But What If I fail?

I'm staring at the screen, wishing the words would come easier. They're there, wrapped up in some part of my head that feels a little unaccessible at the moment. The wrapping; layers of self doubt, perfectionism and pressure... winding around them tightly. Writing should come easily, I do it every day as part of my job; and yet when the pressure is on, it seems a much more difficult task. I'm used to deadlines, it comes part and parcel of working in content and media. It's strange that those kind of deadlines seem so run of the mill. Perhaps it's the level of anonymity that I can hide behind when I write for the website where I can become the voice of the organisation. In reality it is still

My Lifelong Battle with Eating Disorders

My battle with mental illness began at such a young age that I don’t really know what it’s like not to have one. I became fearful and anxious around food when I was five years old. After seeing a family member become unwell I thought that I would become poorly if I ate food too. 'I was geeky, ugly and hated myself' As I grew older food became more of an issue. First it was about fear, then it was about perfectionism and control. By the end of primary school not eating had become my identity. Other children in my class were good at PE or art or maths. I was known for eating “like a bird” and I finally felt like I had a something that I could do. Secondary school complicated life even more. I

6 Months

It’s 6 months today since Mum died. There aren’t really any words to put to it. It’s just a fact. A lot has changed in the past 6 months. I live somewhere new, I’ve made new friends, I’ve lost a few friends, I stopped going to uni and started volunteering at a few places and doing a course at Mind, I started a new job, and I’m slowly trying to develop some sort of a social life. There have been some great things and some not-so-great things. I thought maybe I’d start to miss Mum a little less, but at the moment I seem to be missing her more and more. I’m not sure why, perhaps it’s the weather, who knows. 6 months-post death and people stop asking. Not a criticism on anyone, life moves on, pe

'But You Don't Look Depressed?'

It's Depression Awareness Week this week. Mental health is not something I usually blog about (explicitly) but hey, there's a first time for everything. Depression is arguably more talked about now than it was a few years ago. It seems to be one of the more accepted mental illnesses. I think most people have had at least one day in their life where they've felt almost inexplicably completely bummed out, so it is something many people feel they can relate to on some level. Being depressed and having depression are very different, though. I've had depression as long as I can remember; I've been diagnosed with it since my early teens. Most people in my life probably don't know I have depression

The Great Grief Identity Crisis

I'm having a bit of an identity crisis. I've always defined myself by what I do, or how I relate to others, but it all seems to be a bit mixed up right now. I'm not at uni, so I'm not a student. I am working, so I am employed, but only one day a week, so that always leads to questions about what I do with the other six days... I am a daughter, though one without a Mum. I am a niece, sister, cousin and granddaughter, but none of these are really talking points. People keep telling me I'm like Mum. That they can see Mum in me; in my looks, my personality, my values. But I am not Mum. I am not and never will be Mum. I do not have the same ambitions as Mum had. I do not have the same desire to b

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