'My Mum has MS: A Guide'

In 2000, I briefly remember my Mum coming home wearing an eye-patch. I immediately asked her if she was a Pirate to which she replied with a chuckle and explained it was so she could focus more on the road when her eye got bad. I know my Mum was struggling with vision in one of her eyes at the time and the fact she had to wear an eye-patch was actually really amusing to me – being only 6 years old. But slowly, my Mum was taking more trips to the hospital for tests and I started to notice something wasn’t quite right. I remember it quite well and to be honest, I’d say the process of my Mum receiving her diagnosis was the first clear memory I have. I remember on one occasion my Dad picking me up from school and bombing it down the motorway – again, as a 6-year-old, I found it so exciting to leave school early to go pick up my Mum. I remember her sat on a wall and struggling to stand up when we pulled in. I asked my Dad why she was limping and he said she needed to have a big needle injected into her spine to see what was making her poorly. I remember so clearly in that moment that my heart started pounding. I became worried and anxious and realised that eyepatches, playing with crutches and speeding down the motorway couldn’t mask the fact that my Mum was really not well. A few days later, she came home with a booklet. ‘My Mummy has Multiple Sclerosis: A guide’. And, that was the start of a very long journey, a journey that would define all of our lives as a family.

More so as a child, whenever anyone asked what was wrong with my Mum and I told them she had MS, they had no clue what it was. As a teenager, more people knew and some people still asked ‘what’s that?’ Now, when people ask, more often than not, they know what it is but I still find myself giving a brief explanation of the condition. So, I’ll give you guys quick snapshot of the illness – which is pretty easy to understand if you read the NHS website - and how is correlates with my Mum’s health.

Multiple Sclerosis (also knows as MS) is an auto immune condition that attacks the Central Nervous System. Basically, the immune system attacks a healthy part of the body, in this case, the brain and spinal cord. It attacks the layer that surrounds the nerves which can cause them to become damaged, resulting in messages travelling along the nerves to become slow and disrupted. It is a lifelong disease with no cure and can cause serious – and sometimes mild – disability. In terms of a cause, it is seen as genetic and environmental but it’s still unclear really. With only 100,000 sufferers in the UK, it is still rare and because of that, completely under the radar. There are 4 main types of MS but I’ll explain the two most common;

Relapsing-Remitting MS – which is the most common form. This is where they experience flare ups and relapse, resulting in new symptoms appearing and becoming permanent. Imagine a roller-coaster for this one

Secondary-Progressive MS – This is where symptoms worsen over time with no recovery. Most of those who experience RRMS develop this. Imagine the roller-coaster dropping continuously with small breaks in-between. 

Like explained above, there is so many more explanations through google for the condition if you want to find out more. So, now that that’s out of the way, lets get straight back to it.

As a child, I was pretty clueless on what MS and how it affected my Mum, all I knew growing up was that my Mum wasn’t well, was no longer able to work and needed help as and when she could. Daily chores had more meaning now when we knew we were doing them because Mum couldn’t. My mum was first diagnosed with RRMS which has now developed into SPMS. Over time, she deteriorated in many ways and as a family, we accommodated to her needs and helped out. Eventually, having a Mum that was unwell became normal to me and now I can’t even remember a time where she was healthy – but I wouldn’t have her any other way. The only knowledge and experience I have of MS is living with someone who suffers from it and I’ll be the first to tell you that it really isn’t nice to witness. Even more so when it is your parent that suffers and eventually, the roles are reversed and I found myself helping to care for her.

Many of my Mum’s symptoms have developed and changed over time. When she was healthy, she never stopped, she was a powerhouse caring for me and my two brothers and keeping the house going. Her first symptom was losing the sight in her right eye – hence the eyepatch. Then, she began to lose feeling down her right side. Typical stroke symptoms right? Maybe so, but diagnosis was such a long drawn out process for her that I’m sure she’ll agree with me when I say she was relieved to finally know what was wrong. The next 10 years were pretty much the same in the sense that she would suffer a relapse, be administered steroids, perk up a bit and come crashing back down. Because of the steroids, she ballooned in weight which she then lost, which then resulted in another relapse and this became an endless cycle really. I remember on one occasion when I was only in Primary school, where she collapsed for no reason apart from her legs just stopped working. It was just me and her in the house. Instances like that used to – and still do – terrify me. Eventually, my Dad quit his job to become her full time carer – a move that took some serious balls and unconditional love if you ask me. Time passed and Mum needed a wheelchair more often, she needed help with daily tasks and began to struggle with things that you and I would take for granted. I’m not going to go into a huge amount of details, mainly out of respecting my Mum’s privacy, but to slowly lose to ability to do everyday things was heartbreaking to see, and still is. Lets fast forward.

When I was 16, my Mum sat me down and wanted to explain the true extent of her illness and what it would entail for us all going forward. That was the first time I broke down about it. The realisation of what my Mum was going through and what we had to face in the future absolutely terrified me. Me and my Mum have always had a very turbulent relationship all because we clash way too much because we’re so similar and headstrong. But, there's not doubt in my mind that I would be completely lost without her and she really is my best friend. To be told to prepare for carers, complete loss in mobility, becoming a vegetable… No, it was too much for me to handle. So, after 10 years of pushing her illness to the back of my mind, it became the only thing I could think about and focus on. Being told at 16 that my Mum will get worse at a faster rate and the future is unclear, was heartbreaking.

Fast forward another couple of years and I found myself in a place where I accepted what was going to happen and I felt more prepared for it. Hence, coping better. Coping enough to feel comfortable to talk about about with others, the share it with others in the hope that it raises more awareness about the disease. And boy, am I glad I finally got to a stage where I could cope with it because when they say time is a healer, that doesn’t apply the Multiple Sclerosis.

2018, My mum is 51 and has had this condition for 18 years now. Since the dreaded ‘Secondary-Progressive’ development, I have seen a quicker decline, more so now I don’t live with her anymore. Here’s just a brief overview of the shit that lady has been through and I dare anyone to tell me that she’s not a strong lady. Because, god-damn, if I have an ounce of the strength my Mum does then I’m doing ok.

A mini stroke which went unnoticed at first is what led to the diagnosis of SPMS. Stress is the biggest cause of her flare up and the loss of her mum, my lovely Grandma, wouldn’t have helped at all. Along with that came a diagnosis of diabetes, trouble swallowing food, coughing fits – which are like something out of the exorcist I swear - sleep apnoea and a mountain of tablets a day. My Mum is now solely reliant on her wheelchair to get places, even if it’s just to the next room of the house. Spasms galore – honestly trying to paint that woman's toenails is a task and a half whe she can’t help but kick you in the face. Blood pressure checks, blood count checks, eye checks, checks checks checks. Honestly, she spends so much time with her doctors and specialists that she may as well call them friends by now. She need assistance when moving, washing and dressing herself, going to the toilet. Remember I mentioned the day to day things we all take for granted? Over time, we all know as a family that she’s too far advanced now for any treatment to stop symptoms, but rather make life as comfortable and manageable as possible. We laugh about it every now and then because I know if we didn’t, we’d let the sadness of the situation consume us. Whether she’s slurring her words or forgetting names or her uncontrollable leg spasms – you have to laugh.

You could say that because of my Mum’s diagnosis, she is unable to do what your ‘typical’  Mum can. As a child, we could never go abroad, because Mum can’t fly. But, we had the most awesome trips to make up for it and summers were always such a treat. Many women my age are now enjoying a time where they can go for a couple of drinks with their Mum, days out, nights out, holidays away. I, myself, wouldn’t change my Mum for the world – illness and all – but it does sometimes that we can’t do all that stuff. But, instead we have tea together and laugh about life and that’s enough. The one main thing that really does get to me if that fact that my Mum can’t stand for long enough or has the strength in her arms for me to give her a proper hug. But now, we've adapted it where I just lay on top of her when shes on the sofa and that’s our hug. The best hugs in the world.

MS is a devastating illness. Not just for the sufferer, but for those who have to witness the suffering on a regular basis. The main one who does? My Papa. My Dad has literally gone above and beyond for my Mum since she was diagnosed and I’m in awe of what he does every day. The sacrifices he made to be her carer and I tell you something, the man has the patience of a saint because my Mum’s mood swings are like a tornado is in the room – sorry Mum, you know it’s true! For me, I struggle every now and then. Something will happen that makes it all seem a little bit too real and I seem to revert to being a kid again – upset and confused about what’s going to happen. Deep down, we all worry, I know we do and we acknowledge that but I think we do a pretty damn good job of not letting the bad times, past and impending, to ruin what we have now. Sure, I have my moments of ‘why my Mum?’ and cursing the world for being so cruel but spending your life resenting the unpredictable is a waste of time. I sometimes worry I might develop it myself. With it having a link to genetics and more common in women, it scares me sometimes. But, I’ve seen my Mum do it, I’ve seen her power through and get on with life despite all this terrible disease has thrown at her. And at the end of the day, she has a smile on her face and still stands up again – metaphorically because, y’know :) – after every knock back.

In terms of research, well. They’re trying. They’re trying their best to find a cure. Unfortunately, by the time that happens and if it ever will, it’ll be too late for my Mum and many others. But, it’s a step forward and any awareness raised is a good thing. If you’ve read this post and want to know more about MS, that’s raising awareness. If you’ve read this and have a greater understanding of it, that’s awareness. Any awareness helps and I really do hope that one day, a cure will be found in my lifetime and MS is no longer seen as such a debilitating illness.

Thank you so much for reading and making it this far. I really hope you enjoyed this post as it was my most requested when I asked on my social media! I’m thinking about raising money for the MS Society at some point in the near future and aim to have more people talking about and fighting against MS. Mum, you're an absolute superwoman who inspires me everyday. But, Dad - you're the backbone for us all. I love you both so much.

Until next time, M x

Lifestyle // Becoming 'Stepmum'

I've been wanting to write about this topic ever since I started up my blog again but never really got round to it. It's something that is a huge part of my life and influences all of my decisions and life choices. It's also something that I never would have predicted. And that is, being in a relationship with someone who already has children. Essentially, I'm going to talk about my experience of being 'Daddy's girlfriend' and how my life has completely changed in the past 3 years.

I've known my other half, Burnie, since I was 15 years old. We met through my cousin and hit it off straight away. He quickly became known as the guy who had 'loads of kids' and was often the subject of a lot of laughs and inside jokes - all out of jest may I add! Over time, he would dip in and out of my life and we'd meet up at parties and social gatherings. It wasn't until I was 20 that I started seeing him in a different way. We were spending more time in each others company and I developed what can only be described as a 'schoolgirl crush' on him .As my feelings towards him got stronger, so did the hurdles. First off, he's my cousins best friend. Secondly, he's nearly 9 years older than me. And thirdly - and most importantly - he's a Dad to 4 children. I mean, WHAT? On the surface, it would never work and we'd never be able to have anything more than flirty banter. That's as far as it went really, until we both gave into each other and started dating. In secret.

For 2 months, we snook around and didn't really tell anyone about what we were up to (even though when everyone found out, they were very quick to point out how bloody obvious it was - oops!) We never spoke about introducing me to the children because we've both said now - we never ever expected it to become of anything. As time passed and we spent more and more time together, I completely fell head over heels in love with him. Not what I expected to happen, something I tried to stop happening. Nothing like making it complicated for myself, right?!

Throughout this time, I'd say for around 5/6 months I had a LOT of conversations with myself and my friends over it. I'd fallen in love for the first time with a man who was almost 9 years older than me. That in itself was a bit hard to grasp but I have always been a big believer in age is just a number so it slowly became an invalid argument. What I really struggled with was committing myself to not just him, but his children. 4 of them. Burnie had stopped being the man I joked about procreating his own football team as a father to 4 children. The man that I loved was a Dad. Never in my life did I ever imagine myself to be in the situation I was in and it took a lot of questions and actual pros/cons lists of being in a relationship with someone who is a parent. Because, essentially, I was entering a relationship with not one person, but 5. SHIT.

The first time I met all of his children, it was the spring of 2015. Me and Burnie weren't dating at the time but with so many mutual friends between us, we met at a local event and went over to the pub in the afternoon. Actually seeing these kids who I'd heard so much about was a real treat and eventually, we were all play fighting in the beer garden and I had one of the afternoons I'd had in a long while. Back then, even though it was only a few months before me and Burnie got together, I never ever expect them to be in my life. Over time, he'd tell me stories about his children, recite memories he'd made with them and speak about them with such love and care that eventually I knew - I had to meet them properly.

The most important thing for the both of us was to make sure that the kids would be comfortable with being around someone new, let alone knowing that they’re Dad’s new girlfriend. So, to start off with, we decided to introduce me as a friend. For the next 8 months or so, we would meet up with the kids just to see how we’d get on. I was so so worried that they wouldn’t like me and that I would have to spend a lot of time trying to prove myself to them.  But, straight from the beginning, I felt an instant connection with all of them. I do have a lot of children in my family anyway, so to spend time with them kind of comes natural to me now and the same goes for Burnies children. 

Eventually, I was spending more time with them, seeing them more regular and ended up spending pretty much every weekend in their company. It wasn’t until me and Burnie had been together for 8 months when we wouldn’t avoid the questions of ‘are you my Daddy’s girlfriend? Is Mel your girlfriend?’ anymore. To be accepted into the lives of 4 very different, strong and independent children gave me such joy and happiness and I knew from then that I would only grow to care for them more as time went on. And boy, I wasn’t wrong. It was only just over a year ago, when me and Burnie moved in together, that my role as ‘Stepmum’ really came into play. And yes, I still use quotation marks around THAT word because it’s still weird for me, especially when me and Burnie aren’t married – and even though the kids themselves say that I technically am!

I'm not going to lie to you, playing a part in raising 4 children is really hard work. It's not something I signed up for to start with when I was only 'flirting' with Burnie, but I like a challenge and face everything head on. But my god, it's difficult sometimes. Then again, on the flip side - it is the most rewarding experience and pretty much the best thing I've done with my life. To break it down, I'm going to list - yay! another one - what I've learnt the most from being a 'Stepmum' to Alex, 12, Evie B, 10 (nearly 11!), Harry, 8 and Bethany (aka Betty), 5.

L-R: Betty, Alex, Burnie, Evie, Harry

• Your are allowed to discipline - Now before I get into it, you have to earn this. I was sitting on the side lines to start with when the children misbehaved because I didn't get the green light from Burnie that it was ok for me to chip in. And not just that, I didn't feel comfortable with it. As time went on and I asked Burnie his thoughts about it, we both knew that it was within my right as an adult - not a 'parental figure' - to discipline the children. Before, it used to be Burnie putting the discipline in place and I supported him from the sidelines. Now, we both do it, and chip in for the other when it gets a bit too hard. We've found a good balance and now I see it as 'they're in my home, I'm in their lives for the long haul, I have the right to as well'.
• Discipline is bloody hard - Telling the children off is never a fun thing to do. Sometimes, they do things that completely shock you and you have no idea what to do with it. You don't know the right thing to do and it's just a learning curve. You learn as you go along and I'm grateful that I can confer with Burnie whenever I think I'm doing something wrong. The actual act of discipline is awful though, and it never gets easier. It can leave you exhausted and I definitely have stages of 'what the bloody hell am I doing this for? I'm not even their Mum'.
• Even though you're not their parent, you're still an influence - We all know what it's like to be a kid and get so tired of your parents breathing down your neck. I've found many a time - especially with the older ones - that knowing they can come to me about things that they don't necessatily want their parents knowing - is a comfort for them. Of course, I always tell Burnie anything I'm told by the children and they know that too, but sometimes talking to me shows them that there's still always someone to talk to, parent or not. As well as that, they look up to you, and you begin to try and be the best you can for them. Because of that, you become a more well rounded person - funnily enough.
• You'll never shake the feeling that you're actually not their parent - Now I don't know if this is just a personal one for me, but sometimes I really do struggle with the fact that I'm not their Mum. I don't have any right or place, or any reason for them to want to be in my company. I don't come into play when it comes to more formal arranges e.g. parents evening, doctors appointments. And that is always a stark reminder that I didn't birth them - even though sometimes I do wish deep down that I did. But, not being their actual parent means they see me as 'Fun Mel' rather than 'annoying parent' - Sorry B!
• There is no one more understanding and caring than a child - And sometimes, all you need is just a conversation with one of them. Or you need reassurance. For example, when I suffered with a panic attack in front of Alex, Evie and Harry, they just got it. They didn't judge me, and actually still wanted to hang around with me. That was really, really cool.
• You grow as they grow - I'm learning about parenting every single day. In a way, they are teaching me how to be a parent for when my time eventually does come. Some things shock me, good and bad. But I'm learning so much from being an impartial person in their lives and it's so rewarding. In a way, I'm lucky to help bring up children now because I know I'm at least capable. It's when they're teeny tiny babies that I'd freak out!
• You cannot control the acts of others - When you're a 'Stepmum', there is always another woman in the children's lifes that affects your family. Rightly so, they are their Mothers. But sometimes, they can take a heated turn and it's important to keep your cool. I'm not going to lie, I don't think either Mum (Yes, two mothers and 4 children) were particularly happy at first. Again, understandable. Thankfully, I've managed to gain the respect of one Mother and we now have a healthy relationship - I hope! But, you can never predict the actions of another - and only be ready to react in a way that it best for the children. 

• Patience - Now theres something I never had until I was made to have it. Children teach you patience, and without it, you'll go bat shit crazy - trust me.
• Some people just don't get it - So many times I've heard 'but why would you? You're only in your twenties, you should be out there partying?!' It's hard for some people to understand why you would walk into the lives of not just 1 person, but 5. Hey, I didn't ask for it but it is for damn sure the best decision I ever made. And so what if I'd rather spend my Satruday evenings watching films with Burnie and the kids than going out and drinking my life away? It can get really tedious hearing the same thing but it's also one of my favourite things in the world to tell people. The faces I've seen when I say my partner has 4 kids is genuinely hilarious.
• Sometimes you want to tear your hair out - Scream at them, slam doors in their faces, want time away, feel so frustrated that you just aren't getting it right. You realise that when you care so much for a person, they frustrate you just as much when they just. don't. do. as. they're. told.
  
  
• Rewarding and heart warming - Being a 'stepmum', you have to earn everything. A child automatically bonds with their parent right from being born. The parent grows as they grow, sees all their firsts and guides them until they no longer need guiding. I walked into their lives when I was 21 and the thing that will always bring me joy and happiness is knowing that they all love me, for me. Not because I'm their mum, or dad, or auntie. I have bonded so much with all 4 children, in very different ways, and I can say with my hand on my heart that they are the greatest things that have ever happened to me. they bring me so much love, joy, laughter and memories and I only see it as a privilege that I get to see them grow. I love that they love me and their Dad being together - although to consistent pestering of when we're getting married and having babies may be enough to turn Burnie grey quicker! I love that they choose to spend time with me, that they choose to play games with me, that they choose to speak with me about anything.
• They've changed me for the better - Before being involved in the kids lives, I never really knew what purpose I had, I never knew where my life was going. Yes, I never expected to be a 'Stepmum' to 4 kids at the age of 24, but I also didn't expect those very kids to make me the happiest person in the world. Watching them grown and trying our best to lead them in the right direction is one of lives simplest pleasures. Seeing them play together, care for each other and care for the world. Laughing with them - and I can tell you they're the funniest/craziest kids I've ever know. They make me feel like I have a purpose and they make me feel so loved. They really are just the best people to be around, no matter how much I want to tear my hair out and get down about failings, I wouldn't change my lifestyle for anything. All 5 of them filled a space in my heart that I didn't know was empty. 

I hope you all enjoyed this little - well, long! - explanation behind something that really plays the biggest part in my life but I never really mention. If you'd like to read more family orientated posts, let me know! It's been quite refreshing to not talk about mental health for once! Although, if you'd like an update on that too, feel free!

Love, M x

Therapy // The First Step To Recovery

Therapy is weird. You go to your appointments not really knowing what to expect. Some sessions fill you with dread, some sessions help you feel relieved and some just absolutely baffle your mind. On Monday this week, I had my 8th therapy session and I was told something that I’d never ever heard of. I was informed of a behaviour that can be learnt throughout childhood. Something that, with persistence, can be picked up by anyone. Even animals. I was halfway through the session, talking away in my own little world when my therapist just stopped me in my tracks. She very rarely interrupts me so I knew she had to get something off her chest.

‘Can I just stop you, have you ever heard of the term ‘learned helplessness’?’

She might as well have spoken in a foreign language because I had no bloody clue. I just looked at her and said ‘Eh?’, which in turn made us both chuckle before she proceeded to explain. Let me just say, I cannot remember the last time someone told me something that made me so stumped that all I could say was ‘Well, fuck’. Yes, maybe it is an overreaction to some, but I feel like all the pieces on my broken jigsaw edged their way closer together. So, for those of you who haven’t heard of it either, I’ll try explain the best I can whilst relying on memory and google.

 “Learned helplessness is a psychological condition in which a human being or an animal has learned to act or behave helpless in a particular situation, even when it has the power to change its unpleasant or even harmful circumstance.”

My therapist explained that it is something that has been used as a torture technique. No matter how hard someone tries to escape a difficult situation, they never get anywhere. The more times this happens, the individual learns to accept that they never will get anywhere, no matter how hard they try. They’re always faced with the same end result, and therefore don’t feel the need to try anymore. If you need more information on it yourself then just google it. I’m still trying to get to grips with it myself.

It’s a term I had never heard of before. It’s something I have never been familiar with but when my therapist made me aware of it – it blew my mind. Those with psychological disorders are more likely to experience learned helplessness e.g.depression, anxiety, elevated stress levels. Not only did that help me see the link, but because it just makes sense. It left me feeling incredibly strange. My therapist actually offered to cut my session short because she knew she’d ‘lost me’ – a phrase that is quite frequent in our sessions. I completely fell into my own world and tried to analyses what she’d just told me. I tried to make sense of it. Almost 4 days later, I still don’t think I have.

Looking back over my childhood and teenage years, I spent a lot of time trying to get people to listen to me, to hear what I had to say and take me seriously. 90% of the time, the response was not what I needed. My feelings and thoughts were rarely taken into consideration. Over time, I stopped seeking help and support because I knew it wouldn’t get me anywhere. That’s when the snowball effect began to take its course and ‘learned helplessness’ became apparent, unbeknownst to me. Now, I struggle to voice my thoughts and feelings just because my mind has been trained into thinking that no-one will care, no-one will take me seriously and my needs won’t be met. A lot of my anxiety stems from not being good enough, not being able to fulfil and meet the needs of those I care about. Thinking that everyone will be better without me in their lives. Knowing that there really is no point in even trying. If it’s not been the case for 15 years, why would it now?

My therapist then said to me ‘have a think about how learned helplessness can explain your troubles and demons’. Yes, I’ve thought about it, and I don’t really know what to do with it. She explained that it came to her attention because I’ve adopted a ‘I don’t know and I don’t care’ attitude towards those who have failed me over the years. And it’s true – the way my therapist just ‘gets me’ is still something I can’t quite get my head around. When asked about how things made me feel, in regards to my current situation and the struggles I face, I just don’t want to bother anymore. I’m getting to a point where I really do not care what happens other than how it affects me directly. I’m done being dragged into situations that have nothing to do with me, I’m done being a messenger between those who aren’t mature enough to sort their own issues out and I’m done putting effort into the relationships that only bring me anxiety and upset.

I have the power to see that there is a way out and I’ve touched it with my fingertips. Typically, recovery doesn’t stay in my eye line for long enough to get a taste of it. But, it’s there. Now, I’m thinking about me.  I’m thinking about how I can become the person I’ve always wanted to be. The person I want to be for me, and for others. The person who sticks up for herself, knows her worth and spreads nothing but love and care to those who deserve it. I’m thinking about my future with my Burnie, building our own family even more, spending our lives together and living out our days as happy as we can be. I’m not naïve into thinking that there won’t be bumps in the road. If my past is anything to go by, there’s another just waiting for me around the corner. But, I am done letting my past follow me. I am done letting my anxiety rule over my life. I am done begging for love, support and care in places where I know it’s just never going to be. I have found a love that is deeper than the ocean and a life that I am so excited to live. Yes, I still struggle and I always will but I’m learning my triggers and overcoming them. I know there is a chance of relapse as I have done just that before. But, I have come to the realization that once you remove the toxicity, the negativity and really make effort in putting yourself – and those who matter – first, that jigsaw starts to fall into place. My light is there and it’s shining brighter than ever before.

Love, M x

Reflecting // You Did Your Best, 2017

I’ve never really seen a change in year as a big thing. Don’t get me wrong, it’s always a great opportunity to spend time with those you love and have one too many to drink as you see through the new year. Then, the next day is just another day, but with a different number on the end. That’s the way I’ve always seen it, but this time it’s different.

Whether you know me personally or have followed my blog since September, it’s not really a secret that the past year has been a struggle, quite possibly the hardest year of my life. I have faced demons from my past that I managed to bury very well, I have questioned every little detail about my life and my mental health became so turbulent that I scared myself with the thoughts I was having. So, to put it lightly, I was really fucking excited to get this year out of the way.

I could spend my time bullet pointing everything that went wrong this year but I don’t want to. I’ve spent most of my time writing about the demons, the bad stuff, the really shitty experiences I’ve had this year and if you want to, it’s all there to read. Yes, it’s good to talk and get your feelings out there but again, have I ever told you guys about all the amazing things that have happened this year? All the things that have made me drag myself through, the positive side to a pretty turbulent life. Because, despite it all, I’m pretty damn lucky to still be walking this earth. So, instead of bullet pointing the bad, I’m going to bullet point the really good.

·         I finally left my job at Starbucks, spread my wings and flew away from the nest that was ‘being a Barista’. I worked in coffee shops since I was 17 and not long after my 23^rd birthday, enough was enough. It took balls, I have to admit, leaving the comfort of a job that I knew I was good at. But I wasn’t happy there anymore, the store changed and I realised that I was bored of getting up at 5:30 and not getting home until 10pm. I was bored of shift work, arsehole customers and working with what seemed like pre-pubescent imbeciles. I wanted to adult properly. Get myself a Mon-Fri 9-5 job and not just for me, for my partner and his kids. I was getting really sad about not spending enough time with them on top of it all. So, on March 13^th, I hung up my apron and got myself behind a computer in my new job in May. What seems like ‘just an office job’, working where I do now gives me the freedom I need to live a little more. It’s not my dream job at all but it’s good. For now.

·         I moved in with Burnie. Well, officially. After almost a year of being a ‘permanent lodger’ in his home, myself and Burnie decided to do it properly after being together for a year and a half. It felt really nice to make the next step in our relationship and to actually have more responsibility(?!) A home that became my nest and the only place I was really happy, became mine. Name on the lease and everything. I haven’t actually lived at my childhood home since I was 19 but this was the first ‘proper’ adult move I did and it’s been better than I ever expected. Living in our own place and sharing everyday with each other has been a dream. Yes, arguments come and go about the maintenance on the house and getting used to each other’s way of living but after almost a year, living with Burnie is my favourite thing in the world. The house becoming a home to 4 little monkeys on a weekend is something I will never get bored of. As well as that, I’ve proven to myself that I actually can be a proper adult, despite being stuck in my student ways for 3 years. Nothing beats the feeling I get when we get post addressed to us both or buy a brand-new bottle of fabric softener.

·         Summer was lovely. I had almost two weeks off work and spent the time with my other half and his family. Cue 5 adults and 6 kids camping for 8 nights in Whitby. Myself, Burnie, his 4 kids, his sister and her husband with their 2 children and his Mum. What might sound like a nightmare for most people, it really wasn’t. Exploring Whitby, waking up at 6:30 to watch the sunrise over the see, staying up until 11:30 watching the stars in the sky, spending days at the beach, going fishing (or attempting to!). It really was a bloody good time. Even though I had serious holiday blues when we came home and had to say goodbye to the kids, myself and Burnie weren’t back for even 24 hours before we set off to celebrate our 2-year anniversary in the Yorkshire Dales. We spent 3 days climbing Malham Cove, walking through Ingleton Waterfalls and trawling through caves. Going on adventures is something me and Burnie have always loved to do, way before we even knew each other so it was perfect. We ate lovely food and spent so much quality time together and it really made me appreciate just how beautiful my hometown is. And, above all else, I felt like I had completely fallen in love with Burnie all over again. Yeah, summer was incredible.

·         After what seemed like a lifetime, I finally got the phone call I wanted. I finally got the help I needed. After months of going backwards and forwards, doctor to doctor; I received psychotherapy. Just knowing that I finally had access to some sort of help was a big deal for me. It’s taken me so long to accept that there WAS something wrong and once I did, I reached out. Help didn’t come straight away and I waited by the phone every single day in the hope that my call would come through. It did, and I’m attending my 10^th appointment next week. Therapy has been a huge rollercoaster to say the least. I’ve discovered things about myself that I never knew and it’s been quite the experience. So much so, I think I’m going to write about my therapy experience in more detail when I’ve finished my sessions.

·         Christmas was amazing. I finally work a job where it doesn’t completely take over your like during the Christmas holidays and it was bliss. It was my first Christmas in our own home and the first time I spent it when Burnie and his children. It was magical, exciting and so full of love that I could feel myself bursting all day. On top of that, I managed to see and deliver presents to ALL the children in my family. Although exhausting – and no possible in just one day - Christmas this year reminded me what the holiday is about and I feel so lucky to have spent it with those I love the most. I’d go as far as saying it was the best Christmas I’ve ever had.

You see, when I write all this down, it is quite uplifting to remind myself of all the good stuff that happened in 2017 and it helps me forget just how difficult it was. 2017 has tested me, pushed me to the limit and dragged me to the edge. I’ve had great times and the worst times but I know with all my heart that I couldn’t have got here by myself. So, to carry on the uplifting spirit of this post (look at me having a change of mood for once) – here are the recipients of my ‘Thank you for being you -  for me – in 2017’ Awards….

Abbie – Almost 6 years of you being in my life and you are still the pillar of strength I need when no-one else seems to make sense. Even though you’ve fought your way through this year yourself, you didn’t bat an eyelid when I needed you. I’m so proud of you for everything you’ve got through this year and even though we may be far away from each other now, you will always be my best friend. I love you so much, Abfab. Thank you for always being there. You da best.

Lauren – You brought me back down to earth every time I felt like I was going crazy. You’ve given sound advice of every nature and made me realise that sometimes, I just need to calm down. You’re an absolute gem, Lauren. Thank you for putting up with me for 8 years.

Kate – Whenever my phone lights up and I see a message from you, I know you’re checking in. Those messages have been the highlight of my days when I was in my darkest moments. You said you didn’t want to bother me, what you didn’t know is that your messages of support and encouragement meant the absolute world to me. You get me inside out, man. You never judge and you’re the most understanding lady in the world. Bloody love ya.

Channelle – Ah! You make me laugh like no other. And that’s the main reason why you’ve been a godsend this year. Without even realising it, you’ve cheered me up with your quips and mishaps. You’re an inspiration to all those who want to achieve, thank you for listening and laughing.

Tom – The true definition of a brother. We argue, fight and say things we don’t mean. We stand up for each other and stick my each other. We laugh together, we cry together, we protect each other. Thank you for constantly reminding me just what a brother should be. There’s nobody else better for the job than you.

Jess – Whenever I needed you, you were there (no matter how many times/whatever time of day). You’ve always been there for me and you’ve been my constant backbone since I can remember. Whether I needed to scream, shout, cry, laugh or just had a good drink, you’ve been there. Everyone needs a Jess in their lives, and I’m pretty damn lucky to have you. Biologically my cousin, sister by choice.

Debs – Your messages of encouragement and understanding throughout the tough times hit me right in the heart. I never would have expected you to go out of your way to do any of it – you really are one of the loveliest people I’ve ever met. I really do look up to you and I’m really grateful that you all have accepted me into the family.

*DISCLAIMER* If you hate soppy relationship jargon then just scroll past this one really quickly. But, I’ve saved the best for last.

Andrew ‘Burnie’ Byrne – Oh man, you have my whole entire heart. Words could never really do justice to just how much you’ve saved me this year. You’ve been by my side every single step, held my hand throughout and spoken for me when it just got too difficult. You’ve picked me up when I’ve fallen and shown me just what love it. You’ve stayed when I said you should go, you’ve told me I’m brave when I felt weak, you’ve told me I’m beautiful when I’ve felt ugly. You’ve been with me throughout it all. The doctors appointments, the therapy, the panic attacks, the police investigations, the confrontations, the conversations until the early hours, the tears and the heartache. I know, 100%, that I wouldn’t have made it through this year in one piece if it wasn’t for you. You’ve been my encouragement, my laughter, my light on the darkest days. And above all of that, not once have I asked anything of you, you did it all without question and that shows me just how special you are. You are so special and you just don’t see it but I promise you that I am going to spend the rest of my life proving it to you. You are my best friend, my soulmate, my everything. I count my lucky stars everyday knowing that you are the one I’m spending my life with. You are the one who reminded me to breathe and I’m forever thankful for everything. It will never go unnoticed. I love you so much, Andrew. More than you’ll ever know. 

2017 taught me so much, so much about myself that I never knew. It beat me down until I couldn’t walk, spat on me until I stood back up. But, I got back up. I found the strength in me to fight back. I’ve never worked so hard for anything but I needed my life back, or at least some of it. With the help of all the above people and many more, I got back up. I won’t let the events of 2017 – or any other year before – to affect who I am. I won’t let my past ruin the amazing future I know is ahead of me. I’m not going to make any promises to myself going forward, only to spread love. Use the bad times to spread love amongst those who deserve it. For them, I will love harder, laugh louder and one day, be back to my old self. I’m not there yet, who knows when I will be, but she’s definitely on her way.

Thank you so much for all the love and support my blog has received these past few months. I’ve been truly overwhelmed by it all. I’ve received messages of support from so many of you – old friends, new friends, old teachers, those I never expected to hear from and complete strangers. I really hope you guys stick with me on this journey to recovery and beyond – I promise I won’t become a stranger again. Writing has been my therapy too.

I hope you all have a 2018 filled with love and happiness.

All my love, Melissa x

Body Shaming // It's All The Same

Just a disclaimer before we start: I know that this post may anger some - well maybe a lot - of my audience. I mean no harm and really trying to avoid self pity on this matter. Ok, here goes...

I have recently read that when a fat person is body shamed, it sticks with them but when it comes to thin shaming, they can ‘walk away with their thin privilege in tact’. One quote of this article stood out for me and really struck a nerve. ‘And while your internal struggle is real and significant, the point is: You might hate your body, but society doesn't. That’s thin privilege.’ It was the first time I’d ever heard the phrase thin privilege, so I googled it. And, to be quite frank I was disgusted. So, I've decided to put my experiences and opinions out there. That quote alone pushed me to write this post.

It’s no secret that still, even now, men and women are judged and ridiculed for the way they look. Some would say that there is more understanding and acceptance these days but that doesn’t eliminate the fact that its still happening. In my opinion, thin shaming is something that does get swept under the carpet by society and isn't seen as ‘important’, but I need to talk about it. I need to talk about shaming those who are slim. It’s frowned upon to shame someone who are classed as overweight, and those who are an average size in fact, but what about thin shaming? Why isn't this being seen as just as damaging? Societies norms is one of the biggest issues we all face. Whether we fit, whether we don’t, how we can make sure that we do. The constant pressure that is put on us, especially growing up, can be and is damaging. But at the end of the day, what is ‘normal’? What isn't normal in my eyes is the way fat shaming and thin shaming is seen differently. So, let me tell you about my experience growing up and as an adult.

Growing up, to my family, I was always referred to as ‘boney bum’ and  ‘skinny minny’ to name a few. I always laughed when they called me them and in all honesty, it wasn’t the nicknames or the comments that affected me as a child, it was the fact that I was different. Genetically, all of the females in my family are overweight. It’s something that has always been apparent to me growing up because essentially, I was the only one who wasn’t, I was the polar opposite. I always wondered why I wasn’t like my Mum, my Grandma, my Auntie, my Cousins. I didn’t understand why I was so ‘skinny’ compared to them and it bothered me. I felt sometimes that I wasn’t a part of the family because I looked different physically (facially – I’m the double of my Mum and Grandma so we’re not talking about me thinking I was adopted here haha!) and yes, it was hard to grasp sometimes. I did ask on a few occasions why I was so slim and it is because of my genes. On my Dad’s side. Ah, I thought, so I’m not the odd one out, I just picked up more from the other side. And that was it really as a child – growing up. My family knew I could eat like a horse and not really gain weight and I can understand why some would see this as a good thing. But, it wasn’t until my late teens that the thin shaming really came into play. When I moved out, people didn’t know my eating habits, and I did lose the ‘puppy’ fat I gained throughout puberty. That’s when it started, and it is still happening. Let me just tell you some of the many things that have been said to me regarding my weight.

‘Oh my god, are you even eating?’

‘Melissa, be honest, are you anorexic?’

‘Jesus, where the hell have your boobs gone?’

‘You don’t look healthy, you’ve definitely lost weight’

‘You get skinnier everytime I see you’

‘Oh my god, why/how are you so skinny?’

Note – some. These are only SOME of the things that have been said to me about my weight. Now, to really help anyone understand how thin shaming is on the same spectrum as fat shaming, lets rephrase.

‘Oh my god, what are you even eating?’

‘Melissa, be honest, are you binging?’

‘Jesus, is that why your boobs are so big?’

‘You don’t look healthy, you’ve definitely gained weight’

‘You get fatter everytime I see you’

‘Oh my god, why/how are you so fat?’

This is me trying to get society to see how thin shaming is real, it hurts and it really isn’t different to fat shaming. First off, when people started commenting on how slim I am, I laughed it off. ‘Don’t be daft’ I’d say and just move on. But they became more frequent as I entered my early twenties and that’s when it really started to have an effect on my self confidence and contributed to the way I see myself now.

I’m 5’10, around 9.5 stone and my BMI is perfectly healthy and yet, these comments that I’ve been subjected to have made me question my health. And the worst thing about it, they’re all said by family and friends and I’ve been told I’m too skinny by customers at my old job. All because my genetics mean that I am slim. That’s not my fault. It’s not my fault that I have this body and it’s definitely not my fault that some people feel the need to make comments. I’ve been told that I should take it as a compliment. Why? Take it as a compliment that people think I’m too skinny and I don’t conform to the social norm that you can’t be slim without having some underlying health reason.  Don’t get me wrong, having anxiety and being under huge amounts of stress has affected me physically, and I am well aware of that. I also know that I continue to eat like a horse and completely unable to gain weight. But, then again, why do I feel like I should have to explain myself every time someone comments on my weight?

Because of the comments, I’ve stood in front of the mirror countless times and really thought about my body image. Am I too skinny? Is there something wrong with me? I’ve asked Burnie whether he thinks I’m too thin, I’ve asked my best friend. I’ve questioned the way my body is. A body that I was born in, that I grew up in, that I live with. Slowly, but surely, I started to hate the way I look.

‘Thing privilege’ is where people believe that thin shaming isn’t as damaging because thin people fit into what society deems as an acceptable weight. How ridiculous does that sound? ‘Oh because you fit into the average weight of a person, these comments cannot hurt you lol’… I cannot tell you the amount of times I’ve felt envy towards those who have fuller breasts, hourglass figures and bigger bums. Something I know that bigger women will have felt too. So, tell me the difference?

At the end of the day, we were all born to be different shapes, sizes, weights. Inside is where it matters and its sad that it still has to be said. No matter how you look on the outside, the people we are on the inside is the thing that shines through. Sometimes, we cannot help the way we look, it’s something that you learn to live with and slowly, learn to love. How are we supposed to do that when we’re under constant scrutiny to look a certain way. The sooner people realise that commenting on the way that someone looks – whether it’s criticism or meant as a compliment – can have more of an effect on them than you can ever realise.

It’s not ok to call a person fat, it’s not ok to call a person skinny. It is not ok to comment on how anyone looks - you don't know what they're battling with on the inside.

Until next week, M x

Relationships // The Third Wheel(?)

Having suffered with Anxiety for as long as I can remember, I think it would be fair to say that it has affected every single relationship I've ever had. It’s affected them in good ways – I've formed stronger bond with people through it – and unfortunately, more often than I like to admit, it’s affected my relationships in a negative way. One way or another, my anxiety has been a dull cloud over every aspect of my life.

Knowing me can be, in one word, really frustrating. Don’t get me wrong, I know I will always strive to be the best friend, partner, daughter, sister, auntie that I can be. I will always go out of my way to make sure those I love are cared for and appreciated. But, sometimes, I suck at it. Whilst living at home with my parents, my anxiety caused me to be really isolated. I didn't want to sit with my parents every day and socialise, I didn't want to have to come home everyday and explain what I’d been doing. I was constantly tired, irritable and tense whenever my anxiety was flaring up. This, in a way, made me a nightmare to live with, and it’s still something that happens now. Every time I felt anxious, I’d lock myself up in my room and not want to talk to anyone. My parents had no clue about my anxiety, I kept it very well hidden for a long time and sometimes I think that if they knew, they would've understood my feelings rather than assuming that I was just a ‘moody adolescent’. Now, they know about it. They've seen me having a panic attack a handful of times and they know when to prepare. I know now that I can tell them that I feel a little anxious and that's all I have to do. Let's be honest, your parents can read you better than most.

In terms of friendships, I am really bloody lucky. I have only a handful of friends who have stuck by throughout this whole process and it’s something I will cherish for my whole life. They know about my disorder, they understand and they don’t judge me for it. I feel like I can be completely open and honest with them when it’s bad. Before my anxiety became apparent to anyone, including me, I would cancel plans and make excuses to rearrange. I didn’t want anyone knowing that the reason I couldn't come out was because my anxiety wouldn't let me. I didn’t want to take the risk of my friends knowing because I feared so much that they would judge me, something I've experienced in the past. I thank my lucky starts that I have a small – but very significant – number of true friends who understand me, who get what it feels like for me and don’t hold it against me when I cancel plans because my anxiety is bad. They don't hold it against me when I rant for hours on end about how bloody shit it can get. They push me to better myself, they give me so many words of encouragement and remind me daily that I'm a strong woman. Although, this hasn't always been the case. 

Unfortunately, my anxiety has lost me friendships on many occasions. Most of the time I was ok with it, I saw it that they were doing me a favour – that I didn’t need their toxicity in my life. But, one day, my supposed ‘closest and oldest’ friend decided that my anxiety was a good enough reason to cut all ties. Looking back, it was the best thing she ever did for me. Our friendship had always been extremely up and down but she was one of those where you just got used to the fact that they would always be in your life. But in the moment, it broke my heart. It broke my heart because she used my anxiety as a REASON to not be friends with me anymore and it cut me in two. Not because I was losing her friendship, that was sad yeah, but because I thought my anxiety caused her to walk away. You get moments like  that, where you think it's because of your illness that people walk away, but believe me, it says way more about them than it does about you.

Now I know that being open with my anxiety around those I love is so important. The ones who walk away aren't – and never were – worth your time. At the end of the day, my anxiety is a part of me, whether it’s active or not, and those who cannot accept you for who you are and love you in spite of that, are of no use to you. I'm incredibly lucky now to be surrounded by so many lovely friends who support me, love me and most important of all, accept me the way I am. Whereas, it's a bit more tricky when the relationship you have with your significant other is the one that has been affected the most by your anxiety, something I'm sure those of you in relationships will understand. Let's talk about my relationship with Burnie. My better half. 

Me and B have been together for just over 2 years and have been living together since February this year. Even before we joined forces as a pair, he was made aware of my disorder. B has known me since I was 15 and we became really good friends when I was around 19. My anxiety at the time we were just friends had become to unravel and it was a time in my life where hiding it wasn't as easy as it used to be. I remember the first time I had a panic attack in front of him. We'd been having a few drinks that night with my cousin and I walked into the kitchen, pacing, hyperventilating. I tried my damned hardest to keep it hidden. He and so many others knew me as the fun, bubbly, carefree student and I didn't want anyone see me have an attack. But he was there, straight away, calming me down, telling me to breathe and eventually, I came round. I ended up going home and received a message from him, one that I still remember now, 3 years on. A message of surprise that I suffered with it but more importantly, a message of complete support. And he hasn't stopped supporting me since. 

When we became an item, panic attacks were just a 'thing' that we got used to, something we both endured when it happened and moved on. We never really spoke about it, it did sort of become a taboo subject with us and it was something we could deal with and forget about until the next one. Neither of us really followed any techniques to calm me down because to be honest, they weren't at their worst then. It was a sort of 'let's just ride it out' situation. All we really focused on was getting me through it at moving on. My anxiety and where it stemmed from was never a conversation we had - which came to be a mistake we both made in the first year of our relationship. It wasn't until February this year that my anxiety became the 3rd person in our relationship and the effect really took hold. I didn't want it to be a part of my life, never mind a part of my relationship. But we had to start talking about it, working through it because at this point, I was having a panic attack every day. It started to affect thoughts towards B and what his intentions were. My anxiety was questioning everything.. including my relationship with him. 

If you're not careful, having anxiety can destroy your relationship. Even now, I still think it can but that's just it - that's my anxiety telling me that my anxiety can ruin my relationship. Bit messed up right? I've thought that B was cheating on me, that he didn't really love me, that he was just with me for the sake of it, out of pity. I've thought that B couldn't cope with my anxiety, that he was tired of having to put up with it, that he wanted to escape it as much as I did. I've screamed at him until I had no voice left. He's screamed back in frustration. We've spent hours in silence, we've spent hours talking everything through. All of these reasons - and so many more - could have easily destroyed us if we let it. But we didn't let it because we did what we knew was the best thing for us. It's something that has saved ALL of my relationships with everyone in my life. Something I advise you all to do if your anxiety is having a detrimental effect on your relationships. We communicated. 

I opened up about everything. I laid my soul bare to him, and spoke about things I never wanted anyone to know and he listened - my God did he listen. It felt like therapy in a way. I told him ways to help me during a panic attack, what to do and what not to do. I apologised for all the times I've lashed out at him whilst in the middle of one, I explained to him every single thing that made me feel anxious. I've told him everything about me. Past me. Present me. He's seen me at my happiest, and he's seen me at my absolute lowest. He's picked me up when I was rock bottom, he's reassured me when my anxiety was completely destroying me, he's made me see the world in a completely different way. Then, on the flip side, I've seen the way that this disorder has affected him. I've seen him sob his heart out when my mind tells me I need to go and I try to run away. I've seen the panic in his eyes and know that he really doesn't know what to do. I know that he worries about me all the time and that breaks my heart. I've seen his frustration that I have this disorder, I've seen him get angry that he can't do anything to get rid of it. Only since February have we accepted that my anxiety is a real thing, and it's a part of our lives, just as much as anything else. Even acknowledging that helped up build a plan - a method - to help us battle through it. 

Another factor was of course, his children. It was my biggest fear that they would find out about my anxiety. We have grown over the past two years and become our own dysfunctional family and I have grown to love them as if they're my own, hence why it was so daunting thinking that they would ever find out. Myself and B did our best to keep it from them, to protect them from what I was - what we were - experiencing. I would disappear for an hour when they were around to make sure they wouldn't see me having an attack. I didn't want them to see me that way, to them I was the fun, bubbly and carefree woman who loved their Dad. But, inevitably, it happened. Almost two years into our relationship, I was sat in the tent on our Summer family holiday in Whitby, having a panic attack. Obviously sharing a tent with the kids meant that there was a huge risk that they would realise that I was missing and something wasn't right. I was terrified that they would find out, which just added to the anxiety I was already experiencing. Mid panic attack, I heard Evie crying, B's eldest daughter. That on its own brought me straight out of it. Shit, I don't want this to upset the kids. I brought the eldest three into our side of the tent and explained the best I could to them about my anxiety with a racing heart and shortness of breath. All I can say is how much of a relief it was to finally be honest with them. They understood and proved to me why they're the most caring bunch of kids I've ever met. They all hugged me and reassured me that it was OK. They're kids for god sake and they understood more than some grown adults do. Then, we went outside and watched the stars, like nothing happened. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. To this day and until the day I die, it will always be one of the best nights of my life. 

We've been through so much as a couple in 2 short years. Things that would've broken many, but not us. I don't know why or how I got so lucky to find him, it's something I still can't get me head around. I don't know why he sticks around, why he puts up with it because I'm the first person to admit that I can be a nightmare. But he does and I will always be thankful to have him because really, he's saved my life. 

The most important part of keeping relationships healthy and a place for love and laughter is communication. I can't stress it enough. Through communication, I've kept and somehow managed to evolve my relationships. Through communication, I've bonded and made friends with people I never thought would be in my life. I've learnt to not let my anxiety overflow into my personal relationships. Through the communication, came the understanding. Through understanding, I have found friends for life. Through understanding, I know my family will always support me any way they can. Through understanding, I've found the love of my life who I know will love me for who I am, flaws and all. 

At the end of the day, we all encounter friendships and relationships that just aren't healthy for us and it's usually when they leave your life that you're made aware of it. If there's one tip I could give you all, it's to communicate. Open yourself up to those you think you can trust and if they walk away and decide they can't - more fool them. Honestly, it's their loss, and it's a real shame that some people, even now, can't see past the end of their nose to really love and care for the person and not their mental illness. If they stick around, help you, support you and love you then please hold onto them. They're the people you need to cherish and be there for. One day, they could be your lifeline, they could be the ones who bring you back. Without the love and support of my loved ones, I know for sure I would be a complete shadow of the person I am now. I can't finish this post without crediting Burnie one last time. B, you brought me back to life and I will never forget just how much you do for me. I appreciate you every single day and everyone would do well to have a man like you in their life. You're one of a kind, a rare diamond. I love you more than I could every explain. 

I hope you all enjoyed this post, and if you ever need someone to communicate with, you know where I am!

Until next week, M x

Changes // One Week

A lot can happen in one week. I know that now more than ever. In last weeks post, I wrote about how I still didn't make it into work and I was still waiting to hear from anyone about receiving any sort of help. I know things now that I didn't know last week and I'm more aware of who is there for support and who is there just to bring me down. A lot can happen in one week. 

After publishing my most recent post, I had just come back from the doctors and received another sick note for two weeks which included a 'phased return'. This basically meant that my Dr knew I wasn't still 100% but I did want to make that move to start getting back, so she suggested starting on less hours and building my way up. As well as this, she re-referred me to the mental health services because she wasn't happy with the fact that I had just been abandoned essentially. We'd still not heard anything from anyone for nearly 4 weeks. After the appointment, I felt drained almost(?) I expected to feel optimistic about returning to work and being brought to the attention of the mental health team again, and yet, I felt drained, empty. Looking back, I still don't know why the idea didn't fill me with hope. In all honesty, I was just having one of those days, and that's OK. 

The day after, I was woken up by a phone call. An unknown number. I was told by my Dr to keep an eye out for these as it indicates that it's the NHS. Tired, dazed and rough as hell, I answered the phone to hear a woman tell me she was from the IAPT service for mental health and she had a free space for therapy. Would I be free to start on Monday? I sat bolt upright in my bed and went silent. I had no idea what to say, do or think, I was just so shocked. After saying my name a few times, I came to and was eventually able to tell her that I would take any appointment at any time. We arranged for Monday 9th October. Today. After the phone call, I sat in my bed for about 10 minutes just staring into space, trying to process what just happened. I finally got the phone call I've been waiting months, years, for. My therapy was to start on Monday. After bringing myself round from the shock of how quickly my re-referral went through, I started telling every single loved one in my life. I immediately messaged my boyfriend, Burnie, then my Mum, my Dad, my friends. Everyone was so so happy for me and that made me come back down to earth - or in a way, let the fairies take me - and realise that yeah, this is amazing news. This was the start of my journey back to the person I've always wanted to be. To say I was on cloud nine is the understatement of the year. I felt so optimistic and positive and I was so bloody grateful to be surrounded by so much love and support. But, then again, life always kicks you in the face and that very same day, I went to the lowest I'd felt about my capabilities in a long time. 

In life, there's always curve balls. They can form themselves as lifestyle changes which are completely unpredictable and spontaneous but unfortunately, they can form themselves into people. Don't get me wrong, I'm the first to understand that there is a lot of naivety that surrounds mental health, I was naive about it myself when I first realised that something wasn't quite right. But unfortunately, it can be used against you, used as a reason to point out your flaws and how you're incapable of being the best you can for those you love. It wasn't first time that a lack of understanding of who I am and what my illness is has bitten me in the arse. I had it been used as ammunition against me - an unarmed target - and I'm pretty damn sure it won't be the last. But, it still hurts, and it always will. The whole point of this 'section', is to make it known that no matter how high you are up on that cloud, there is always the potential for something/someone to burst your bubble and send you plummeting right back down. But, believe me, you cannot let it win. I'll make damn sure that whatever curveballs come my way, I'll have a pretty good swing to knock them out again, with a huge support system cheering me on along the way. When your own mental illness is used against you, it makes you question everything you do. You question how you act, how you care and how you love. You've gotta look past that, you have to, because if you don't, them negative thoughts will consume you and bring you right back to square one. Despite the huge potential knock back, I've come through again with the love by my side and the reassurance that I am really trying.

It's Monday the 9th of October. This morning, I completed my second shift back at work and attended my very first counselling session this afternoon. Last Monday, I was sat at home in a bubble of complete despair and wondering if things were ever going to go back to 'normal', whatever that is. Work have welcomed me back with open arms and a great deal of understanding. My therapist seems like a really lovely woman and even though I felt exhausted after, I felt it work in some way. I'll be the first to say that I've still got a HELL of a long way to go, but it's something isn't it? I'm slowly getting back into being full-time at work and my weekly appointments with my therapist is a great thing to look forward to every week, something to pull me through my hard times because my help isn't months away, it's only next week.. 

Progress is everything. Progress is something that takes time and effort and a true knowledge that not everything we get in life is going to come easy. But everything in life will come to you if you're willing to work hard enough to bat away those curve balls and work towards your future, your life. Understanding is everything. Understanding how your own mind works, how others will never see things the way you do and how sometimes, you will find someone who knows how your mind works better than you do. Those are the people you need in your life. 

I just want to say a huge, HUGE thank you to everyone who has shown an interest in my blog. I've been doing this for 3 weeks now and I've received over 1,000 views and countless messages of support and love from friends, strangers, and people who I'd never would've expected to reach out to. This blog is helping me more than anyone will ever know and to know that it's helping some of you means even more than that. So, thank you so much. 

Who knows what post will be coming your way next Monday, but I would love to hear from you if there's anything you want to see. Your input is just as important, you're the ones reading after all! 

Until then, M x