I’ll be me [Mental Health – Part 1]

Here’s a long post, read it if you have time. Like 5 minutes, realistically.

Also: If you can figure out what’s written on that notepad, I’ll dedicate a post to you.

So.

What am I doing these days.

Well.

First of all, I’m going to try my hardest not to incorporate my infamous self depreciating humour into this post, even though that is my biggest coping mechanism.

These days I’m reading, writing, researching, and listening to a lot of James Bay.

And I’m thinking.

I’m doing a lot of thinking, but I’m also doing a lot of …just … not thinking.

In other words: I’m keeping myself as busy as I can.

I try not to write about mental health, even though I should, because almost every blog I visit has posts about ‘dealing with depression’ or ‘dealing with anxiety’ or just ‘mental health’. And it makes me wonder how many of these people really do suffer from these issues, or if they’re just self diagnosed. As someone who has doctors referring them to therapists and pestering them to take anti-depressants, it’s a bit … I don’t know. Annoying. It’s the reason I don’t enjoy speaking about my own mental health. I think I’m fine, but I’ll never deny that anxiety is my biggest enemy.

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6 ways to combat blogger’s block

Ahhh yes. Blogger’s block. It hits the best of us, it’s so frustrating, it’s the worst. It’s even worse when you have a post planned out and you’re like ‘nah. I can’t be bothered’. And into your drafts it goes. Along with the 200 other drafts.

The reason I can write this post is because I know exactly what to do, but my brain is just nope. So, I thought it best to publicise my solutions in the hope that other peoples brains aren’t broken and can actually follow this advice! Here we go.

Write a review

Easy. Probably the easiest type of post ever. Read a book, watch a movie, listen to an album, try a new product. And honestly, I don’t feel like you can ever have enough reviews. Except about makeup. We really don’t need that many reviews of the Naked palettes. Please, for the love of God, stop swatching every shade on your arm, I have seen this 40 times.

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The sun goes down (20/03/1976 – 20/07/2017)

Imagine.

Imagine I almost cried when I read Chester Bennington’s note to Chris Cornell after his death. Imagine I write a tribute to Chris Cornell on his birthday. And on that same goddamn day, Chester Bennington is found dead.

Chester fucking Bennington.

Honestly, I’m distraught. I wrote in the last post that Chris Cornell’s death was the only one to affect me. Well, girls and boys, make that one of TWO deaths to affect me.

Let me tell you that Linkin Park were a big part of my entire child/teenhood. My entire. Teenhood.

God.

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Every line in your palm [June Journal]

13/06/2017

Today’s prompt: What is home?

Home is walking through the doors and leaving all pressures, all standards and requirements at the entrance. It’s being free from prying eyes and worrying if you’ve accidentally pulled your socks over your leggings. It’s being free from dreading another human being talking to you or asking you a question when you’re just trying to get home please leave me alone.

It’s taking off your hijab, it’s taking off any fancy clothes, it’s taking off the uncomfortable shoes and it’s changing into baggy sweatpants and a hole-ridden hoodie. It’s giving yourself a head massage and tying your hair back up, washing your face of grime and pollution and freeing yourself from the worry that there’s lipstick on your teeth, or that your foundation is sliding off.

It’s grabbing all the snacks you can find and falling down onto the sofa in a blanket. It’s turning on the tv and watching cartoons whilst stuffing your face with sausage rolls, crisps and yoghurt after a day of carrying yourself with an air of dignified wisdom. It’s whinging, howling with laughter and burping out loud after a day of stifling your sneezes and being careful not to laugh too loud.

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Reasons your twenties aren’t so bad

I mean, I’m not qualified enough to talk about what it’s like being in your twenties, as I’ve only just about existed for over two decades. Two whole decades. Wow.

But life doesn’t change that much between 21 and 25 right? [It does]. I’m not a teenager anymore and, though I still live with my parents and have yet to finish my degree and start adulting, I feel ready for adulthood. In my mind, I am a fully grown 27 year old woman. Where are my children.

Basically, your early 20s are great. Because you’re an adult [yeah, you still can’t sit with the adults when you’re 18], BUT you’re not adult enough to do the adult things required of a 25 year old. Like have a stable career and 65 children. You’re an adult but you’re still forgiven for being a child. Amazing. Let’s begin.  Continue reading

A Letter to my Son

Last year, I wrote a letter to my daughter. Then a letter to my younger self. I think it’s only fair I do a letter to my son too. Here goes nothing, unedited.

Dear Snotbag,

I didn’t name you that, fyi. I’m not qualified to advise you based on experience, and whilst everybody knows that experience is the best teacher, it’s pretty much useless when it’s coming from another person. But I don’t need to be a man, or to have known many men in order to build a perfect prototype, as I already know it.

Where do I start? Perhaps on what it means to ‘be a man’. We live in an age where men are pressured to be rugged and masculine, but also to disregard this stereotype and douse their beards in glitter and slay that eyeliner whilst crying. Where men must be cold, ruthless cheaters in order to gain an approving slap on the back by his fellow boys, whilst secretly wishing to have someone they can come home to at night and feel safe with. We live in an age where a man is only defined as a man by how many things on the checklist of stereotypical manliness he has ticked off, rather than the achievements that nobody sees.

Money? Check
Car? Check
Beard? Check
Women? Check

If you want to be a shell of a man, go ahead and abide by that list. If you want to be a man, throw it away. We live in an age where image is everything. Don’t be that man. Because that isn’t a man, it’s a boy.

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What I’m Reading [July]

I’m hoping there are other people like me, because I am an idiot. Throughout my first two years of university I, once an avid bookworm and arguable favourite of the English literature department at school, began to loathe reading. I even subscribed to TWO analysis websites [yes, I paid for them] just so I wouldn’t have to actually read the books and do any work. And then I realised that we actually had to do work in preparation for class, so I just didn’t turn up. What a role model I am.

Anyway, I’ve always been a stubborn mule and the summer holidays are proof of this, because I’m now currently reading four different books. Or I was at the time of writing this.

It’s like this: tell me to do it and I won’t. I’ll do it if and when I want. The books that I’m currently reading are WILDLY different to each other, and I like to do this so that I can move onto something different; when non-fiction gets too heavy I can move onto gothic to give me a drastically different setting, and then onto crime to bring me nicely back into the real world. Here’s what I’m reading.

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10 things to make you feel better. Instantly.

Ramadan is almost over, and what are these blues?

Although I’m finally on top of things, academically, I still feel swamped in other things that I have yet to do. Perhaps the feeling of inadequacy and impending doom is embedded within me now?    I’ve been off uni for so long and the only place I’ve been to is a drive thru at 2am. Once. Amazing.

Anyway. The reason I’m not being productive where it matters most is because I literally cannot function properly when my mood is too low. I am like a sim. I cannot work, play or talk when I’m not at an adequate level of happiness. Unfortunately, however, we humans do not have a magic llama and must suffer fairly through this game called life. I have, therefore, compiled a list of things that I feel might help provide temporary relief for that red plumbob hovering over your head. Bear in mind that I am the most miserable person in the world*, so if any of these work for me, they’re bound to work for you.

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Storytime

Don’t you just LOVE thunderstorms? It’s currently 1am here and I’m enjoying the sounds of rolling thunder gently overshadowing the sounds of the Big Bang Theory. I say rolling thunder, but it sounds like someone in the sky is continuously opening and closing some sliding wardrobe doors. And I know I’m posting too much, but the situation has presented itself, and I have a rain-influenced story to tell.

So this incident happened, and I will forever remember this godforsaken memory because it is the day of my brothers birthday.

Anyway

So we left the house early that morning, around 9am, in order to find a birthday present for him [re: a toy], and it was CHUCKING IT. I mean it was pissing down with rain that seemed to just get heavier and heavier the whole time from when we left the house, back to when we stepped back into it.

We found a toy. After much pleading to buy EVERYthing, including a watering can and a mobile drum kit(????), we settled on a somewhat educational/fun toy because I am a fun but grounded older sister (not). On the way back from the shop we decided to stop off at Tesco so I could buy a Betty Crocker red velvet cake mix since I was being too lazy to make one myself, and that’s when it happened. Probably my punishment for thinking Betty could do a better job than me.

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