creativity and positivity: 2018

FENTY BEAUTY BELFAST POP-UP AND HAUL

beauty

August 05, 2018
0 Comments

WHAT TO PACK FOR A CITY BREAK

lifestyle

July 29, 2018
0 Comments

"IF IT DOESN'T OPEN, IT'S NOT YOUR DOOR"

lifestyle

July 14, 2018
10 Comments

LONG-TERM RELATIONSHIPS - EXPECTATIONS VS REALITY

lifestyle

June 30, 2018
5 Comments

LIFE UPDATE: FIRSTS, ANNIVERSARIES AND THE FUTURE

personal

Hello you gorgeous sun-kissed lot! Well, I imagine with the "heatwave," (and I say heatwave with a completely serious tone because bloody hell it is WARM) most of you have spent your time in your gardens, stuck to crap plastic furniture, enjoying a few drinks and basking in the glory of the summer and the patriotic spirit of the World Cup. At any rate, you're probably more tanned and toned than my pasty Casper-looking self, so you can all take comfort in that fact at least. As some of you may or may not have noticed, I've been absent from my blogger duties over the last number of months, and my life has been going through some massive changes - both exciting and absolutely petrifying. Over the summer and beyond, I have some absolutely fabulous (if I do say so myself) content coming up, as I immerse myself in my quest to take my blog to the next level. Before I do that however, I thought I'd give you all a brief overview of what I've been up to over the last few months with a little chatty catch up!

First of all, after days, weeks and months of coursework, research, drafting and studying I have FINALLY finished my undergraduate degree. But more importantly, I graduate in two weeks time - AND I'M ONLY BLOODY GRADUATING WITH A FIRST CLASS HONOURS! Okay, now that's the boasting out of the way, onto the more heartfelt stuff. I've talked at length about the pressure, abysmal pastoral support and complete lack of motivation I felt in my latter years of high school when it came to my grades and future. I was told in my penultimate year of higher education that if I went to university, I probably wouldn't make it past first year, and that average grades would not see me through to the end. After that, I gave myself a good kick up the arse and worked said arse off to even get to university, and once I made it into that lecture hall on day one, everything changed. I have never felt more confident in my abilities, academically nurtured or supported than I have in the last three years, and once I realised, "Hey, you know, I might actually be good at this whole English thing," I made it my goal to prove every teacher, academic and scholar who told me "no" wrong.

I thought graduating with a first was only a wild fantasy that I never genuinely believed I could ever achieve, especially after almost crumbling under the weight of my final year. But, taking time away from social media and managing to find a balance between work, my social life and my studies has paid off, and I couldn't be more proud of myself. I've been accepted onto the master's course for English Literature at my current university, and I start in September. I'm excited to take the next step in figuring out my future, and for possibly the first time in my life, I genuinely believe that I have a future ahead of me. I will never again say that I am incapable of achieving great things, as I now understand that with a lot of hard work, determination and self-belief, I AM able to make myself proud and capture fantasies that may seem out of reach.

However, as the academic year has drawn to a close, sadly so has our time at our beautiful little coastal student apartment. My boyfriend and I moved out at the start of the month, and we've been back at our respective parent's homes for about three weeks now. It is really difficult adjusting to being on your own, with your family again after spending so much time in your own company, and with your partner. The good news is that, come September we will be living with our housemates again, as we did in second year, and after that we are planning on saving as much as we can to put towards a house that we can finally call our own. In other exciting news, we celebrated our 7th (!!) anniversary two weeks ago in a low-key way, with a lovely dinner and casual night in watching Bob's Burgers. Who said romance is dead? We are also planning a proper trip away to Florida! So we have much to look forward to together as we move into the future.

Some of you may also remember that I recently spoke about being on the pill for a number of years, and how it began to affect my physical and mental health seemingly beyond repair. I took a six month break from it, and recently began taking it again to see how and if it truly is the cause of my mental health and physical problems. Over the last month, my mental health hasn't been as traumatic as it was when I started to wean myself off of the pill, and my mood imbalances and psychotic episodes are lessening in severity. However, physically I am in a lot of pain and now I'm worried that I have done irreversible damage to my legs, arms and other body parts. After I complete the current strip I'm taking, I am going to head back to the doctors and see what can be done to alleviate my health anxiety and physical issues.

On the subject of physically, I have recently started to really think about my diet, exercise regime and how it makes me feel inside and out. I've gained almost a stone in a year, and my relationship with my body is at rock bottom. I snack too much, my portions are huge and I feel lethargic and tired all the time. Much of this has to do with increasing my hours at work, leaving me with little to no time to prepare myself meals, minus sticking something quick in the microwave. The other issue is being back at home, where I'm stuck in a family that pay little to no attention to what they eat, instead eating what they want, when they want it. Starting this week, I'm immersing myself in a whole new approach to my lifestyle - going veggie, cooking healthy meals for myself and realising my limits when it comes to food, snacking on healthier choices and exercising every day, with a combination of cardio, muscle workouts, yoga and dance. I'm recognising that my relationship with myself has broken down, and I'm trying my best to get back to that healthy, happy girl in a way that suits me and that I can recognise what I need and why I need it. I'm going to focus on this for at least a month, and I will keep you all updated on my progress!

As for the future of "creativity and positivity," I have a lot of varied and exciting content lined up over the next few weeks. During the course of my exams I really fell out of love with social media, viewing it as a distraction from what needed to be done. Now that's all behind me, I have more time to dedicate to my photos, my social media and most importantly my blog. I plan to completely revamp my page and other important things by September at the very latest. Until then, I'm concentrating on more thought pieces, and less contrived "I'm posting this because I feel pressurised to put something out there so I don't get left behind," posts. I'll still do the odd brand collab, and beauty post, but I really want to focus on what makes me happy, which includes fashion, thought pieces, feminism and personal anecdotes. I'm excited moving forward, and I hope you all are too!

Well, I think that's everything covered, and that's you all caught up on the inner workings of my life. I hope you all enjoyed and hopefully I'll see you back here for more posts!

Until next time,

June 26, 2018
2 Comments

HORMONES, MENTAL HEALTH AND ME

mental health

I’m not exaggerating when I say that this post has been a long time coming. I’ve had this thought piece swirling around my head for years now, but something has always held me back from sitting down, letting my thoughts take over and pressing publish. Partly because this post is so personal, and for the longest time I felt like I was alone in my experiences, and until I recently discussed this problem with some friends and realised I hadn’t been the only person who encountered difficulties on my mental health journey. The other half of me is absolutely petrified to talk about it. Even as I type these words, my heart is fluttering so hard it feels as though it’s about to burst out of my chest and bleed all over the keyboard.

I don’t know why I feel so afraid to discuss a topic that I’ve been so open about since I began using social media many moons ago. It could be that the prospect of exposing my less than linear mental health in meticulous detail for all to see makes me feel naked, like I’m reopening every healed scar and distressing experience only to relive it once again. Obviously, I am not the same person I was when I first began to transition from a happy, bubbly young teenager to someone who genuinely didn’t believe that they would make it to today. But the memories and experiences that shaped me into who I am, and paved the stones of my recovery still linger fresh in my mind. Of course, I would never want my experiences to trigger someone who is struggling with their own mental health, so I won’t go into too much detail, but this is an issue that I believe needs to be discussed, and there is no better time to publish this post than on Mental Health Awareness Week. So, here goes nothing.

Here’s some context: I first started to experience the emotional side of puberty when I was ten years old. My moods would vary wildly from excitement and childish curiosity, to extreme anger and emotional distress. This is not unusual for a sensitive young child who had experienced a lot of problems and issues that most kids my age had not yet thought about, or been fortunate enough to have happen to them. But as I began to transition into adulthood and experience the wonder of hormones and typical teenage behaviour, I noticed that something was different. Most of my friends could cope with challenging situations in a calm and controlled way, and my only solutions to problems were to cry until I got my own way or explode at those around me. My family, my friends I didn’t care who was in the firing line, but they were going to listen to me. I’m aware that this sounds like typical, problematic teenage behaviour, and that the younger me comes across as a little shit who lacked any discipline or direction. Now that I’m older and I can truly understand the toxic circumstances of my relationships with those around me, and the pressure I felt to continue to mould myself into the perfect, responsible big sister, I know exactly why I behaved like that.

What also separated my emotions and behaviour from my acquaintances that were consistently problematic, was that my outbursts were infrequent and the remorse and regret I felt afterwards was immediate. It made me believe that I was the worst person in the world. I wasn’t worthy of affection, love and support that those around me were providing me. My brain told me that there were people out there who would die for the privileges that I was fortunate enough to have in my life, and if I didn’t feel I was worthy of them I should not even be here. As a result, I began to retract further into the safety of the barriers I placed around myself. On the outside, I was able to disguise how I felt, but it eventually became all too much and I no longer wanted to live.

Until recently, my mother worked as a mental health nurse for over fifteen years. When she recognised the intensity of my mood swings and negative emotions she carted me off to the doctors. I watched as her and my GP had a discussion about my mental health in front of me, without even consulting me to ask how I was feeling. My doctor explained to my mother about hormone imbalances in young women, and as I also had the physical problems of puberty that coincided with what she was saying, my behaviours were diagnosed as a direct result of puberty. My mental health issues were dismissed as typical teenage girl emotions and I was placed on the pill at thirteen years old. Nothing more was said after that. With a little perspective, part of me believes that my mum didn’t want to admit that something more was wrong with me. She worked with people like me every day, from mild cases to the most extreme, and I wholeheartedly believe that she didn’t want the weight of her work carried into her domestic life too. In addition to this, she didn’t exactly have a clean bill of health when it came to her own mental health, and it certainly seemed like she was in denial about the fact I was fast becoming more and more like her every day. As a teenager, I resented her for years for ignoring my feelings and refusing to acknowledge that something more was happening to me. Now I’m older, I understand exactly why she did that.

As time progressed, the pill helped balance my physical issues. Periods become more bearable, my skin cleared up and my appetite was suppressed, and on the surface, I functioned as regularly as other girls my age. I worked on shedding my image as a bullied, scared girl and blossomed into someone confident, funny and independent. But inside I was fighting a losing battle with myself, and on the outside, I continued to treat those around me like complete shit to reflect how I felt on the inside. I allowed myself to be manipulated by those who had control over me, and this led to me doing the exact same to those I cared about. I hated everything about myself. When I started to educate myself on mental health conditions and recognised the behaviours I exhibited, I realised that something was still wrong with me.

However, those conversations between my mother and my doctor haunted my thoughts and stopped me from speaking out. I didn’t want to be dismissed as a silly little girl who was exaggerating her thoughts and emotions for attention. I’d heard enough of that from kids my own age who mercilessly made me feel terrible about things that I’d done, thus stopping me from getting over the person I used to be. I kept quiet, only confiding in those closest to me and seeking support from strangers on the internet who I could identify with, who I knew wouldn’t judge me. I put them through hell, and even now I will never forgive myself for how I acted, nor for taking so long to speak out.

The catalyst of change came with one phone call from my mother. One of her patients who we both had become extremely close to had committed suicide. She was only 21. She struggled with mental health issues for years, and although it seemed like she was on the road to recovery, she had kept her true emotions hidden from those around her. We held each other and cried, and that was the first time I told my mum exactly how I felt. “I don’t want to that to happen to me.” “I know.” That was the beginning of my recovery process.

But I’ve been doing it on my own since then, with support from my family, friends, partner and work. However, even now it’s still a taboo subject to talk about, and no one can look me in the eye when I start to express my thoughts and feelings. Even at 21, I am still haunted by the fact that my concerns were dismissed as little more than my hormones acting up, all those years ago. Now, that’s obviously not the case, and this year I promised that I would finally start the diagnosis process with my doctors and get the help I truly need. I took myself off the pill, and I’ve experienced the roughest five months of my life. Extreme depressive slumps, psychotic episodes and hallucinations, memory loss, highs and lows, crippling anxiety that’s left me housebound and afraid to complete even the simplest of tasks – I’ve experienced them all. Yet, I am still being dismissed.

I’m not the only young woman I know who has experienced this utter neglect from the health services and those around me. I know my own mind, and I know exactly what’s wrong with me. But I’ve been told my only option is to go back on the pill and see how the next five months pan out while my hormones rebalance. I don’t want to go through this again, but I don’t have a choice because I am not believed. I’ve been met with scorn, disbelief and abuse every step of the way, hence why I have largely battled this alone. Hence, why I’m scared to publicly express how I feel. But I refused to be pushed to the sides.

The affirmation that I am not alone in how I feel, is more than enough to inspire me to continue to seek help, to continue to do better for myself and those around me. I don’t recognise that girl any more. I don’t recognise that ten-year-old who was ridiculed for being too sensitive, for being too much, who had the weight of the world on her shoulders. I don’t recognise that thirteen-year-old, whose mental health issues were dismissed as nothing more than “hormones,” who allowed herself to be taken advantage of and took her issues out on those around her. I’m so far removed from that eighteen-year-old, who swore this time would be different, who knew she had to grow up and who continued to be destructive and allow her self-doubt to ruin her mental health.

We need to listen to those around us. We need to recognise our own behaviours and take responsibility for our mental health. We need to stop dismissing symptoms of mental illness as typical behaviours and hormone imbalances. I have been fighting for most of my teenage and adult life to be taken seriously, and to get the support I desperately need. My mental health journey has been a rollercoaster, and it’s time I take responsibility for myself and work to better myself. It takes more than a positive mental attitude and self-care practices to get better, and although I still harbour resentment over how I’ve been treated over the years, I have forgiven myself and now I need to help myself too.

BERET: TK MAXX

JUMPER: DAISY STREET

JEANS: TOPSHOP

BOOTS: PRIMARK

SUNGLASSES: H+M

Thank you for reading, and please, realise that you are never truly alone in your mental health battle. There is support, there is love and acceptance out there. Please, don’t put it off for as long as I have.

Until next time,