.

I still have a long way to go until I’ve built up my independence again and am less fearful of leaving the house but a lot of that is down to psychological factors now rather than physiological factors.

I wish people weren’t so quick to judge those who find medication a huge help. I know that antidepressants aren’t for everyone and I don’t judge those who choose not to take them. It’s their personal choice, just like it’s my choice to take them. And, as far as I’m currently aware, there are no trials or studies that have proven there is anything wrong with taking antidepressants over a long period of time. Plus even if they did, I don’t think I’d stop taking them.

They allow me to live my best life and whilst it might not be a life of daring adventures and fearless pursuits, it’s a life that I don’t think I would still be living had I not been able to take them.

Is it weird that I save all my boxes after they've been finished? 

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Turn It Off

During the middle of March my internet stopped working. One minute I was surfing the web and the next I was filled with fear as the google chrome dinosaur told me he couldn’t display the page.

The whole family couldn’t connect to the internet either so we did the whole trouble shooting thing; unplugging leads, checking phone connections were OK, blowing dust off of things…alas the internet still wouldn’t work.

At this point I was a little nervous. I need the internet.

The next day, with the internet still not working, dad took one for the team and spent an age on the phone to someone in America who was following a script and was about as much help as a chocolate tea pot. She told him to plug different things in and take other things out and she ran some tests which all came back as ‘inconclusive’. Hurrah. Then she dropped the bombshell…an engineer couldn’t come out and fix it until the FIRST OF APRIL. TWO WHOLE WEEKS AWAY.

Like, fo real?

To cut a long story short, we switched broadband providers but still had to wait over two weeks until the swapping was complete.

So, my friends, what would you do if you didn’t have internet for two weeks?

Cry?

Yeah, I nearly did. See, the internet is my life. The first thing I do when I wake up is check social media, the last thing I do before I go to bed is check social media. I talk to friends on social media. I catch up with TV online. I order the weekly food shopping online. I download books online. I use the online library. MY WHOLE LIFE REVOLVES AROUND BEING ONLINE.

I felt like I was suddenly disconnected from everything that I needed in my life. I had a small amount of phone data left and so rationed it to be able to check social media a few times a day, because, god forbid, I couldn’t miss out on anything.

But as the days started to move along, I realised that I have a seriously unhealthy relationship with the internet. It’s like my backbone. I would find my hands instinctively reaching for my phone to check Twitter or thinking ‘let me just google that’ and I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything online.

Instead I had to find other ways to fill the never-ending days. It hit home, during those two and a bit weeks, how much of my day I waste online. I suddenly had all of the time in the world and it was a daunting experience.

I started sitting at my desk, listening to the Wicked soundtrack and colouring in a children’s garden colouring book. I started watching TV when it was on, instead of on catch up. I spent time with my parents. I did a lot of gardening. I read. I wrote a lot of my novel. It was actually a very productive time for me and as the days passed, my fear of missing out reduced and I began to find life without the internet was actually pretty cool.

There was no stress and pressure to tweet all day long, there wasn’t the need to keep up with my blogging, I didn’t have to take lots of photos for Instagram. I didn’t care that I was behind on my YouTube subscriptions. I felt so unburdened and SO relaxed. Instead of checking social media when I woke up, I looked out the window instead, I watched my fish swim around their tank, I read a bit of a book.

And I realised that the internet has taken over my life. I am a self-confessed internet addict. If I’m not online I get really intense FOMO, if I’m doing something I have the urge to tweet about it, when I’m thinking about things I write blog posts in my head. My whole world revolves around the internet. And, sadly, I don’t think I’m the only one.

When we got the text to say ‘your internet is working again’ I was excited beyond belief but as we followed the instructions and plugged things in and turned things on, I actually didn’t want to have the internet back. I wanted to prolong my internet free time because it had been such a calming and relaxing experience.

I finally got back online and wasted no time catching up on all the things I’d missed out on. It was an almost euphoric feeling, being able to sit with my laptop and explore the whole of the internet again.

 

But, like an addict who gets a high, I very quickly came crashing back down to earth and felt suddenly really really really under pressure again. And it was horrible. Suddenly I needed to think of witty tweets again, I needed to update my blog, I had to keep up with everything that was going on and to be brutally honest, I didn’t give a fuck about most of it. Being away from the internet made me realise what is actually important in my life. And social media, blogging and YouTube and all that stuff…well, it isn’t important.

What is important is having ‘you’ time, spending time with family, relaxing, not feeling under pressure to update people constantly on your life. It’s important to spend time not looking at a screen, to actually talk to people in real life, to spend time connecting to the real world around you.

And for a long time I haven’t been doing enough of that.

But I hope that will change. I am going to start spending less time on the internet, less time blogging less time trying to perfectly craft a tweet. Less time caring what people on social media think of me, less time watching videos of people that present unrealistic versions of real life.

I’m going to focus on real things that make me happy. Like my writing and reading and spending time with people I love and doing yoga and colouring in and just being more in the moment. Rather than wasting hours sitting on the internet wondering why I feel so depressed.

Are you willing to take the challenge? Could you last two weeks without the internet? Do you think you’d find it as hard as I did?

For me it was a blessing in disguise. It gave me a much needed reality check and I can’t tell you how much I wish everyone could go through it too. I want everyone to reassess their relationship with the internet and realise that it’s not the be all and end all.

Go on. Switch it off. I dare you... 

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Just Pull Yourself Together!

“At least it’s not cancer.”

“So many people have it worse than you.”

“Just pull yourself together; we all have to deal with stuff like this.”

“Have you ever just, you know, tried thinking positively?”

“Mind over matter.”

“What have you got to be depressed about?”

These are just a handful of things that have been said to me and, I imagine, many other people throughout their struggle with mental illness. But why? Why do people regard mental health as a completely separate entity to physical health? Why do people think that it’s just a case of thinking happy thoughts? You wouldn’t say to someone with cancer… “oh, it’s nothing, just think happy thoughts!” Just like you shouldn’t say to someone in the midst of depression, “hey, all you need to do is think happy things!” OMG WHY DIDN’T I THINK OF THAT BEFORE?!?!?!? THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR CURING ME -.-

Mental health is EXACTLY the same as physical health in the sense we ALL have it. Just like physical health, some people have better mental health than others. There are those that are physically healthy and then those that are briefly ill or who have long term physical problems; there are those that are mentally healthy, those that are briefly mentally ill or who have long term mental health problems. It’s the same concept. It should be treated in society in the SAME WAY.

I like to think that throughout our lives we live on a sliding scale for both our mental and physical health. Sometimes we’ll be feeling amazing and we’ll have great health and other times we may not feel so great and be lower down the scale. We are never at one fixed point and that’s OK. Just like it’s OK to have a cold, or break your leg or need some antibiotics for an ear infection. Just like it’s OK to go through depression, or have a psychotic episode or have an intense period of anxiety. It’s OK to slide up and down that scale. (I tried to visually explain this but I fail at art. Soz.)

But, sadly, this is where the similarities end.

Physical health is treated far differently from mental health. If you fall over and break your leg and need some time off work, your boss is likely to pat you on the shoulder and hope you feel better soon. Yet if you were to suffer from a bout of depression and need some time off of work, the same boss may tap you on the shoulder and suggest you’re not committed to the job and are letting the team down.

If you can’t attend someone’s birthday party because you’ve got a nasty chest infection, you’ll be wished well and told you’ll be missed. Yet if you miss the same birthday party because you’re just feeling too anxious, you’ll be told you’re a flake and you let people down.

If you’re having a really tough day and you just really can’t face doing more than staying in bed people may tell you to “get a grip” and to stop being so dramatic because “at least it’s not cancer”.

No, it’s not cancer and I’m glad that it’s not but that doesn’t make my suffering or what I’m going through any less valid or difficult than someone with cancer.

There are many, many times I’ve wished that I could be physically ill instead. Because if I was then people would treat me SO much differently to how they do now. I wouldn’t be criticised at work for not being “smiley enough” during a busy period. I wouldn’t be told to just put “mind over matter” or to “grow some balls”. And I probably wouldn’t be told that I’m letting people down because “I’m not living my life to the full” or doing what a “normal twenty-two year old does”. If I were lying in a bed with cancer that would be the last thought on anyone’s mind. Yet when I lie in bed with depression and have suicidal thoughts, people just think I’m being over-dramatic and selfish?

Go figure.

Some people argue that mental health is easier to go through because you have the power to change it and make yourself better unlike those who may be physically ill and don’t have that ability. And, yes, in some cases that is true. But in the vast majority of cases of physical illness you could say the same too. Got a cold? Take some tablets and wrap up warm. Diabetes? Implement a diet plan and take medication. Broken leg? Put it in a cast and wait until it heals.

So why can’t people with mental illness wait until it heals?

Why are we forced into taking immediate action and made to feel guilty if it looks like we’re not improving? You wouldn’t say to someone recovering from a heart attack, “wow, you had that heart attack like three weeks ago, you still look so rough. You should be better by now.”

WHY WHY WHY DO WE MAKE PEOPLE WHO GO THROUGH MENTAL ILLNESS FEEL REALLY FUCKING GUILTY FOR NOT BEING ILLER?

I am sick of trying to explain what anxiety and depression is like. It’s more than just feeling sad or being a bit scared. It’s completely engulfing and crushing and at times you feel like you’re drowning with no way out. It’s like being in a never ending, dark room and not knowing where the door is to find your way out. You just have to slowly and methodically inch along, searching every single patch of wall until you find that handle to open the door. It’s not about being happy or putting mind over matter. It’s not about comparing my plight with someone else’s.

Just because mental illness can’t be physically seen, it doesn’t mean it’s not excruciatingly painful and real. Yes, you can see a broken leg; yes, you can tell if someone has a bad cough, yes, someone undergoing chemotherapy may lose their hair but just because there are visual symptoms they seem to be cared about more.

Thankfully more and more people are becoming understanding about mental health and are less prejudice about it but there is still a LONG way to go. Sadly one of the reasons for this is that mental illnesses are used as adjectives;

People used the word depressed or depressing to explain something a bit sad which then belittles the experience that people with real depression go through. The same with OCD; it’s not about liking things looking neat and being tidy but how often do you hear people say “I’m so OCD about that.” NO YOU’RE FUCKING NOT. Just like when something scary happens and you have a normal bodily reaction to it you did not just have “OMG A PANIC ATTACK.”

Sigh. Can you tell it makes me a bit annoyed?!

I just wish I could live in a world where it wasn’t a constant competition to see who was worse off or who was suffering more. In comparison to some third world countries we all obviously have a better life. But it doesn’t mean that at the very moment when we’re suffering most that it’s not as bad as or less valid than any other suffering anyone has ever been through.

Treat everyone with care and compassion. One day you may be the one who needs the care and compassion most. 

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You're Amazing. Just The Way You Are.

I can’t remember the last time I felt beautiful. I can’t remember the last time someone told me I look beautiful. But I can remember the last time I felt ugly (about two minutes ago standing in front of the bathroom mirror naked). And I can remember the last time someone told me there was something wrong with my body.

In fact when I think back over my life so far, there are very, very few times in my life when I’ve felt beautiful. Even as a teenager I felt ugly and disgusting compared to everyone around me.  I vividly remember having to try and find a dress for our sixth form leaver’s ball… It was a chance for all the girls to dress up in floating gowns and for the boys to don a suit. However the dress searching resulted in me cowering in the corner of my then boyfriend’s bedroom, hiding from the mirror in a flood of tears, crying out that I felt ugly and that I’d look so awful compared to everyone else there. Luckily he was gentlemanly enough to hug me and tell me that I was beautiful but even on the night of the ball itself I felt ashamed and just wanted to cover myself in a huge blanket so no one could see me. I had honestly never felt so ashamed of how I looked in my life.

I guess my body loathing started at secondary school where I imagine it probably starts for most people. I was called ugly; I was teased about my bushy, frizzy hair and thick eyebrows. I felt incredibly self-aware when I was getting changed for P.E that I didn’t have big boobs encased in lacy bras and I certainly didn’t have a thong on (it was cotton knickers all the way for me.) I felt ashamed that I had a thin trail of hair down my stomach because everyone else had such smooth, hairless tummies. I was made to feel bad by ‘friends’ for not wearing make-up. And, one of these ‘friends’ once said, particularly loudly in front of my crush at the time, ‘don’t you think it’s gross when girls have hair on their tummies?’ To which I flamed like a tomato and as soon as I got home that evening shaved it all off. And don’t get me started on that time I realised I was supposed to shave my pubic hair. For some bizarre reason I thought it was natural and was supposed to be there but duhhhhh you have to shave it all off because…you just do?

So, really, I was sort of handed a whole barrage of insults on a plate that my mind quickly digested and started shouting at me every time I looked in the mirror.

‘You’re fat’

‘You’re ugly’

‘You’ll never be beautiful’

‘You’re too hairy for a woman’

‘No one will ever look at your body and think they’ve got lucky’

And for the last ten years I’ve been in a vicious cycle of self-loathing. Even now when I look in the mirror I feel my heart sink and my stomach turn over uncomfortably. Why do I look so vile? Why have I got such large thighs? Why do I have stretch marks and cellulite on my legs and hips? WHY AM I SO HAIRY? Why do my boobs look so bored of life? Why have I got a tummy that sticks out and rolls over when I sit down?

The simple answer is because I do. Because this is the body I have; the body I will always have.

Yes, my unhealthy relationship with food has certainly contributed to the fact I’m bigger than I want to be and weigh more than I want to (but that’s an entirely different topic.) And yes my lack of physical exercise every day definitely contributes to the flab and dullness of my body. But I just wish I could stop hating it.

In the past when I’ve come up with epic plans to lose weight, eat healthier and get back to a more comfortable and ‘happy’ size I’ve always ended up thinking ‘what’s the point?’ I’ll still have the same face, the same hairiness, the same stretch marks, the same everything… it might all just look a little bit smaller that’s all. I still won’t be beautiful.

For a long time my fear and hatred of myself was due to my perception of how other people would see my body, namely men. I felt that no man would like my body because it looks nothing like a woman apparently should look like. It’s not tanned, my boobs don’t touch my chin, it all wobbles, it’s hairy etc. And so many times I tried to drill it into my head that any man who didn’t appreciate my body wasn’t worthy of my time. Beauty is more than just looks…right? But why do I still feel compelled to see my body through other people’s eyes? Why is it when I look at photographs of myself I just see a dumpy potato and criticise everything I hate about it instead of looking at what I like about it? I used to take selfies quite often; it was a thing that made me feel better if I could just get the right filter and lighting. I haven’t dared take a photo of myself in at least half a year…I don’t even like looking at my face in the mirror. Let alone on a camera. All the photos I use for social media are old; some even from 2014…

I keep trying to ask myself WHY I feel such hatred towards my own body. Is it because I genuinely hate it? No, I don’t think so. Is it because society and those around me tell me I should hate it? Yes. My family tell me I’m a bit on the ‘big side’ and my mum loves to make a joke about the size of my thighs or bum. Society tells me I should look a certain way and be a certain size; because that’s what’s attractive and what men want.

I hate that I hate myself. I wish I could look in the mirror and think damnnnn gurl, you looking fine. But I don’t. Instead I say fuck. Look at my double chin, my spots, my horrible hair, my bushy eyebrows, oh god, you can see a fat roll under my jumper etc. etc. I verbally abuse myself on a daily basis. I tell myself I’m not beautiful. I stand in front of the mirror, sigh and say, you so ugly. And then walk away. That’s not normal or healthy.

I don’t have people constantly telling me I’m beautiful or gorgeous or they think I look lovely. And to be honest, even if they did tell me that I’d probably just think they were saying it to make me feel better rather than actually meaning it. See? Vicious. Circle.

I fear so much for the younger generations of women. If I ever have a daughter I will do all I can to make her feel like she’s beautiful every day of her life. That’s she’s perfect just the way she is and she doesn’t need to rely on anyone else to love herself. I wish every woman felt that way. I wish every young girl felt that way. I wish there wasn’t such a divide between what people think is normal and what is actually normal. Women come in all shapes and sizes. Some thin, some fat, some short, some tall and that’s OK. It’s OK to be the way you are. It’s OK to look in the mirror and like what you see. It’s OK to think you’re looking hawwwwt.

It’s OK to love yourself.

I wish I could go back in time and hug that sixteen year old me as she sat crying on her boyfriend’s bedroom floor. I wish I could tell her to wear whatever damn dress made her feel beautiful and screw what anyone else thought. I wish I could go back and speak to thirteen year old me and tell her that she doesn’t need to shave anything off and that cotton knickers kick ass and, most importantly, that real friends aren’t critical of your body. I wish I could go back to all the nights that I’ve cried in front of the mirror and just give myself a big hug.

I hope as I grow older I can learn to love my body…I want to look in the mirror one day and think ‘you are so beautiful.’

And I want that for every woman. I want every woman to look in the mirror every single day and realise just how gorgeous they are. We are all beautiful. Whatever our shape, whatever our size, whatever our height, our skin colour, our ethnicity, our religion, our age: We. Are. Beautiful. 

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What Makes Me, Me - Laura

When Jess asked me to write a piece about ‘What Makes Me, Me’ I hit a bit of a wall. What does make me, me? For so long I’ve labelled myself and presented myself as Laura: the one with anxiety and depression. Instead of letting my mental health problems be a small part of me, I chose to let them define me. Whenever I met someone new I’d try and slip in a “oh by the way I might have a panic attack so don’t panic if I panic” kinda thing. Instead of saying, “Hi, I’m Laura and I have lots of other identifying features aside from my scrambled brain.”

There are so many other things that make me the person that I am. So I sat down and took my anxiety right out of the equation to see what I had left; what else I was made up of. I thought I’d make a list instead of things that make me Laura. 

Here’s what makes me, me:

•         My insatiable appetite for books
•         My insatiable appetite for pizza
•          My addiction to cats, cat videos and the idea that one day I can have LOTS of cats
•         My love for writing about and reading books, in fact anything to do with books.
•          My aspirations to be a published author. (I once met with a publisher who liked my writing…WHATTTTT)
•          My insistence that pyjama bottoms are acceptable every day clothing. (only indoors)
•           My perpetual need to sleep
•           My hatred of driving (much to my boyfriend’s annoyance)
•           My love of Devon (I’ve only been there twice but want to be there foreverrrr)
•           My lack of travel (I’ve never left the UK or been on a plane. Booo)
•           My lasagne making skillz
•           My love/hate relationship with the word ‘bae’. Boyfriend and I started using it in jest and now it has become the third wheel in our relationship
•           My love for the word pulchritudinous because it sounds like the complete opposite of what it is
•           My love of crisps (salt and vinegar Tyrell’s if you’re offering, please)
•           My overuse of exclamation marks, the word ‘just’ and commas
•           My love for baby things. i.e kittens, puppies and fluffy ducklings
•           My addiction to stationery and notebooks
•           My complete disregard for fashion
•           My complete disregard for makeup that isn’t eyeliner, eyeshadow or mascara.
•           My lack of interest in TV unless it’s funny or dark and murdery
•           My love of musicals

And now I’ve got bored thinking about me. (I think I have some sort of brain filter that says NOPE too much self-analysis.) But, there we go; a short-ish list of things that make me, me. Excluding my anxiety and depression and agoraphobia, I’m pretty normal…right? Everyone loves cats and pizza…? (They do, even if they don’t admit it.)

N.B. My anxiety and depression also make me the person that I am today. If I hadn’t spent nearly ten years in the grip of perpetual anxiety and waves of depression then I wouldn’t be as strong and determined as I am today. It’s so easy for people looking in from the outside to say ‘hah, you haven’t left the house in months, you’re not living your life to the full’ but I know that sometimes just getting out of bed in the morning is an achievement. Managing to engage in conversation with my family without spiraling into a panic is an achievement. Heck, even going into the back garden to put some bird seed out is an achievement. Yet I feel bad about this. I feel like I shouldn’t see these things as achievements because no one else does…no one else pats me on the back and says ‘well done for making it through another day.’

But I’m still here, I’m still standing, I’m still trying to find a way to get better and without these years of suffering, of tears, of panic attacks…I wouldn’t have the determination and strength to carry on. Everything listed above makes me happy – they’re the things that compel me to get up every morning; they’re the things that make me feel like a normal person. They give me hope I can one day be the person who walks down the street without crying and running back home.

My anxiety, depression and agoraphobia do contribute to the person that I am, they influence the way I behave and the way I see the world but they’re not the only things I want to use to define myself anymore. I want to feel unashamed to say to people ‘nope, sorry, not today, I don’t feel up to it’ without feeling horrendous guilt and wondering if anyone will ever like me again. I want people to understand that depression isn’t just ‘feeling sad’ and anxiety isn’t just ‘being a bit nervous.’ I want people to acknowledge that something they find a doddle is actually really, really hard for me. I want society as a whole to be more understanding of mental health and how we can all support each other. I want people to ask me how I feel instead of just pretending that my mental health is fine. And, most of all I want people to stop passing judgement on my life and telling me how I should feel and what I should do.

I think I completely went off point there. (Oh, that’s another thing – I like tangents.)

So, that’s me. That’s what makes me the person that I am today: anxiety, depression, cats and pizza.

And I’m cool with that. 

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