This is still me ❤️

Last Thursday, I spent an enjoyable day relaxing around the pool reading my latest book Hostage by Clare Macintosh. Probably not the best book to be reading when I have a 9-hour flight ahead of me next week but oh well. It was very good. In the evening, we had booked a Japanese tepanyaki restaurant for dinner and were heading to an Irish bar for drinks before. We do love an Irish bar and manage to find one on almost every holiday, it’s only a matter of time before Cuba and the Maldives get one! After a delicious dinner, we headed back to Murphy's bar and I was by now drunk enough to partake in some karaoke, I was shortly followed by a former pop idol & ex-factor applicant sterling, so if at any point, I had thought my singing was passable, I didn’t after that! The following day, I felt so ill! Was this food poisoning or just a hangover? I hadn’t drunk that much, no more than I had drank the weekend before I went away. I spent most of the morning feeling like I was on one

Why haven't I learned my lesson? Last Friday morning, whilst scrolling through my phone, I was thinking about what a crappy year a lot of people were having. 2022 seemed to have brought some terrible luck for some. I then began to reflect on my 2022 and realised that a lot of pretty shit stuff happened in my life too. Why wasn't I feeling miserable? I thought more about this. There have been some extremely low times this year, but my ability to bounce back from these has reached a strength I never thought possible for me. I am not trying to make out that I am some serene, zen, being; I still have my moments, but even how I view those are different. When bad times come, I still get upset, I show my emotions, I shout, I scream, I cry for as long as I need to, but somehow, deep down, I am safe in the knowledge that things will get better and knowing that is like my lifeboat, something for me to swim towards when I am drowning in those choppy waters. On Saturday, the husband

Over the last few weeks, I've been spending about 90% of my waking moments working towards my goal of writing for a living. I wake up and am straight online posting on platforms that I am unable to schedule posts on (or haven't learned how to yet) I could wait until later in the day, but I find that a lot of people read posts first thing, myself included. I meditate, do my self-reflection and review my to-do list for the day, apart from writing, I read other people's articles and engage with other writers on the platforms as practically all the articles and books I've read say this is a huge factor in being a successful writer, it's something I've found surprisingly fun. On top of this, I'm trying (and failing) to keep a clean and tidy home, cook dinners, see friends and family, and generally have a life. I'm not complaining, I bloody love it. I finally feel like I have a purpose. However, me being me, I have given myself a rather large to-do list, t

As always, I hope that someone may take comfort in these posts and realise that they are not alone. I originally started writing blog posts on WordPress back in 2017. I have finally imported everything over to Medium, which took a while! I am now in the process of reviewing the older posts and rewriting them, my writing has improved rather a lot since then! I’m still keeping all the original versions on WordPress for nostalgic reasons but I wanted to reshare some of those posts, This week, I want to share some posts about mental health and the start of my journey with anxiety. How I was diagnosed with General Anxiety Disorder. How My Anxious Mind Affects My Self Esteem Want To Increase The Worrying In Your Mind? Get Divorced What Happens When Getting The Wrong Help Causes You More Worry

Will it be as bad as I think? Today, the husband and I celebrate our 4th Wedding Anniversary & things finally feel like they are settling back down again, after a hectic few weeks. Last Friday, I was sent into a bit of a panic. Toby was a bit sick in the morning, not usually a cause for concern as I have read that cats can be sick if they eat too quickly, but he seemed fine. A couple of hours later, he was sick again and by midday, he was barely lifting his head and was completely listless. I was quite worried now as there are lots of things that are toxic to cats and I didn't know if he had eaten anything he shouldn't have during the night. I decided to call the vet, who asked me to bring him in straight away. Toby got into his carrier without a struggle, which is unusual and he didn't make a sound on the journey, which is also unusual. He usually likes to loudly complain. The vet sees us straight away and he just sits there whilst she examines him, still quiet as a

Another week, another mood…or two I feel like my moods are a bit of Russian roulette at the moment. When will the gun go off? Last Friday, after an anxious week of worrying about the fact my contract had been pushed back a week, I decided to walk to my counselling session. I am well versed by now in self-care, but I am not well versed in the art of patience. I know doing some gentle exercise will help my mindset, but during my walk, I didn’t feel ecstatically after 5 minutes, so I spent the first part of the walk feeling pretty miserable, wishing I had just driven instead. During my walk, the first glimmer of light came about 15 minutes in when I saw this little patch of wildflowers growing by the side of the road. I hadn’t noticed it whilst driving and just seeing that, made me feel a little bit happier. Just as I was about 5 minutes from my session, the joy of flowers now forgotten, I got a text from my friend, I had referred her for a role on the same contract as me and she had

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Even after the love has gone. Part of my anxiety means that I cannot be late. This is such a major dilemma in my relationship, as my boyfriend has no concept of time whatsoever, often leaving home at the time he’s supposed to be somewhere, I on the other hand like to be at least 10 minutes early, I allow for traffic etc. If I am late it sends me into a meltdown and it's caused so many arguments between us. My punctuality went in my favour on the day I went to see the solicitor as I couldn’t bloody find it. I walked up and down the high street about 3 times before noticing it nestled between Lloyd’s Bank and the Pound Shop. I pressed the buzzer, no answer. Barry pops up in my head! “What if they have mixed up my appointment?” “What if he’s off sick today?” Arrrrrrgh. Luckily before I could respond to Barry or talk to myself in the high street, two people arrived at the door with coffee. “Hi, I have an appointment with David Beckham at 9 am” bless the girl for not even flinchi

The thing with anxiety is, that it’s always there, it’s never going away. The techniques I learned at my CBT sessions are great and do work, but you do have to work at it. I got a bit lazy. I finished the therapy in March, carried on doing the minimum (meditation etc) then there was a birthday and then we were off on holiday, great right? Not for Barry . I was feeling insecure, so instead of lying by the pool relaxing, I was comparing myself to everyone around the pool, thinking that my boyfriend probably wished I looked better. Why don’t I take care of myself more? All this whilst sipping several Pina Coladas I might add. I hated myself. All these negative thoughts I was having about myself were draining me, looking back now, I can see I was slowly slipping into a hole. I tried to put a brave face on but inside I was feeling quite sad, I put it down to hormones and got on with the holiday. About 6 weeks later, I received a letter from my ex-husband’s solicitor officially starti

Mental health is so confusing There are going to be a lot of acronyms flying around in this post, so please try to bear with me. So I had booked my lunchtime appointment with the CBT therapist (cognitive behavioural therapist) I was nervous and wasn’t sure what to expect. I had only told my boyfriend and the friend who had told me about CBT, I didn’t want anyone to know, I was quite embarrassed, I wasn’t mentally stable! The session was in an old fashioned building, hidden down a little side street in the City of London, I had to climb about 100 stairs, I was out of breath by the time I got to the first floor and all hot and flustered. I sat in the waiting area, half of me eager to rid myself of the craziness, the other half wanting to run out of the door and hide from it all. Then my therapist came out, she was lovely and put me at ease straight away. I explained that I thought I had OCD and why I thought that, I explained my temperament, the constant worrying and she told me th