Exams and My Low Self-Confidence

I have extremely bad self-confidence. This is something that I rarely like to talk about but I feel like I should do more. Cut a very long story short, I was bullied quite severely in Year 7 because I had a pixie cut (yes, I am aware that seems like a petty thing to be bullied over, but it happened), and because I was one of the shyest in my year at the time. I was emotionally and physically bullied to the point that when someone compliments me, I won't believe them. 

I've recently started my GCSE exams (GCSE stands for General Certificate of Secondary Education if you didn't know), and my first was Drama - one of the subjects which I want to continue studying for A Level. For this exam, I have to put on a thirty-minute play that fits into a theme that the exam board sets, and perform it to an external examiner who comes in and marks me on the spot (I am in a group for this exam). In short, I was given the role of the main character which meant that I had this very long monologue to learn. I was fairly nervous about this monologue, I didn't think that I was good enough to perform it, nor even be the character that I was assigned - so most of the time in rehearsals I would ask if we could skip the scene where my monologue came in. 

As my Drama exam got closer, I started getting more nervous over my monologue - whilst I was the main character, I had the least amount of lines meaning that the majority of my marks will come from this monologue. To study A Level Drama at my choice of Sixth Form, I need at least a B+ or an A, and I convinced myself that the way I was performing my lines was at a D, maybe an E grade. I started to get worked up over this monologue because I knew I wasn't good enough to be this character, and my marks were going to be non-existant. 

Around three days before the exam, my group, and the others, did a whole dress rehearsal to parents and teachers, and this was one of the first times I performed my monologue in front of an audience. I was terrified. Thankfully, I had a chance to run through my monologue with my teacher, and whilst she told me that I would get a fantastic grade from the way that I've performed it, I couldn't see how she could think that. In the dress rehearsal, we got to the part where my monologue came in, and I was shaking. I said my lines as best I could, and walked off stage, concluding the performance. From what people have told me, my monologue was great and I should be proud of myself. I would stand there as people were saying this to me, and I would think only negative thoughts about myself because I knew that there had to be some way of performing it better. 

The day of the exam I was a mess, I was shaking, nervous, and I couldn't think straight. I was trying to think of ways to improve myself from the time I got to school, to the time of my exam, which was thankfully in the afternoon. It got to the point that I had a panic attack - and it took twenty minutes for both my Drama teachers and my friends to calm me down. They were all trying to say to me that the lowest grade I might get would be an A, but I sat there, shaking my head, as I tried to explain to them that my acting is terrible. I was fine with my basic lines, as they were mainly one word, but it was the monologue that was stressing me out the most. 

Then the exam came, and my group was the first to perform. 

As we were all performing, I was trying my hardest to be this character. I thought that I was doing pretty well, and when I looked over to the examiner, they were scrawling down notes, and I hope that they were all nothing but positive. 

I went backstage right before my monologue and I had to give myself a pep-talk (yes, this may have been a silly thing to do, but this was my last chance to get the grade that I wanted). I walked out on stage, delivered my lines, and waited for the lights to go down. And, as soon as I said my last line, I could hear crying from the back of the Drama Studio. The moment that the examiner left the room to mark my group, my entire class came running up to me, some of them were in tears. This, of course, made me and my group cry too. 

All of this made me realise something: I should believe what people say to me more. The way my class acted after I performed my monologue gave me some sort of wake-up call - my Drama teacher was right after all, I did perform my monologue well. 

I guess I had to write this because I needed to get this off of my chest. And even though I have to take about twenty more exams, I feel just that little more confident that I can smash these exams and get the grades I want in August. 

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A Rambly Ramble

So, I did some things.

(Sorry for not posting two weeks ago btw, I was having an internet break because the internet can start to take over your life and it’s bad so yeah)

That interview I told you about? Didn’t get the job. DAGNABBIT. And, here’s the worst part: I CAME SECOND. I would have got the job if one person didn’t have more experience than me. Sighhhhh

But I have had another interview and I went to Primark by myself and I went the post office and library by myself and I walked 40 minutes home by myself and I AM STILL ALIVE. Cool eh?

Turns out going outside doesn’t always = death.

Don’t get me wrong, going outside still = PANIC in my mind. But it’s turning into manageable panic. And I’m starting to remember what it’s like to be in love with life again. Instead of walking down the street and panicking that the sky is going to fall down, YES THIS IS A LEGIT FEAR OK THANKS, I can walk down the road and listen to the birds and smile at other people walking past.

And I think this is what I always forget: I will never ever get rid of my anxiety.

Never. I have to live with it. BUT what I can do is learn to live with it and manage it in a way that makes ‘normal’ things more doable for someone like me. Going to the post office wasn’t massively straight forward, I had to turn around halfway there, calm myself down and then walk back again. 

BUT I DID IT. And I didn’t give up like I would have before.

Where am I going with this post? I’m not really sure.

I guess recently I’ve just realised that my anxiety doesn’t have to take over my life. It’s so hard when you’re in this dark pit of anxiety to think that there’s ever going to be a day when you won’t panic and even though I’ve managed to deal with it before…it doesn’t make it any easier to deal with it again.

But I’m doing it for ME. And I’m actually starting to like myself again. Whenever I achieve something I want to high five myself in the face SO HARD and celebrate how kick ass I am. Because mate, I posted a parcel all by myself today and that’s awesome. AND I had to wait in a queue for eight minutes (YES I COUNTED THE MINUTES ON THE CLOCK) and I hate queues and I hate people being behind me in queues and I feel trapped and the ceiling was low BUT I DID IT OK. 

I don’t think there’s ever going to be a day when I can say I AM NOT AN ANXIOUS PERSON. But, I feel like in the near future there will be a day when I can say I AM AN ANXIOUS PERSON BUT I AM ALSO A FUCTIONING HUMAN BEING WHO CAN DO LIFE STUFF.

And that’s gonna be an awesome day.

I might have a job, I might not. (Don’t ask – long story) but basically the job I was interviewed for might not actually be a job they can offer at the moment so it’s a case of ‘this is not a no, it’s a don’t know and we’ll let you know ASAP.'

SO CROSS YO FINGERS FOR ME.

Maaaaan I can’t wait to earn money again and feel like I have some ounce of worth. And it may be the little things but if I have a job then I can buy CHRISTMAS PYJAMAS AND CHRISTMAS BEDDING AND DO CHRISTMAS SHOPPING AND YAY. The thought of getting into a snuggly bed with new Christmas sheets and Christmas pyjamas and a big snowy candle and fairy lights and a book makes me want to die with happiness.

If I can do that by the end of this year then basically YES TO 2016.

The moral of this post: you a bad ass bitch and you can do whatever you want. Don’t let anyone or anything say differently. 

Sorry, I just love cats. 

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Bloody Periods

Let’s talk periods.

I’m SO bored of seeing adverts on TV for sanitary towels or tampons where women are galloping around with short white skirts on, having the time of their lives whilst on their period. Don’t get me wrong…I’m sure there are some goddesses out there who manage it but seriously, WTF. When I have my period the last thing I want to do is be moving around with any vigour plus wearing something that could easily show up period stains is a HUGE no no in my book.

I mean, maybe I just fail badly at periods as I’ve touched on before, but really? REALLY?

I wanted to share with you some of my period fails with you today so that you can feel less alone when you may experience a slight period malfunction. Perhaps these stories are TMI and perhaps they’re not but what they are is REAL. They’re things that happened to me, that I had to style out awkwardly and they still haunt me today because learning about periods is not the same as learning about YOUR periods. Until your body gets into the swing of things you will SO not be prepared and I found that out the hard way…

I can still vaguely remember when I first got my period. I was a weird teenager who was desperately hoping my period would arrive. I was so jealous of all the girls around me who were proudly whispering about tampons and I felt so immature and unwomanly compared to them. LOL I TAKE IT BACK I DON’T NEED PERIODS AT ALL. It was after school and I was part of the trampoline club which met once a week to bounce around for the fun of it. I went to the toilet just before the club started and saw a small spot of blood in my pants. I panicked straight away wondering what it was before thinking ‘OH MY GOD, IS THIS MY PERIOD?! YAY YAY YAY!’ I stuffed some toilet roll in my pants and told one of my friends that I thought my period had started. Luckily she had a spare 50p or £1(I can’t remember which) to shove into the slot of the sanitary towel dispenser hanging on the toilet wall and that was my first ever experience of sanitary towels…that first time I put one on it felt like a nappy and I was CONVINCED that everyone would know I was wearing it. 

I got home that evening from the trampoline club and for some reason, even though my mum was really open and honest about everything from periods to sex, I was too scared to tell her. So I text her instead (lol) and said ‘I think my period has started.’ She came upstairs to my bedroom and smiled and we had a chat and that was my womanliness activated.

However it wasn’t plain sailing from there. I had very heavy periods; I think this was mainly due to my genes…my mum told me her periods were very heavy so I guess that might be why?! I do remember going to the doctor about them at one point but he didn’t seem worried so I guess that was a good thing…! But I wasn’t really prepared for HOW heavy they would be.

The most mortifying and probably TMI experience with my period was in a music lesson at school. I was wearing a pink Bodyform sanitary towel which is sort of the low-medium absorption and at the time I thought this was plenty sufficient to keep my flow in check. OH GURL. I remember throughout the lesson feeling like my pants were soaking wet and really, really heavy. Almost like there was a wet flannel resting in my pants. I thought nothing of it…I’d only really just started having periods so I assumed that was what it was meant to feel like. Oh how wrong my poor young self was. 

By the end of the lesson I knew something had gone catastrophically wrong. I could smell my own period; I could feel wetness between my thighs. Something was very very wrong. I stood up at the end of the lesson and holy hell, the chair was a STATE. I had pretty much leaked all over the chair. So I rapidly sat back down and panicked thinking what the fuck am I supposed to do?! I waited until everyone else was walking out of the door before I stood up and made a quick run for the door. The music teacher did say ‘Is everything alright Laura?’ at which point I should have said ‘I’M SO SORRY I JUST HAD A PERIOD ALL OVER ONE OF YOUR CHAIRS.’ But instead I ran to the toilet and assessed the damage in my pants. Oh wow, it was literally like an explosion. I’d never seen anything like it before and I was so embarrassed. Bearing in mind at this point my whole class were already on the way to our history lesson in the other building. I was sitting in a toilet cubicle pressing toilet paper into my trousers to soak up all the rogue blood. I wasn’t brave enough to go to the school office and ask a woman to HELP ME SORT MY PERIOD OUT because I thought they’d laugh me out of there. So I did the best I could. I stuck a new sanitary towel to my bloody pants and hot footed it to my next lesson where I spent the entire time sat on my blazer so as not to get the chair covered in my period. Luckily it was the last lesson before the end of the day so as soon as the bell rang I flung my bag over my shoulder and lengthened the strap so that it was long enough to cover my bum and speedily walked home to deal with the disaster that had happened.

Oh god, I cringe so much when I think about just running away from that chair but I just couldn’t face telling someone that I couldn’t period.

To be fair, most of my other embarrassing period stories revolve around chairs at school and a far too low absorbency sanitary towel. There was one time when I was in a biology lesson at the end of the day and I REALLY needed to change my pad but I knew that if I stood up then people would see me leaking so instead I waited until the end of the lesson, thinking I could surreptitiously just quickly wipe any leak on the chair up with a tissue. So when the end of the lesson came and we had to stack our lab stools up I panicked thinking OH GOD PEOPLE WILL SEE WHAT I’VE DONE. I quickly jumped up, just as one of the girls in my class looked down at my chair and saw my small leak. I gave her a pleading look to pretend nothing had happened and quickly stacked my stool underneath another one so no one would know it was me. OH THE SHAME.

I wasn’t ready to start using tampons at this point. I’d never had sex, nothing had ever been IN my vagina before so I wasn’t ready to stick something up there…and even now I much prefer using sanitary towels. (Although if I’m out/working/not lazing around the house I tend to use tampons for the fact they’re less likely to leave me with a massively stained crotch. YAY FOR TAMPONS)

It took me a good few years until I really got into the swing of my own body and learned how to cope with my periods. For the past few years I’ve been on and off contraception so I haven’t really had a proper period in a long time. Which sort of sucks because even though I hate periods, there’s a small part of me that loves the feeling of awesome womanliness that surrounds me when I’m on my period. Just me?

Also, over the years I’ve managed to create the best period survival kit that I carry around with me ALL THE TIME just in case. It's a large pencil case/make up bag that I put the following things into:

• -          Six tampons: two regular, two super, two super- duper- fuck-me-you-have-a-heavy-period
• -          Four towels: one regular with wings, two super plus with wings, one night time mega huge towel
• -          A handful of nappy sacks (perfect for when you’re in a bathroom with no sanitary bin)
• -          A spare pair of pants just in case things get SERIOUSLY bad down there
• -          A few pantyliners
• -          And some tissues just in case the toilet you’re using doesn’t have any

Ever since creating my little period kit I never ever ended up having a panic moment where I thought OH GOD MY PERIOD HAS STARTED AND I HAVE NOTHING ON ME. Every single bag I owned had a few towels and tampons stashed into the zip pocket at the back. And every time I went to school or went out, I would put the period bag into my bag so it was always there…just in case. Plus it was always handy when someone was in a panic and needed to borrow a tampon or pad…I had plenty to go around! Plus it didn’t look embarrassing or obvious in my bag…it just looked like a make up bag or pencil case...

Coming full circle, as I mentioned about the adverts, I just want to say that periods don’t have to look like that. Periods can be messy and unpredictable and a bit scary. But that’s OK. We shouldn’t be ashamed to talk about that side of periods. Sure, some women have super light periods and don’t have to worry about white trousers or getting a leakage. But some of us women do and that’s FINE. It’s normal. It’s life. I bet every woman has at least one embarrassing period story to tell. So if you find yourself having a slight problem with your next period YOU ARE NOT ALONE. And if you’ve only just started your periods or are yet to start them…don’t worry. No woman got it right straight away. It’s all about learning how your own body works and going with the flow (lol, soz.)

(Also, don’t be ashamed to talk about periods. It’s just another fucking amazing thing that your body does.) 

P.S ALL THE AMAZING ARTWORK IN THIS POST IS BY GEMMA CORRELL. She is a legend.

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6 Month Anniversary: What Safe Space Has Taught Us

Today marks the 6th month anniversary of Safe Space and boy has time flown! Since starting Safe Space I’ve definitely gone on a journey and changed as a person and so today to celebrate the 6 month mark, the Safe Space team are sharing how being a part of Safe Space has changed them and what we’ve learnt about ourselves along the way.

Jess: I can’t believe that Safe Space is already six months old! I’m so proud of what we’ve achieved in that time and am excited to see what is to come in the next six months. When I first had the idea for this blog, I had a very clear vision in my mind of what I wanted this website to be and I feel very lucky that I’ve been able to work with some wonderful women who have already made that dream a reality.

Since creating Safe Space, I have learnt so much about both blogging and myself. I’ve learned new skills, how to write personal articles and how to manage and organize a team. But what has stuck with me the most is what I have learnt from reading the posts written by my co-bloggers. I’ve learnt about their individual experiences as women, how they grew up, and the things they’ve struggled with in life. As I’ve gotten to know each of them a little better through their posts over time, I have learnt that I am not alone with my thoughts and feelings. Before starting this blog I never could have imagined how many times I would read a post and relate so strongly to what’s been said. Online it’s very easy to only see the highlights of other people's lives, you never get to know what is really going on behind the scenes, you don’t get to see those days of self-doubt and insecurity, nobody wants to document the bad days. I feel very honored that so many women have shared their personal experiences on this blog and I’m proud of the supportive and honest space we have created together that doesn’t shy away from showing the good, the bad and the ugly of growing up as a woman.

I think the most important thing that Safe Space has taught me is that I have a voice. I have thoughts and opinions that mean something and when shared with other people, have the power to change things. Being able to be so open and honest and get such fantastic feedback has given me more confidence in myself and what I have to say. Safe Space has taught me so much in such a short time and I’m looking forward to seeing what else I learn about myself in the future.

Faye: The first thing I feel I should mention on this post is that I almost didn’t join Safe Space. When Jess first advertised looking for bloggers I was unsure if I could commit to it but then Jess finally, somehow, talked me round until I agreed and I am so glad she did because Safe Space is a blog that I love so much. It has taught me so much, I’ve grown in confidence both in person and online, I feel like I’m a much better person now than I was six months ago and while that isn’t all down to this blog, I know that a lot of it is because of this blog.

For example, six months ago I never would have gone out to a restaurant alone and I have now done this three times (thank you Debbie!), I never would have had the guts to come out of the closet (yay!), I never would have had the confidence to start wearing dresses again (thank you Jess!) or to not shave for a long time (thank you Jo!) or to even consider not wearing a bra (thank you Caitlin!). I have learnt so much from all of the amazing women who are a part of the Safe Space team and I feel like I can call them my friends too. They’re all so inspiring and wonderful.

In the last six months, I also believe (correct me if I’m wrong!), my writing has grown stronger as I become more confident of stepping into the limelight and shining it brightly on all of my issues. I feel stronger, prouder, and less alone. So for that, I just want to thank Jess again for creating Safe Space and for helping to convince me to join the team.

Laura: Woweee! Six months?! It feels like yesterday I started as part of the Safe Space Team. But what a lovely six months it has been; the ladies in this team feel like close friends and I love them all so much!

The biggest thing I’ve learnt during my time writing for Safe Space is that you really can’t ever judge a person because you will never know what’s going on behind the scenes in their life. I always like to think I’m very empathetic and try my hardest to be non-judgemental about every facet of my life but sometimes it’s hard. However Safe Space has constantly reminded me that just because people look like they’ve got their shit together, they might actually not have said shit together at all. I’ve been so proud of the stories, experiences and love that has been shared through the 100 posts we’ve managed to write so far! I feel so lucky to know such an inspiring, brave and beautiful team of women and know that even though they’ve been through hell and back, they’re still smiling, still going and willing to share their experiences with others in the hope that it’ll help someone else.

Personally, I’ve found writing a lot of the posts to be a very cathartic experience allowing me to re-live memories or talk about how I’m feeling without censoring myself at all. I’ve always found writing helps me to sort my head out and gives me a chance to explore how I feel and I’ve learnt a lot about myself in the past half a year whilst writing my posts. I feel like Safe Space is a genuinely safe place to talk about things without fear of judgement or ridicule and I am so thankful to Jess for starting up such a great place on the internet!

Long live Safe Space!!

Ray: Over the last 6 months I have written 11 posts for Safe Space and honestly? Sometimes I’m still not sure if I deserve to be be part of this team of amazing women who write so brilliantly and eloquently on such important subjects. I said as much in my first post and the feeling has never entirely gone away.

Blogging for Safe Space has been a painfully cathartic experience at times and I’m not sure if I’m a better person for it...yet. It’s fairly safe for me to say that this year has been a slow slide into the worst period of mental health that I can recall. I spent most of July tearing through books like they were giving me oxygen and finally cracked the tightly-sealed bottle of “shit I don’t talk about to anyone” enough to actually admit that I was feeling like hell to some of the most important people in my life.

I do think that being a part of Safe Space has helped me in that I’ve felt less alone with some of the mess in my head and it’s given me the confidence to open up to other people when before I would have simply bottled up my darker thoughts and feelings so I didn’t bother anyone with them. But I think there’s still quite a way to go for me - hopefully my fellow Safe Spacers will continue to inspire me to take the steps I need to get myself back on more stable ground. Here’s to the next 100 posts.

Debbie: Most of the time I still feel like a Safe Space fraud, as my posts are so far between, and also I don’t feel they are half as amazing as the other girls, but I am so grateful to be part of the team. One of the things that has surprised me most about the past six months is how much I’ve learnt. Not just factual things such as about feminism or medication, but also personally about my fellow bloggers and those I am lucky enough to call my friends. It has definitely brought me closer to my lovely flatmate Faye, as we have often hashed out Safe Space ideas together and talked about our worries and fears about posts. Every month I still panic about what to write and whether it will be good enough or important enough, but if I am taking away anything from the 6 months of Safe Space it is this: just be brave, in whatever way you feel comfortable with. I’ve witnessed the other girls take so many amazing steps, and I can’t wait to see what comes next!

Jo: I can’t believe six months has gone by already! It feels like we’ve been blogging together for forever, but also feels like it’s flown by!

Safe Space has done so much for me as a writer. I’d had my own writing/lifestyle blog, Jo’s Scribbles, for maybe a little over a year before joining Safe Space, but I had only really started trying to post regularly a month before Jess sent out a request for people to become members of Safe Space. Despite book blogging and studying Journalism at uni, I was full of self-doubt about writing about things that are important to me. “Would anyone care? There are so many people saying these things better than you, why bother? Why would anyone read what you write?” But with Safe Space, I have a set day every two weeks, which got me writing more regularly, and as there are a group of us, the pressure was off me to provide all the interesting content, so it felt like a good idea. But what I wasn’t expecting was finding such good friends in the Safe Space team members; friends who read each other’s posts, friends who give feedback, and friends who are constantly encouraging and complimentary about each other’s posts. And that’s on top of our wonderful readers who genuinely enjoy our posts and say such lovely things. Being a team member of Safe Space has made me so much more confident in my writing, in what I have to say - so much so that not only do I now write about whatever topic I feel I have something to say about here and on my own blog, but I’m now a regular contributor to other online platforms after becoming confident enough to pitch my writing to them.

I’m also more comfortable in sharing my opinion on, how I feel about, or my experience of a topic and confident in my voice. It doesn’t matter if people disagree or if other people have said something similar before, what I have to say is important, and my experiences and thoughts are unique to me. And, sometimes, what I write helps others, makes them think, or inspires them. That’s such a wonderful thing to be able to do for other people, and not something I would have ever imagined I’d be in a position to do. I have come on leaps and bounds since joining Safe Space, and I will be forever grateful to Jess for allowing me to be a part of something so wonderful. Safe Space is such fantastic place that makes others feel less alone - myself included.

And, finally, being a member of Safe Space and reading my fellow team members posts on mental illness partly led to me realising I have one myself and getting the help I need. And I’ve had such wonderful support from my fellow team members. Safe Space has literally changed my life.

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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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Spending Time with Myself

As an introvert, I have always needed time to myself. As much as I love my friends and enjoy socializing, it becomes exhausting after a while and I have to retreat back to my room and have some me time. But when I dropped out of University and moved back in with my parents, I found I almost had too much me time on my hands. I had no job, no friends in the area as they were all living at University, but I still wanted to go to the cinema, go shopping and do all the things I used to. And so I learned to spend time with myself.

Shopping alone wasn’t something I was unfamiliar with – on my way home from school I passed through my town centre and so if I needed anything I would pop into the mall on my way through. But I had never gone out of my way to go shopping alone before this, and I’ve found I rather like it. There’s no rush, you don’t have to get dragged into anywhere you don’t want to go, and you can spend as long as you like browsing the clothes and trying them on.

Eating alone is a bit harder. I still haven’t quite got to eating in a sit down restaurant by myself (although I definitely want to at some point!) but I’ve sat in chains such as Chipotle, Five Guys and Mcdonalds alone many a time and felt more and more comfortable each time I do it. The trick is to have something to occupy yourself with; I usually opt for a book or catching up with notifications on my phone. This year I’ve even gone to the cinema by myself – I’ll admit this is partially because I get free tickets due to my job and there are some films I simply can’t wait for, but I’ve found it so enjoyable! I definitely plan to go again alone before I leave my job next month.

And I’ve even spent days out in London by myself. I’ve just hopped on the tube and seen where it takes me, exploring my city. When I mentioned that I was going to London alone, my dad thought it a bit odd, and I’ve noticed at work when people come to the cinema by themselves they can sometimes be almost embarrassed. And I’m kind of curious about where this stigma against doing things alone has come from. Some of my favourite days from the past year have been my solitary trips to London, perusing various bookshops, wondering around Soho and getting to know my city like never before. I even spent a couple of days last night in New York City by myself, and whilst extremely overwhelming I was thankful I could take the city at my own pace, eat when I wanted to, and miss out on what I wasn’t bothered about.

This isn’t to say that I hate hanging out with my friends or travelling with other people. I understand that it’s not for everyone, but for me it means I don’t have to miss out on anything just because my friends aren’t nearby or I’m too tired to socialize. Sometimes I just need some me time to relax and take things at my own pace, and you know what? Hanging out with myself can be pretty damn awesome.

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I am worthy, I am beautiful, I am talented - and so are you.

I jumped around so many times trying to work out the best topic to talk about today before realising that the reason I didn't want to talk about the thing I originally decided to talk about is because I was downplaying the topic. In my mind it wasn't a worthy enough topic to talk about, which, ironically is more or less what the topic was. So I've decided to stick with my original topic and today I am here to talk to you about how I am incapable of hearing compliments and believing them.

I know we did a post similar to this as a group where our loved ones described us and we responded, you can find that here - but today I just wanted to talk about my experiences with this personally.

Recently it's becomming a more prominent part of my life as I have amazing friends in my life who compliment me on a daily basis. Whether it's saying how beautiful I am, how wonderful, amazing, creative or incredible I am. The words are said to me with heartfelt expressions that I should be able to accept. But often, I hear those words and wonder how could I possibly live up to that expectation? After all, I'm a failure. I'm barely keeping my head above water. I keep forgetting everything. I am a clutz. I'm ugly. I am just doing what I've always done. These are the thoughts that swirl around in my head. They tell me that I don't deserve compliments.

This is why when I get heartfelt compliments, I do one of two things. Sometimes I grin widely and get cocky. "Well, you know, that is because I AM awesome." - Or I get quiet and mumble thank you while trying not to cry. The problem of course, is that I don't think these things about myself even though I know, deep down, I should.

So when someone comes along and says something awful to me, instead of defending myself, I just nod and agree. As an example of this, somone has once told me that organising blog tours isn't difficult, it's just contacting bloggers and making a schedule right? To which I just nodded and agreed without defending the hard work and hours that I put into each and every tour I do. And it is a lot of work. It's finding bloggers, getting the schedules to fit, chasing content, collating information about the book for a media kit, e-mailing all the bloggers with all the information they need, tweeting and facebooking, chasing bloggers who haven't posted, collating more data, creating a graphic or two if that's necessary. It is hard work. It is stressful. It requires a lot of energy and passion. But instead of saying all of that, I just agreed. And I am certain the next time someone says it, I will still just agree.

And I wish that wasn't the way. I wish I had some sense of confidence in myself, and my abilities to defend my work, my personalitiy, my achievements.

Because I wish that of my friends too. I watch them deflect my compliments and it hurts so I can only imagine how it must feel when I do the same thing. I want them to be able to see how much they mean to me, how wonderful and truly brilliant I think they are and for them to truly understand that about themselves and to see it as truth. And if I want that for them, how could I not want that for myself?

I think the problem is that if you accept a compliment head on, you can seem conceited or arrogant. "Oh, YOU think you're amazing and wonderful do you?" and no one really wants to go too far. But I think confidence in yourself and your abilities is different from arrogance but somehow I just need to learn the balance. I need to be able to say to myself that I AM worthy, that I AM beautiful, that I AM talented.

And so I am going to try and say this to myself every day until it sticks. And if you too have issues believing in your self-worth, I would love it if you too did the same thing.

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Not Counting the Calories

A few weeks ago, Laura wrote about how she had begun counting calories as a means of losing weight. I was really interested in this piece as calorie counting has often been employed by me so that I can try and lose weight or at least maintain a healthy weight. However, since the beginning of May, I have neither weighed myself nor actively counted calories.

“I am an eater of numbers. I prefer packaged foods, foods with a bar code, because they make the math simpler in counting calories and that gives me a sense of peace. It’s just an illusion of control, really, but that illusion is everything.” – Melissa Broder

As someone who has very polarised views, as well as being wholehearted and putting my all into everything I commit to, I could probably rightly claim to have an addictive personality. This clearly has its downsides. If I’m trying not to worry about what I’m eating, I might eat too much and put on weight in a short period of time. The biggest problems for me come If I’m intent on losing weight, however. 

I will weigh myself daily and count every calorie that enters my mouth. I become obsessive. I have been in tears if the final meal of the day puts me seven calories over my recommended daily allowance. I will avoid any packaging that shows food that contains a large portion of a particular food group. I will spend ages in front of a supermarket chiller, trying to find the lowest calorie sandwich. If, after all this deliberating, I have still put on weight, I will reduce my intake the next day. My meals, in those moments, have become about numbers instead of nourishment.

I’ve been overweight and in that period of time, I really didn’t like the way I looked. I was desperate to look like I thought I was supposed to, forgetting that at 5 foot 10, I’m unlikely to ever be a size 6. I was appalled at myself and yet, even then, I knew that losing weight wouldn’t change the way I saw myself. Alas, now within the healthy range again, I still dislike what I look like. I’m learning that weight doesn’t equate with happiness.

So what does this mean for me?

 I want to be healthy. This is so that, as Laura said, I reduce the risk of disease later in life and my body works well. I want to be eating a balanced meal, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t have the occasional cake or a tub of pick ‘n’ mix if I feel like it. I want to treat myself respectfully and this means both not overeating, but also not under-eating as well. Food is meant to nourish us and give us the energy to live our lives. I want to know that I have the capability to do what I want to do, without being hindered by myself. I want to be happy because who I am is enough, whether that person fits into a smaller pair of jeans or has a little bit of flesh overhanging.

The more I practise eating in a way that allows me to keep fit and still enjoy food, the easier I hope it will become. I think I will gradually continue to adjust to what works for me in terms of portion sizes and the food I eat, but I don’t want weighing or numerical values to be a part of that. Having my happiness decided on by something as changeable as a digit means my mood and my self-worth are likely to be all over the place and we all know that’s not helpful.

I'm excited to try and find a place where food isn't another addiction for me. I’ll let you know how I get on in the months ahead!

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When You Think You Can't... You Probably Can

I have had a really difficult couple of weeks. I’m coming to the end of two years of therapy and, as someone with tough past experiences of endings, I’ve been dreading it. Then, after my psychologist and I were slowly beginning to put plans into place as to how we would spend our remaining weeks together, my care coordinator announced that she would be leaving. I sobbed and sobbed. This was less because of sadness and more because I didn’t think I could cope with it. I had already told myself that I wouldn’t manage the end of therapy, so doubling what I would have to deal with surely meant catastrophe. But, you know what? I have proved myself wrong.

The endings I’m so anxious about are still to come, so I can’t predict exactly what I will be like when they happen. However, what I have been able to do is put strategies in place that allow me to cope in the moment. In spite of initially thinking that the future was enough to tip me over the edge, I told myself that I would cope. I honestly believe that, in life, we generally have a say over whether we cope or not, as well as what we use to do so. That’s not to say that we manage without the help of others or that we don’t become recluses for a time when we’re wracked with anxiety. But in my choice to cope, because the alternative was a downward spiral that would mean hospital admission or worse, I took back some of the control that I felt I had lost. I couldn’t stop the NHS from limiting my therapy to two years or my care coordinator getting a new job. I can choose to live my life though and to make decisions that make that life worth living. I can tell myself that I can turn my future into what I want it to be, whether that be having a career or a family or going travelling.

Two days after I was told of my care coordinator’s imminent departure, I was due to meet fellow Safe Space writers, Jo and Faye. I haven’t been in a social environment where I would be meeting and chatting to people in two years. Anxiety has grown so big in my mind that I had convinced myself that I would never again be able to meet people: they wouldn’t like me, I would say something stupid, it would just be too much for me. Perhaps it’s because I felt I had nothing to lose after the week I was having, but I went to London and met Jo and Faye and… it was brilliant! I was without a doubt that meeting people was never something I was going to manage and, once again, I was proved wrong.

If the last fortnight has taught me anything, it is that even when I am utterly convinced that something is impossible, that it’s not something I can survive and that I’m not resilient enough to cope with it, life so often has other ideas. There is very little that I can’t do. I won’t be Queen of England, nor will I be an international athlete. But when life hits as hard as it can and often in unexpected ways, I find a strength that I didn’t know I had and I become creative in discovering ways of coping.

This isn’t a post for me to big myself up and say, “Look what I can do.” It’s to say, “Look at what we all can do.” I have put off so many opportunities because of the messages of fear I was telling myself. Perhaps you’re doing the same – avoiding meeting people who could become great friends, not going to an interview because you decide you would never be good enough for the job, dreading the future because it looks so much bigger than your limited emotional resources. But I truly believe that you can.

Sometimes we need the support of others, whether it be friends or therapists; sometimes we need to take time to cry because a relationship is ending; sometimes we may feel terrified when we try something new. But that’s okay. It doesn’t matter how we get there. It just matters that we get there in the end. So as I dare myself to take greater leaps of faith and to trust in my own capacity to cope, I wonder if you will join me. What do you tell yourself you can’t do? Maybe it’s time to see that you can.

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Reclaiming Myself - One Strand at a Time

I have a weird relationship with my hair. For the last eight years I’ve had the same hairstyle keeping it long and alternating between blonde and red in colour, that may seem pretty normal for some people but I used to be someone who worked in a hairdressers and would constantly change my hairstyle, just for fun. I’ve experimented with pretty much every hair colour going (it was even hot pink at one point) and have played around with styles and different types of hair extensions but that all changed in my late teens when I lost my hair from stress caused by being in an abusive relationship. It would fall out in clumps when I washed it and would literally snap off when I tried to brush it, the long thick hair that I’d always considered to be my best feature ended up breaking off into a thin and wispy bob that reached my chin. It stayed that way for a good couple of years until I eventually broke away from my ex and it slowly became healthy again and began to grow.

I haven’t dared cut it or change it too much since then, always preferring to play it safe in case it got damaged again. It finally grew back to the length it was before it all fell out and I swore that I would never have short hair again. I didn’t want to look in the mirror and be reminded of that time; I didn’t want to see the person I was then reflected back at me. I’d even go as far as to say that my hair became a safety blanket that I could use to hide behind letting it hang over my face as I walked down the street. Having long hair was proof that I was healthy, strong and out of that toxic relationship, that I wasn’t the same girl that I was back then because I didn’t look like her.

A couple of weeks ago I decided to cut my hair. I’ve been admiring shorter hairstyles (I’m looking at you Taylor Swift) for the past few years and thought about how I’d love to have my own hair that way but was too afraid to, not because of how it would look but because I wasn’t sure how I’d react to seeing myself that way again mentally. This year, with the help of my counsellor, I’ve been reconnecting with the old me who I shunned when I came out of that relationship. It was like I couldn’t deal with being that person anymore so I let her go and created a new identity so that I could move forward. In therapy I’ve been working on reclaiming those parts of myself that I cast aside and placing them back into my personality, kind of like a jigsaw. Being adventurous with my hair is just one of the jigsaw pieces.

                     

Before and After My New Haircut

For me cutting my hair was about so much more than simply wanting a new style, it’s being okay with who I was back then and even allowing that girl a little room in my present, it’s also about embracing a new chapter in my life. It’s doing something I really wanted to do and not letting anxiety or bad associations hold me back. It’s about taking what once was a bad experience that was out of my control and turning it into a positive experience where this is completely my choice.

My family do this thing where when they see me making progress they say “we’re getting the old Jess back” for years I rejected and even hated that statement because I did not like the old Jess. She was the girl who was hit by her boyfriend, she was the girl who was manipulated, she was this version of myself that I hated being. For many years I’ve blamed her for the abuse and rejected her, rejected me. Now after a lot of therapy I look at that young girl and realise that It. Was. Not. Her. Fault. I realise that I even like her, she was strong and intelligent and got us out of a shit situation before it was too late. I might not be here writing this without her.

That day when I cut my hair was me accepting that girl back into my life with open arms. It was me picking up a heart-shaped, dusty old piece of jigsaw and putting it back into the space where it has always belonged.

If you enjoyed this post, you can find more on: 

 Bloglovin' | Twitter | Jess Hearts Books

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My Body, My Rules

I’ll call her Diane. I hadn’t seen her for two years. She’s in her mid-seventies and has been a family friend since I was 11 years old, though we’d never been close. When I bumped into her in a café recently, the first thing she said to me was, “Give us a hug.” With a new-found confidence and sense of worth, I refused. Whilst she soon left me, unhappy with my response, I felt empowered.

There’s a quote seen frequently on Instagram that says, “Be the person you needed when you were younger.” This person is different for each of us. Perhaps you needed someone who would take you seriously. Perhaps you needed someone to provide stability away from addiction and violence. There were two things that I needed: a voice and control over my own body. These are basic human rights that, as children, we may have lacked and that, as young women, we may even deny ourselves.

Violation of our bodies leaves a lingering mark. A decade after I stopped being sexually abused, a stranger sidled up to me and touched me inappropriately. I stayed silent. I told myself that one more incident wouldn’t make a difference, that other people had free reign over me and I just had to accept it. NO!

An older woman telling me to hug her may seem a world away from the secrecy of abuse, but the demanding of a physical action reignited the anxiety of that time. Thankfully, Instagram’s wisdom struck me, as I thought, “You don’t have to do this.” The powerlessness that I lacked as a child didn’t have to be a part of my adulthood. The voice silenced by men could be as loud as I asked it to be. This is what I now call My Body, My Rules. 

You can always say, “No.” Even if your voice shakes or you’re afraid of the response you’ll receive, you can say, “No.” I was aware that my refusal to give a hug could come across as stand-offish, but I also knew what self-respect I would gain from it. You don’t have to explain your response (“I don’t appreciate a hug being demanded from me as if it’s an obligation!”) as long as you know why you made it. It doesn’t have to be rape or inappropriate behaviour. You can question anything that makes you feel uncomfortable.

Unfortunately, I can’t change my past, nor, if it happened today, could I necessarily prevent abuse from reoccurring. Abusers aren’t focused on the desires of their victims and so a refusal would likely have no influence. But for the little girl who had no choice, I will still say, “I’m worth more than that.” For who I am today, a young woman with value and with dignity, I will say, “This isn’t okay for me.”

Our bodies are ours. It is okay to protect them. In fact, it is of paramount importance that we do. You are precious and one of a kind. Your rules. Always.

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Make-up as I go along

Last Friday looking fine

Something you might not know if you don’t see my face in real life (Instagram pics are not exactly true representations of my appearance) is that I hardly ever wear make-up. In a month I might only put on make-up once or twice and that will inevitably be for some kind of occasion like last Friday when Jess and I went to a book launch in Nottingham. I was actually wearing foundation, eyeshadow and mascara that day which for me is quite a lot, I only bought the foundation a month or so ago on a whim because it seemed like it might look less weird on my skin than foundations I’ve tried previously (fair warning, the last time I owned foundation was probably around 2004 when that Dream Matte mousse stuff was all the rage so I’ve got rather limited experience).

I have fairly dry skin (probably need to drink more water that hasn’t had a teabag in it), so when I tried foundation when I was younger it looked super flaky and awful so I just stopped wearing it. I wasn’t all that taken with the idea of coating my face in a layer of foundation and powder when I was in high school and if it meant I had to get up 30mins to an hour earlier in order to apply it all I was like “nah”. If you don’t know – I am *big* fan of sleep and my bed, it would take a much bigger incentive than having a superficially flawless complexion to get me waking up at 6am or some shit like that.

First time wielding the liquid liner

Inherent laziness is a massive contributing factor to my bare-faced ways but there’s also the simple truth that I don’t really know what I’m doing. I never had someone showing me how to apply make-up, I literally only tried liquid eyeliner just before last Christmas and considering how naff the eyeliner I had was I thought I did quite well. My mother hasn’t worn daily make-up for more years than I can even remember so I never had the whole “stealing Mum’s lipstick and smearing it on my face” experience. The only thing I figured out to do was plonk eyeshadow on my eyelid and run a mascara wand through my lashes. I was also rather fond of taking a black kohl pencil to the lower waterline and I’ll be honest it worked for me so why do more?

While I was in high school I did wear eyeshadow & mascara most days but after I moved up into Sixth form I drifted away from wearing make-up and I’ve never really got back into it. I still prefer that extra time asleep and rely on some moisturiser to save my face from looking truly awful when I go to work. I don’t have great skin, my cheeks have a fair bit of redness to them all the time and my jaw and chin are a goddamn mess and are not showing signs of clearing up any time soon. I’m aware I could mask all that with foundation and concealer if I really wanted to but I just don’t like the feeling of a full face of make-up.

My god that eyeshadow O_O

The only time I’ve had someone else apply make-up for me (other than that time I was in a theatre production which we’re not talking about) was for my Year 11 Prom and boy, did I hate it. I was deeply uncomfortable that entire night, not just because my face felt like it was caked in make-up. My hair, which had been curled at the hairdresser’s had dropped by the time I got home, I was wearing a stick-on bra thing because the dress was backless and these ridiculous tummy-tuck knickers that stopped on an awkward part of my hips and were so fucking visible under my satiny dress. I wanted to strip it all off and hide.

I’m now in a weird kind of limbo where I’d *like* to wear make-up to even out my crappy complexion but at the same time I don’t care enough to spend time and money applying it every day. For years the idea of buying products to essentially throw it away one day at a time just didn’t make economic sense to me and now I’m so ingrained in this mentality that it’s hard to cast it aside for the sake of feeling better about my appearance. It’s not even that I have outside pressure to look more aesthetically pleasing, no one in my life is telling me “oh you’d look so much prettier if you wore more make-up” but they will compliment me when I do wear it.

From following a lot of very cool women on social media I see some of the most bitchin’ make-up styles which frankly makes me super envious. I’m not brave enough to try attempting massive eyeliner wings, pastel lips or filled-in eyebrows without some kind of friend nearby to help me fix it when it invariably goes to shit. I also am in serious need of someone to properly assess my skin and say definitively what kind of products I ought to be using and what sort of make-up styles are just gonna be a no-no on my face.

That’s where Jess is gonna come in. Yes *that* Jess – Safe Space creator extraordinaire and my bestest friend nugget in this whole world (if you didn’t know, well now you know). We’ve talked about her helping me experiment with make-up and work out what suits me over the next few months. I have even given permission for her to do my make-up at some point, so look out for some hella awesome insta-pics in the future.

It’s a weird journey I’m on with make-up that keeps changing and evolving so maybe in a year or so I’ll feel more comfortable applying and wearing make-up or maybe I won’t. Who knows? We’ll have to see. I'll probably be back with another post about it if I have a break-through.

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