Thank You Adele

I wanted to take a moment to thank Adele for releasing her new song ‘Hello’. It’s a beautiful song and of course her amazing talent shines through. If you’ve not listened to it yet, then I really urge you to go and do that now! The main reason I wanted to say my thanks was because it’s a song that seemed to reach inside of me and really take a bit of what I’ve been trying to say and put it into the most beautiful words. I love music and singing, but it’s been a while since I really felt a song this much. According to a review by The Telegraph; Hello offers a glimpse into Adele’s inner private sphere, singing of loss and regret, of loss and attempts to rekindle friendships that have drifted a

One Week Since Mum Died

Half past twelve today marked one week since Mum died. It’s been a strange week. I both can’t believe it’s been a whole week since Mum died, and can’t believe it’s only been a week since Mum died. Time is weird. As each day goes by, I am constantly amazed and humbled by people’s incredible kindness. Looking around my uni room I can see cards, letters, chocolates, flowers, and a teddy. I know that when I go home tomorrow there will be more flowers, cards and little gifts from people. I have received more hugs and offers of help than I can count. I have had texts, tweets, Facebook messages, emails, phone calls, visits, and comments on my blog. People are incredible.​ I naively thought that whe

The First Days of Grief

Mum died on Friday. ​She had a ‘good death’. Those in palliative medicine define a ‘good death’ as one where the dying person is symptom free, in the place they want to be, with the people they want to be with. Mum died symptom free, in our lounge, with Dad by her side. Saying ‘Mum died’ might seem blunt to some, but that’s what happened. Mum worked in palliative medicine all of her life and as a family we’ve always spoken about death and end of life care openly and honestly, so it seems only appropriate that we continue that when discussing Mum’s death. It’s been a few days since she died now, and everything’s a bit weird. Time seems to have become somewhat fluid and lost any sense of meani

Mindfulness: A Way To Manage Waiting Room Anxiety

I know how tough waiting rooms can be, how the seconds feel like hours as you wait to be weighed at the eating disorder clinic or you wait for your psychologist to call you in for your session and especially when you're at your GP after realising there is a problem. I've spent many years sat in waiting rooms and I still find it anxiety provoking and difficult but I've come up with a technique to help me stay in the moment and I wanted to share it with you. ​Firstly: The ABC game. Find something in the room beginning with A, B, C, D all the way through to Z. No cheating, no skipping letters. Yes X is difficult but look on posters and you might find it. Secondly: If you are still waiting after

Mum Passed Away Yesterday

Ever since I started writing about Mum’s illness, part of my brain must have known that I would have to write this post at some point, but it doesn’t make it any easier to write. At lunchtime yesterday, Mum passed away. It was very quick and Dad was by her side. Dad rang me at uni. Even though I knew as soon as I saw his name on my phone screen, and even though I’d known this was coming, it doesn’t make it any less of a surprise. Mum seemed a little better the night before – if not better, at least the same as the previous night, a stark difference from the rest of the week where she seemed to deteriorate noticeably every 24 hours. A week or so ago I arranged for someone to contact a list of

Panic Can Be Silent

Today I panicked. It had been building up I think, ethics deadline, work, uni work… I’m on top of it but it’s scary and there’s a lot of it. There were definite vulnerability factors… My asthma had been a bit bad yesterday and I had an aware So I panicked, the term so far at uni getting on top of me a little, the car park wasn’t really the issue but it was the catalyst. I don’t really panic visibly… You might not realise if you looked at me. My panic exists as a frozen feeling inside. Like the moment someone tells you bad news and all the blood drains from your body and you can’t move or really breath or do anything. Like when you miss a step on the stairs but lasting for minutes on end. Eve

Re-Integrating With The World Is Difficult

After spending quite some time in a psychiatric ward, I am finding it difficult to re-integrate with the world around me. It’s like the volume of the world has tripled and I struggle with the noise of a supermarket. There’s too much noise everywhere I go. It’s cold everywhere too, I’m used to the warmth of the ward and my legs get tired walking because they haven’t done much for so long. I’ve been away for a while and I wonder if my friends are still my friends and if people will remember me when I return to ballet and ice skating. Does anyone even notice that I’m gone? Nothing feels the same anymore. It was summer when I went into hospital but now the seasons have changed and it’s Autumn an

Shared Rooms In Psychiatric Wards Do Not Work

One of my biggest worries when I am being admitted to hospital for my mental illness is that I will have to share a room. It’s not fair on the other patients and it’s not fair on me because when I am unwell I try to harm myself or take my own life in whichever way seems possible. It isn’t fair that other unwell people have to see that and neither is it fair that they have to witness me being restrained and injected. Shared rooms make patient’s dig People are not admitted to psychiatric wards for mild symptoms, everybody on the ward is very unwell and each patient needs their own space. If I need a good cry then I would like to have a wall between me and the other patients. If I need to talk

What Is It Like To Feel Suicidal?

It’s like the world has lost all colour, everything seems black and white. The orange in the Autumn leaves has faded to a dirty grey, the grass is no longer green. Did I even notice the grass? Did I even notice the ground I was walking on? It’s claustrophobic, like the whole world has collapsed onto me and I can feel it’s weight restricting me, laying heavy on me and making any motion difficult. The ten fingers I write with no longer have anything to say. Even breathing feels like too much hard work. There’s no enjoyment anymore. I can’t concentrate on anything and when I do the pleasure is no longer there. Sometimes I do things like allow myself a chocolate whilst my mind acknowledges that

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