Well, it's been a week for me. A week of reminders that mental health ebbs and flows. That as humans we are inconsistent. Moods are changing and situations are moving, although often at a different speed than we were hoping. We've got to trust the timing, although often it seems the clock is set wrong. 

I'm an anxious person. I think everyone has some level of anxiety. But there was a day this week when it felt like my entire being was made of anxiety. I didn't know how I was going to make it through that day. Not in a morbid way, in a way that everything felt so heightened I couldn't imagine being out of it, but here we are.

I cried. I threw up, twice. I breathed, in for the count of 4. I held it for the count of 4. and I breathed out for the count of 4. One, two three, four. I lay on the floor in the fetal position and noticed my body shaking. And eventually had a somewhat normal evening. My mind wasn't switched off, but I went about the motions. I sat in front of the TV while my fiancé cooked dinner. I wasn't watching the TV but it was on. I ate carbonara, but I don't think I tasted it. And then I slept. The next day I had what I could only describe as an anxiety hangover. My head was pounding. But I'd made it to the next day, and from then the week was on the up. 

I think that day, I had what people refer to as a breakdown. I'm not really sure how you classify something as a breakdown, but it felt like I had broken. I've had panic attacks before but this felt like more, it felt like I was stuck in a loop of panic attacks. But as my week went it felt more distant, and I remember what it was like to feel joy again. In fact, I even felt joy again.

I know this was triggered by a situational thing. A build-up of a situation which crescendoed. A situation which will hopefully change. And of course, I'm going to take action to not get to this point again. Make changes where they're needed. 

This was a personal one I know. I didn't have much of a plan for today's writing session. Beforehand I'd listened to The Ravens podcast, where, Tessa was a guest, and on this podcast about One Tree Hill they spoke about mental health, and the importance of sharing it - and so when I went to write, that's where I went with it. Is spoken about my mental health online before, but I've never gone into the details. Today it felt like the details mattered. That I'd experienced something which felt so intense writing about it might dilute it. Or at least comfort someone else. 

Bad days happen, but they don't define the other days, and even when we feel feeble I think we can find the power in us to make changes, at least that's what I'm attempting.

It has been a while. 

I lost my way with writing, I lost my way with this blog.

I felt as though I'd run out of things to say. I couldn't find words that held value, every sentence felt like too much or too little.

Life got busy. My life changed, transformed, and morphed into something new. Before I knew it I had new routines. A new home to settle into. A relationship that did the job which writing used to do, clearing the dusty corners in my mind. Life felt lighter.

And then it got heavy. In love and living in a happy home. I struggled with anxiety and found my skin angry with eczema flare-ups (severe and covering 90% of my body) making day-to-day tough. Transforming little things feel like big things, and not in a nice way. With that my mind filled with fog, and my priority was navigating each day, with only the energy to binge Netflix shows in my pockets of spare time. 

Things have moved forward as they do. And the dust had cleared and now I have space to find words again. 

I've wanted to get back into blogging for the longest time. I just no longer knew how to do it. Ideas for blog posts stopped coming to me in the middle of the night. It wasn't until I was reading Jamie Varon's newsletter that I realised why.

She said "I want to outgrow past versions of myself so completely that trying to go back is painful. I don’t want to be who I was."

And it made me so painfully aware, I'd been trying to grow by going backwards. 

I was trying to make this website of mine what it used to be. Trying to mould words to sound like a past version of myself. But I'm not her anymore, and there's value in growth. Maybe eyeliner reviews don't spark joy like they used to. The purpose of my writing is not what it once was. I'm no longer trying and failing to create a career out of sharing things I love online. I'm writing to know myself more. Play with words again, build them into stories and wanderings which might provide clarity, provoke thought, or a moment of peace. For myself and maybe for whoever else decides to read.

Now I've learned things are fluid, and there might come a time I want to use this platform to share a really great lipstick, but for now, once a week, I'm going to sit down with my laptop and write what comes to me. I might not share everything, and sometimes there might not be a lot to share, but every week, the intent will be there, and I think that's enough.

I'm ready to write again, and I hope you'll come and read what I've got to say.

Typing feels exciting again, and that's really something.

And although the style might be slightly different, after typing away, I feel light, like I used to.

Hello, happy new year. 2022 feels good, doesn't it? 

As I do around this time every year, I've been thinking about the person I am, the person I want to be, the things I want to achieve and the kind of life I would like to lead and use this information to set my intentions and goals for the year to come (my blog post on my word of intention for the year is coming soon too, promise).

I know some people don't like thhe practice of create new year goals and resolutions, but I personally find them refreshing and exciting. They add a little extra flavour to the hope I find within a new year beginning.

So without further ado - here are my goals for 2022...

Feel like a writer again - and a blogger for that matter.

I used to feel like a writer. I used to shae poetry on my Instagram despite cringing whilst pressing post. I've written an entire finished draft of a novel, which is simply sitting on the laptop I'm typing on right now, just waiting around for me to make some edits. I used to write for the sake of writing. For how it made me feel. 

My life had transformed a lot over the past few years. It's become happier, one I'd wished for, but with that my constant desire to write somewhat faded. It wasn't that I no longer enjoyed it, more that I no longer need to feel the release it provides. I no longer feel so lost that words on the page are the only way I can find myself. But still, I miss writing. I miss the places it takes and the peace it brings me. I miss the thrill of the words just coming to me. The high of feeling like I've explained myself in a way I couldn't out loud. I stopped writing because I didn't feel so sad, so lost that I needed it. But now I'm happy and in the place I want to be and maybe it's worth writing about that too. My happiness is worth writing down, recording on paper.

I miss talking about my blog with pride. I miss showing up, sharing with my tiny part of the internet every week. In 2022, I will find the writer and the blogger within me again. 

A long time ago I wrote this blog post. Deep down I'm still that girl who dreams of being a writer. So I'd better get writing again.

Have more fun with fashion.

Complete 5 paintings

Make 5 pieces of clothing that I actually wear.

Actually, start my search for a literary agent and publisher

Go outside every day

This is such a simple thing, that makes all the difference to my mental health. I'm working from home at the moment, and sometimes before I realise it I haven't been outside for a day or two. This year I'm going to make a conscious effort to get outside each day. To breath in the fresh air, and have a moment or two to take in nature. 

Have you set yourself any goals for 2022?

I'll be sure to update you on how mine are going as the year progresses!

Sharper Emotions 

Too Sensitive

Unsure

Mosaic 

One Week

Irrelevant 

Feeling Heavy

Monochrome Kaleidoscope

Unreachable

Happily ever after

Drunken, Dancing Souls

Not so pretty poetry

Something which comes alongside and usually before succeeding is trying. Something which comes alongside and usually before trying is fear. As humans, we often make assumptions about our abilities, we have a biased idea of what's realistic for us. what we are 'good' at and where we fall short. These assumptions can then play into that fear. They create a domino effect pushing down our desire to try and ability to succeed. These assumptions leave dreams and ambitions, as just that. An idea in our heads, a figment of our imagination and nothing more. 

The thing is, often it's all in my head, the idea I'm rubbish at something. Through lack of attempts, sure it seems tangible. The little effort is reflected in lack of ability which creates the illusions that I right in not trying, because the feeble attempts, without the actual work, aren't successful. But what if I stopped basing my ideas on illusions, instead looked for proof. Where to find proof? The proof in the trying. You never know if you don't try. I don't mean some half-assed occasional effort. I mean trying with my full ass. Trying until things get uncomfortable. Can I push myself to be good at something I've told myself I'm bad at? There's only one way to find out.

I've blogged for years, but social media hasn't been my strong suit. I've convinced myself over and over I'm just bad at building a following, so haven't put the effort in. 

I've written daily but imposter syndrome has stopped me feeling worthy, so I haven't sent the pitches.

I stopped sharing my poetry through fear of being vulnerable.

I set up a newsletter but was too concern about the typos and spelling mistakes to click send.

Those aren't full ass attempts. Heck, they're not even half a cheek.

What will happen when I decide the fear doesn't matter? If anything the fear an indication I'm trying and always, I'd like to be known as the girl who puts the effort in, someone who's determined and hard-working. 

So, now is where I start trying. Here is where I stare fear in the face. Maybe I'll be successful, and maybe I won't, but I think the trying counts for more than we give it credit for.

So with all of this in mind... this will be my first newsletter, to give you an idea of how I'll be exploring my thoughts in your inboxes, I thought I'd post it to the blog too. 

You can subscribe here for more newsletters where I'll be exploring my thoughts.

_______

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There have been times my head has felt like it's exploding and my heartbreaking, and finding a tangible, maybe beautiful way to put that on to paper, made it easier to cope. Despite being dreadful at spelling, I don't remember a time I wasn't fascinated with words and how we string them together. How they can carry weight and how the right combination of them, can make a person feel. Words can evoke emotion which you didn't even know was there.

Lost my mind

Many Things 

Feeling Heavy

Lonely 

I worked at a job I never wanted for 8 years. Sometimes I liked it.  There were days I laughed with my colleagues, my friends. The children called me pretty if I wore makeup (which was rare). They drew me pictures of rainbows, I stuck them to my bedroom wall like a proud parent displaying finger paintings on the fridge.
There were days I locked myself in the staff toilet and cried. Days parents complained, no matter how hard I worked. Sometimes the children played up, as children do. When they wouldn't listen, I felt out of control, not just of them, of my entire life. On these days, I hated myself because I dreamed of more. These days outweighed the ones I felt lucky.

I wrote more. I encouraged 3 years old to eat their veg. I wrote more. I helped children master potty training. I wrote. I gave out stickers for good behaviour while daydreaming of writing more. 

Dress: New Look (similar linked) | Tee: Topshop | Shoes: M&S | Earring: Primark (similar linked) | Bag: Urban Outfitters (similar linked) | Necklace: ASOS (similar linked)

photography by Madeleiine Grace

Dreams are great, but with making them come true there’s pressure. We overlook the sacrifice and strain that comes with being a #girlboss.

Could that ambition we’re all so proud of, that we strive for, actually be damaging?

80 per cent of British females they put too much pressure on themselves to be perfect even though they accomplish an average of 26 tasks a day. 26 tasks don't feel enough. Our stress walks hand in hand with our to-do list, which is, of course never-ending. When we're not ticking things off, we're feeling guilty about it, lazy even. That list is infinite due to this notion of more which strips us of the pride of our achievements. Amongst curated Instagram feeds and viral success stories, the average Joe isn’t going to measure up. This inadequacy makes us more determined, more hungry for success.

Dress: ASOS | Shoes: Vans

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