Sundays; The Other End of The Spectrum

Bah, Sundays.

I know there are so many people that feel this way, but why do most of us hate Sundays? The sad truth is that most people aren’t truly happy in their job. This is also a very common feeling for those that are in a Monday-Friday job.

A couple of Fridays ago I wrote a blog post with regards to some of my anxieties and expectations of weekends. That rush of a ‘Friday feeling’ when I am running out of the door from work, looking forward to getting home but then finding, particularly if there isn’t much planned for the weekend, feeling a bit lost – not quite sure what to do with myself.

However, on the other end of the spectrum, once Sunday comes around my mood usually starts to dip slightly and I always think to myself: ‘I really cannot be bothered with work this coming week and I am not going to take next Friday for granted.’ This is of course a lie as when the next Friday comes around, I’m usually feeling the same feelings all over again.

I usually hate Sundays for the following two reasons:

• Housework: The flat is looking a little grimy and the clothes washing is starting to pile up but I usually try to procrastinate and tell myself I will do a room a day during the week, so that I don’t have to be in the position I am every Sunday. This is complete and utter bulls**t and I haven’t a clue why I do this every weekend.
• Bedtime: This has been a little bit of an anxiety for me for the last eighteen months, or so. As I begin work at 7:30am, and I have to walk to work, it means I have to drag myself out of bed at 5:30am. The waking up early matter isn’t an issue for me however, it’s the having the be asleep super early that is tricky. It means that on a Sunday I essentially sit and clock watch: ‘Nine hours until bedtime…five hours until bedtime…three hours…’ and I ultimately end up wasting time doing this obsessive, anxiety induced, activity. It then means that by the time I come to bed at around 9pm, I am freaking out at the idea of not sleeping – which results in me not getting to sleep. Ahhh bedtime brain.

I have spent many a Sunday endeavouring to focus on the above two points and ways to not feel the way that I feel as it’s never going to benefit me and I’m only going to continue to waste my time when I could be doing things I really enjoy doing. Like this. I really enjoy writing. Is it meta that I’m currently doing something that I like, whilst writing/discussing about the main points that tend to ruin my Sunday therefore doing the thing that I like? Ah, my brain is scrambled trying to figure that one out…

Are you in a Monday-Friday job and enjoy Sundays? If so, pleaseeeeeee impart some wisdom as I would love to try some things that may be of help. I’m also open to suggestions that don’t involve my arse leaving the couch however, probably best it involves some degree to physical movement…

Robyn ♥

Why I Need To Be Kinder to Myself: Confessions of a Chocoholic.

Hi, my name’s Robyn and I’m a chocoholic…

Hi Robyn.

For the last 4 years, I have managed to maintain a size 16 (UK sizing). I haven’t a clue how, I feel like I should be a size 20 at this rate given how much chocolate I have consumed over the last number of years and the severe lack of exercise.

It’s no shock to those that know me that I have a sweet-tooth. I would pick chocolate over crisps, or any other savoury snack for that matter. I was brought up in a house where if I ate my dinner I would get a pudding of sorts. It was definitely a technique used to ensure I ate all my dinner. Granted, my mum didn’t feed me with ridiculously unhealthy desserts after every meal, usually a yoghurt or a small bowl of ice cream however, that absolutely contributes to the insane sweet cravings I have after my main meal every evening.

Prior to meeting my husband I managed to, at no effort of my own, slim down to a size 12, the smallest I had been in a very long time. This was purely because I was a student at that point and worked insane hours at my part time job at the airport, meaning I didn’t really eat in the same way I do today. It was usually getting in at 10pm and eating those horrific pasta things you put in a mug and pour boiling water over. To this day I cannot stomach the stuff. But at the time it was quick, easy, and not too heavy on my stomach as I had to get to bed to be up at 6:30am for college.

Once I met Kamen he reintroduced my love of food. Even more so when we got more comfortable in our relationship. No longer was I eating stroke-induced dried mug pasta but instead I was eating home-made beef/chicken burgers, chilli con carne and hearty curries.

As I started making more money again, the love of chocolate stepped back into my life. Unfortunately this meant my thighs started getting bigger.

It took me many years to realise that I was still eating like an 18 year old but with a metabolism of someone in their mid twenties.

I’m one of those people that gains weight all over their body. I have heard from some people that that isn’t always such a bad thing as it all balances out however, I have spent the last 4 years hating my body more than what I did before. Whilst I never had the ‘sought after’ thigh gap, I struggle to wear dresses without tights now due to the extreme ‘chub rub’. My holiday to Gran Canaria in May this year was a nightmare. I think I need to invest in a pair of those handy shorts that people suffering the same problem seem to be raving about.

4 years is a very long time to hate on yourself. You can only imagine what that has done to my self esteem and confidence. Then I enter into the vicious cycle of hating my self, but then reaching for the nearest tub of Ben & Jerrys whilst crying at my image in the mirror, then hating myself again, then eating more ice-cream, chocolate or even a cheeky Dominos – you get the picture.

Even though Kamen and I have had extensive conversations about how much I hate on myself, and how much he hates it, he decided to give it one last try whilst I was on the train home from London yesterday. I absolutely love him for his efforts as, whilst I appreciate it must be infuriating for him to have to listen to me whinging on a pretty much daily basis, he is genuinely mentioning it from the bottom of his heart on the basis of how much he cares about me. We then had a small conversation when I got home.

He’s absolutely right. Whilst I should make more efforts to ensure I am doing some form of exercise regularly for my own health, why should I continue to associate being curvy with ugly?! The amount of women I have come across on social media, who are the same clothing size as me, who I have found absolutely stunning! A few of the accounts who I follow who are huge advocates for being comfortable in your own skin and embracing your beauty regardless of not being a size 8:

• Megan Crabbe (Bodyposipanda)
• Mandy Jones (Empoweredwomanproject)
• Ashley Graham
• CurvyLuce

There are of course many more but the above four accounts are just a constant daily inspiration as to where I would love to be with regards to feeling more positive about being in my own skin.

At the end of the day I am only ever going to have this body. Whilst, yes, I can go work out at the gym five days a week and eat completely clean to end up with a sculpted body at the end of it. However, I don’t want that either. I love food!! I absolutely adore chocolate; if possible I would marry it! I’m just done with hating myself on a daily basis.

I really need to try my very best to be kinder to myself, to maybe instead of stand in front of the mirror and internally think “I hate you” but say out loud “I like you, let’s be friends”. It won’t be an easy journey but definitely something I need to try doing.

Robyn ♥

 

Ugly Duckling Stage; Too Many Female Teen Swans Today, How Did They Skip It!?

On my jaunt to and from work, I tend to suffer from tunnel vision. I only focus on what’s ahead. However, today was different.

What I witnessed before me was a group of teenage girls walking home from school donning bags that are nearly the same cost as my monthly rent, swishing their perfect long locks and covered in make-up that I only managed to begin to achieve after I reached the age of 25…

The one question popped into my mind; how has this generation skipped the ugly duckling stage!? 

I remember going through different phases of this stage during my adolescence:

1. Entering a tomboy phase when I first started high school. I wore insanely baggy “Nike” pullovers, appropriate school trousers and school shoes. I didn’t understand the concept of make-up and wore my hair in a scrape back pony-tail with two strands dangling onto my face (because I didn’t want to look ridiculous, right..?).
2. When I hit the age of fourteen, I began to care slightly more about how I looked however, I went down the ‘Emo’ phase. I got all of my hair cut off so I could gel it up and had crazy colour pink added into my blonde fringe. I wore all things black, white and occasionally pink – but it was ’emo’ pink, not girly pink, which made it alright. Then when I turned fifteen I began entering the ‘scene kid’ phase. I wore bright neon colours, neon make-up and began to grow my hair.
3. Then when I hit the grand age of sixteen I began settling down to the girl I am today. I wore more ‘socially acceptable’ clothes, and actually learned the true benefit of make-up; whilst getting rid of the neon eyeshadows.

I love the fact I can look back at old photos and laugh and reminisce those dodgy days. I will have pictures to show my children and use the phrase, “And this was the day Mama made a BAD hair choice”.

What will these girls have? Ridiculously filtered Instagram pictures with perfect eyebrows and having their contour on point…yes, that is what they will have. It’s one hundred percent down to the social media culture that these kids are surrounded by, which I managed to essentially skip. I come from the MySpace, Bebo and MSN era and I was more concerned about my ‘other half’, being creative with my profile, and my MSN tagline.

I feel that this stage of every kids life is crucial, to make mistakes in terms of appearance. Having your own identity and establishing what makes you comfortable and what doesn’t.

It’s just a shame to see that these girls won’t have had a moment like this since they were about eight years old. They might have gorgeous figures, perfect faces, beautiful hair; but I would rather have the memories of the time I was the ugly duckling.

Robyn ♥

That Friday Feeling pt 2; It’s a FOE!

Bit of a sad post this morning, but I really wanted to get it out of my system before my husband divorces me for driving him insane.

My calm Friday night with Man of Medan – I haven’t a clue why I thought it was going to be calm when playing a game like that – came to a grinding stop. My beautiful male dutch rabbit, Ponyo, had to be taken to the emergency vet service last night…

It started after Kamen got home and he went to give them both their evening feed. Usually both of them are eager for their food and it sets them into a bit of an excitable spin – literally, like seriously they will run in a small circle around each other and even throw in a wee hump for good measure. Even hearing a tap of their porcelain food bowl pricks their ears up and sends them running circles around our feet. Ponyo, unfortunately, was not doing this last night. He was hiding under one of the blanket forts we put together for them – rabbits like to sit in spaces that cover their head and body, due to their pre-existing prey nature – and refused to come out. Of course we weren’t too concerned at first as, like any animal and human, they can be in a bit of a mood sometimes. Maybe him and Hime – our female mini-lop – had a fight? Maybe he heard something he didn’t like and he was a bit frightened? Maybe he simply wasn’t hungry as he has always had a consistent urge to chew and eat everything in sight. So we left them to it for a bit.

I kept popping my head into the spare room – where they essentially have free reign to run about – to see how he was getting on and each time he was simply sitting in different corners of the room, hunched up and in his loaf position looking like he was sleeping. I tried handing him some food as Hime was slowly demolishing the food in the bowl by the second – she’s like me in that sense, if it’s there it’s free for all – but he wasn’t having it, nor the rabbit pellets he loves, nor any hay. The latter he kept pulling from my hand and dropping it – essentially he was telling me to b**ger off – but I could even feel less resistance than usual when he was trying to get it from my hand which made me worry more, the little lad has some grip and pull usually.

I then simply sat with him for a little bit and gave him some strokes. One thing Ponyo, and a lot of rabbits, hates is when you put both hands on him as he usually believes you have an agenda to pick him up. He then usually sits up and bolts for the nearest emergency exit. However, on this occasion, you guessed it – he simply sat there. He looked incredibly lethargic and slightly uncomfortable. Me being me, I got extremely emotional at this point as I just knew something was definitely wrong and I couldn’t do anything. Not eating was one thing but letting me stroke him with both hands at each side of his torso was another. All I wanted him to do was point those lovely ears up to the sky and run off.

It was about 10:45pm at this point and, originally, we were going to wait and see how he was doing this morning however, we made the decision to call the emergency vet services. After describing his symptoms the vet nurse insisted we bring him in straight away. I was scared.

To provide a bit of context as to what was going on, especially for those who don’t understand a rabbit’s anatomy, firstly rabbits are naturally prey animals, regardless of whether they are domesticated. In the context of last night, this means that whilst Ponyo was very likely in severe discomfort, he was doing his utmost to hide it. They don’t make a peep but, instead, show very subtle symptoms that something is wrong:

1. The hunch: Most rabbits, when they are in pain, will hunch into a ball. This can look similar to their typical ‘loaf’ position – when they literally look like a loaf of bread – so can be extremely difficult to spot, especially if you haven’t had the rabbit too long. Thankfully, we have had Ponyo for three years now and I could tell he looked a little odd in this position than usual.
2. Teeth clicking: Again, another one that is difficult to spot if you are a new rabbit owner. Rabbits will click their teeth, or purr, when they are content and happy, particularly if you are stroking them. However, they will also click and grind their teeth very loudly when they are in pain – I guess it’s their way of groaning or whimpering. Whilst he was clicking when I was stroking him, again, something just didn’t sound right.
3. Not eating or drinking: When rabbits are in pain or distress, they tend to stop eating and drinking. This is extremely bad because rabbits need to have a constant, one way flow, of their digestive system. They also do not have the ability to vomit. They need to constantly be eating to then pass healthy poops – the ones that look like the little marbles – and anything that needs to be out of their system. If they stop eating, then that leads to point number 4…
4. Not pooping: When rabbits stop eating then the digestive tract stops flowing healthily and it comes to a stop and can cause a blockage. This is known as Gastrointestinal (GI)/gut stasis. This then builds up bacteria and gasses which bloat the rabbits gut and put pressure on other internal organs.

Essentially, this is what appears to have happened to Ponyo. Unfortunately, at this point we are not sure why as GI stasis isn’t a cause, it’s a condition which appears from something which has caused the rabbit to stop eating. When the vet listened to his stomach it had deep gurgling sounds which, my understanding is, represents gasses. His abdomen was also slightly distended therefore this will cause the discomfort and will explain why he was hunched up consistently as opposed to his usual lying down flat, belly to the floor.

The vet endeavoured to put our minds at ease and commended us for noticing the symptoms very quickly, and for making the decision to bring him in then, as opposed to waiting until this morning. GI Stasis in rabbits, if left for too long, can be hard to treat or can even be fatal. Kamen fed them both yesterday morning and Ponyo was fine then actually, so thankfully it had only been around 15 hours from his last feed to when we took him to the vet.

So, an overnight stay admitted, and an estimate for a circa £320 vet bill – who knew such a small animal would cost so much money when needing emergency care!? – we left Ponyo to be taken care of by the lovely vets at the Braid Vets hospital. We called the vet we spoke to last night at 7:30 this morning and she advised that there had been no change. He hadn’t pooped yet, he still wasn’t eating any solid foods and he was still stressed out – Ponyo through and through, he freaks out at the sound of a plastic bag; but he hadn’t gotten worse, which is a good sign I suppose. Like a lot of rabbits, I guess, Ponyo doesn’t eat when he’s stressed, so I am a little worried about that.

We are due to call them back at around 1pm to see how he is getting on. They are going to continue pushing fluids and liquid feeding. Hopefully he starts eating and pooping so we can collect him this afternoon/evening.

A bit of a sh*t way to start the weekend and I will be sitting on the edge of the couch like an anxious mother waiting for her child to come home. The last time I was this worried was when Hime had to have emergency care after her spaying operation. She didn’t eat when we brought her home due to the pain from her op, therefore the risk of GI stasis was present too.

Ponyo in a normal ‘loaf’ position.

Whilst this is a very common rabbit ailment, as aforementioned, it can be life threatening. If you do have a rabbit at home, and haven’t experienced anything like this before, just be extremely wary of your rabbit’s behaviours – it can be crucial.

Robyn ♥

 

That Friday Feeling; Friend or Foe?

That Friday feeling. When you work a Monday to Friday job there is usually nothing better than when the end of your work day on a Friday – which for me is 3:30pm – comes round and you are practically skipping out the door.

For the first time that week, everybody in the office is your best friend and you are singing ‘byeeeee’ as you leave and wishing everyone a good weekend – essentially the complete polar opposite to how you greet them on a Monday morning. I’m a bit smug on account that when I leave, a lot of staff are still working as they don’t finish until 5pm – gimme a break guys, I am in at the crack of dawn at 7:30am!

Whilst I so look forward to a Friday night, and the weekend in general, I can’t always say that my weekends are fulfilled. I do sometimes walk back into work on the Monday morning and think, “What the actual f**k did I do with my time off!?”. This was one of many matters I discussed with my therapist this year – the fact that when I do have time on my hands, I’m not utilising the time appropriately to do the things I, apparently, really enjoy doing. I guess old habits die hard when you have had bouts of depression where doing anything, even something considered enjoyable and fulfilling, can be tasking.

The easy thing about going to work is you have a job to do and, well if you don’t, you get fired – it’s as simple as that. There is no option for you to sit with your thoughts and hope that your day starts without you actually putting the work in. I actually find life outside of work more challenging, which is why I found I struggled more being at home when I was signed off work sick for a period several years ago. I have found that I can’t always be trusted to find my own sense of contentment.

Hopefully this is something that writing again can help with, give me some form of a sense of enjoyment and purpose as opposed to staring into space whilst being the potato on the couch wishing for something to happen.

Thankfully tonight I have my husband coming home with some alcoholic beverages and then I’m going to start the new The Dark Pictures Anthology: Man of Madan game that was just realised today by Supermassive Games. I have been so looking forward to this game coming out after playing Until Dawn around a year/two years ago. I must admit I’m not very good at these games, I think I managed to keep two of the six characters alive from the Until Dawn game which is hopefully not a reflection to how I would cope with a similar situation in real life…

I hope that whatever you are doing, whether it is working or at home, that you are having a great Friday!

Robyn ♥

 

Social Anxiety, Claustrophobia and The Most Wonderful Time In Edinburgh; The Fringe

The Edinburgh Fringe Festival; nearly every resident in Edinburgh’s worst nightmare. What’s worse, it lasts four whole weeks every year!

Some of you will know about the Fringe festival, heck some of you have likely visited Edinburgh to enjoy what the festival for the creative arts has to offer.

For me, it’s the one month out of the year where I really, really, wished that humans hibernated, but got to choose when to hibernate. I actually dread August and when it’s over, I want to take a nice long nap to recover.

I know some of you must be thinking “Miserable b*tch”. I probably am actually but, if you lived here, and you were someone like me, you would probably understand.

I suffer from social anxiety and claustrophobia, meaning that trying to walk down a busy street where there are street performers involving passers by can cause me to go into a bit of a spin. I’m practically running past them and, you probably guessed it, I never run. That in itself shows the dedication to get home to my comfy space of peace and quiet. You can’t eat anywhere, drink comfortably in pubs or bars…even getting the bus is a struggle.

Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate that events like this are a dream come true for some of the creatives participating, it brings culture and tourism to Edinburgh and it also helps people, particularly students, get a temporary job which involves being around people and excitement and fun.

However, suffice it to say, I am extremely happy to be watching the boards and the posters which have, dare I say it, brightened up our city begin to come down.

So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, f**k off! 

I mean, would you want to walk home after a hard days work through this:

Photo credit Jane Barlow / PA – The Scotsman

So yes, that’s the festival over for another year and it will be my second year in a row that I didn’t attend a show or event. Kamen did, he went to an event that they have on at the National Museum of Scotland last Friday night. It’s a bit of a variety show where you can drink alcohol and also explore the museum – I would be off doing the two latter things and running away from the busy crowds, had I been there. Instead I ordered Dominos pizza, finished an illustration I was working on and watched too many videos of Brad Mondo’s hair fail reaction videos – which I highly recommend you watch, especially if you have worked in the hair industry.

A bit of a short and sweet post today but just really wanted to express my gratitude that the busiest month of the year for my hometown has come to another close.

Robyn ♥

 

Mental Health Detriment; When My Life Stopped Going North

As promised…to myself…here I am, writing for a second day in a row!

Granted my arse is planted firmly on my couch – I really should go to the gym – but I’m making progress to at least committing to one thing at a time. We can work my way back to my desk one day…

Let’s talk mental health! In my last post I touched on the matter that for the last five years, my mental health has taken a huge dip. Thankfully, if my mental health was scaled on a graph, it would definitely be on the positive side. Phew – my share price is going up again…

I’ll just start from the beginning. Unfortunately having extreme bouts of anxiety for prolonged periods of time has meant that my memory isn’t fantastic – which is probably a good thing for you reading as we would be here for days – but I can, unfortunately, still remember the bad bits.

Nearly five years ago, I had my first panic attack. Now, I already had a nervous disposition but this was something I had never experienced before. It also came out of nowhere! It blew the doors of my life off its hinges despite lack of invitation. I was on the way to work on the bus one morning and I suddenly started to feel odd. Indescribably odd, like I wasn’t really there. Then around one hundred thoughts raced through my mind but the one that stuck out the most was “I’m dying”. Just like that, my mind decided that I was dying on this bus and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Thankfully the entire attack didn’t last very long, around thirty seconds – even though it felt much longer. I then text my husband (boyfriend at the time) and simply stated “I’ve just had a panic attack.” The text was literally as simple as that, as though someone had just slightly bumped into me in the street.

Now, to analyse the situation, as aforementioned I already had a nervous disposition. At that point in my life I also had just started at a new job and I was just about to move in with Kamen. Suffice it to say, I was a wee bit stressed.

“Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.” – Henry David Thoreau

Unfortunately I couldn’t just watch it simply float on by after that day, it gripped onto me like a vice; there was nothing I could do but let it happen. This meant that for a while I couldn’t do a lot of things on my own such as: getting on a bus or any public transport, simply leaving the house to nip to the shop or walking too far on my own. This was extremely detrimental which ultimately meant I got sacked from my job. The latter wasn’t as dramatic as it sounds, especially looking back on it, I simply didn’t pass the horrendous six month probation period as I struggled with: a. getting into work and b. hitting sales targets, when I did make it into work.

Kamen became what I like to refer to as my “safety person”. He was the only person I truly trusted to leave the house with as I – or my mind, which I always preferred to refer to as a separate entity, probably not a good thing huh? – genuinely believed if I was to suddenly have a heart attack, or have a stroke, then he would know what to do.

It took me many months to actually seek help as I thought it would simply go away. Unfortunately the initial GP who seen to me thought I simply wanted medication – I didn’t and still actually haven’t attempted the medication route to this day – and then, in a polite way I suppose, shunned me by providing me with leaflets about mental health and sent me on my way.

I probably don’t need to emphasise that I didn’t feel even 0.0000001% better than when I went in.

I should state that I appreciate that GPs are not mental health physicians. They cannot officially diagnose you for such matters but are extremely helpful, and experienced, with ruling out other potential underlying physical health issues before possibly alluding that you have some form of mental health issue, and then suggest you seek further advice from an experienced physician in that particular field.

A year went by and then along came the stinking, soul sucking, horrifying, black cloud that is depression. My body and my mind was exhausted from being anxious 24/7. At this point I was in college, and was actually writing this blog. I had not one iota amount of energy and struggled to even get out of bed in the morning. I cried constantly and felt completely worthless and alone. I still did pretty good with my college course, and completed the end of year project assignment with positive grades. I also then went on to work full time, in the current job I’m in actually, and I was really good at the job. Even though depression was still ever present, it was just lurking in the background. I suppose that’s what depression does, waits for something good to happen to you and then jumps out to remind you that you are a complete failure and are completely useless to yourself and everyone around you.

For me, that time was last year; the year I was getting married. I was also working really hard with studies to achieve a financial qualification which I got to do through work. It started to creep back in slowly and it was only when I noticed I was crying every day again and finding the simplest of tasks a struggle that I realised that the black cloud had returned. Despite our efforts to put together money for our wedding, Kamen encouraged me to seek therapy. The first therapist I tried was lovely however, after several sessions I found that I wasn’t finding the particular methods she approached very useful, which is fine. Different approaches of therapy work differently for people. The most challenging thing with regards to mental health is there is no one-size-fits-all. With that, there was a bit of a hiatus on account of needing money quickly for the big day.

The post wedding buzz is what kept me going for a while. The “I’m a wifey” status glowed brighter than the rings that were put on my finger. But then came the comedown. The norms of every day life began to settle back in and, I realised that I have essentially spent the last five years of my life masking the problems in my life. Which now takes me to January this year. I had been struggling with sleep for some time, but it really took a turn for the worse when my anxiety started to build up again and meant that I was finding it extremely tasking to make it in to work to begin my day at 7:30am after still watching the clock at 3:30am.

I decided to go back to therapy.

“We can’t solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them” – Albert Einstein

I met Moira, my Cognitive Behavioural Therapist. She was the light at the end of my very long tunnel. Don’t get me wrong, it isn’t a miracle cure, but she certainly provided me with the tools to begin my journey of a pursuit of contentment with life. We explored my childhood and all the ideologies I developed as a teenager, then talked about what was going on in my life now and why the things that happened in my childhood are a link to my coping mechanisms now. It also helped that she was lovely, she has such a warm personality that the second I met her, I trusted her.

I met Moira pretty much every Thursday at 4pm, for an hour session, for 5 months. I didn’t think I would have such structured therapy for so long but I really needed it. Turns out there was a lot of deep sea diving exploration to be had, and I should have done it moons ago.

Now, I’m simply trying to find a purpose for myself as I don’t want to be simply “wife of Kamen”. I’m feeling a lot better with the things that were weighing me down for so long therefore it’s allowing me to have some breathing space.

Most young adults in this day and age either experience a mental health issue, or are currently experiencing mental health issues. Why wouldn’t we? The world is a pretty f**ked up place, and it only seems to get uglier.

The one piece of advice I would give to anyone is do not go through this alone, seek help! It does not just go away and will only, likely, get worse over time. Talk to a loved one, if you haven’t already. Pester your doctor, and pester them again. Get medication if needed. If you have the money, try therapy. Try coming back to earth once in a while and doing some self care yourself. Do the thing you really enjoy doing, even if it seems like the most impossible thing to do at the moment. Just don’t simply give up, your mind won’t thank you for it.

This takes me to the end of my story time. I don’t have any intention for all my blog posts being this long however, it has been a while since I have alluded to anyone the extent of the detriment that my mental health caused me. Was it the worst version of it? No. Are there people worse off than me? Of course! However, we cannot spend every minute of every day constantly thinking, ‘I feel like crap today because I had a really bad anxiety attack but, you know what, there is someone worse off than me therefore I need to be okay’. It’s okay to not be okay, and everybody’s feelings and journeys are different. Does not make them any more or any less than the next person.

If you are experiencing any mental health issues, take good care of yourself.

Robyn ♥

I’M BACK! Not that anyone probably even noticed I was gone…

It’s been a hot minute since my last post.

The last time I posted was back in 2016 and I don’t even have anything to show for it then because I was silly enough to delete my last posts.

It feels like for the last three years I have been having one of those “millennial crisis” things they talk about (can I call it that when I’m 27?). I have a full time job which I have excelled at, my husband (yup, the poor bugger, who I used to refer to on here as ‘my partner in crime’, married me) and I are about to secure our first home, and I have two beautiful rabbits who I absolutely adore however, for some reason I have still spent the last three years simply floating around, not quite sure what my purpose is.

In the last three years I have wanted to be an illustrator, coding expert, IT professional, counsellor – the list goes on, and even more ludicrous.

“The beautiful part about writing is that you don’t have to get it right first time, unlike say, a brain surgeon” – Robert Cormier.

Just recently, I have realised that I miss writing. I have missed coming on here and writing a small blog post a day, using The Daily Post Word Prompts (which I have just spotted came to a grinding halt back in May last year…). I have missed focusing on all the little assignments that I did for my media course, which is actually what encouraged me to start this blog in the first place.

The main niche for my blog back in 2016 was discussing my recovery from anxiety and depression, which I’m happy to talk about in a separate post as that was a seriously hot steaming pile of crap part of my life. Thankfully now, I seem to be a lot better, thanks to several sessions of cognitive behavioural therapy and numerous stones in weight gain thanks to Mr Cadbury…

So the first thing I’m going to try and commit to is to write at least one blog post a day for the next month. I would love to commit to an entire 365 days however, my therapist told me to stop setting the bar too high with certain goals. This is definitely another one of the reasons why I am X number of stones heavier than I would prefer to be – the idea of committing myself to the gym for more than a day automatically makes me want to return to that favourite spot on the couch and ingest copious amounts of sugary sweet treats whilst my thighs scream at me to stop.

So, whoever you are, I hope you enjoy my posts to come and glad to be sharing this resurrection with you.

Robyn ♥