Feeling Weird

I’m feeling weird today. I think I’m probably just overtired, but today, I don’t want people, I don’t want work, and I don’t want stress. Today, I want to sit on my own, in the dark. I’ve cried today. I cried at university, right in the middle of one of the eating places. I was on my own, in the sense there was nobody I knew, but there were plenty of strangers around to watch me.

I wanted to go to bed early tonight, but I have to wash up. Perhaps I’ll leave some for the morning. I don’t know yet.

I hope I’m just exhausted, I hope that this isn’t a crack in the beautiful positive life I’ve been building recently. Today, even my Rainbow unit didn’t make me happy. I had a constant ringing in my ears, a dizzy feeling, and as soon as I got on the bus home, I felt an overwhelming feeling of sleepiness.

I cannot do today, and I cannot do people. I can’t concentrate on work, and I’m afraid that this may be slipping back in as a habit. I know that this is anxiety taking it’s toll. I’ve been learning all about anxiety, depression, OCD, everything to do with the brain. The lectures make me uneasy, but I hope it will help me to accept some of my feelings, and some things about myself that are simply fact. I don’t know, I had been doing so well. I’ve been so positive and happy that this feeling terrifies my even more, and I can feel myself entering a cycle again.

I had been doing so well, but not today. You can tell, this blog doesn’t make sense. I’m jumbled. I don’t think straight when I feel this way, and that’s why I can’t work. It’s 7.45pm. I’m going to bed soon. I need to talk, to write, something.

Writing isn’t helping today. I don’t feel any relief when I’m writing this. I have a fear that I may just burst at any second.

Please, someone help me, before it’s too late.



I’m home, I’m free, it’s over. The first year of university is done, and somehow, I survived.

I’ve had a fantastic time, I’ve learnt so much and come so far in terms of positivity and confidence. I’ve learnt to make friends and to have fun. I feel like I’ve done okay and I hope the results will reflect that.

But for now I’m going to enjoy the freedom. I’ve gotten myself a summer job, I’ve got friends to spend time with and sunshine to enjoy. There’s fun to be had and the pressures are gone, so I must make the most of it.

For me, the freedom doesn’t happen that much. The pressures of exams provide a crippling pain and I’m bound by stress and fear. I’m keen to please, and deathly afraid of failure. But that is gone now.

Now, there’s walks to go on and ice creams to eat, there’s routes to run and nights out to have, plans to make and organisation to be done. It’s a four month summer and I must make the most of the freedom.

But am I really all that free? Or am I caught by the chains of my own existence? Trapped by the past and the future, a rabbit in the headlights and unable to escape. Unable to help myself, never mind others. Trapped. Bound. Afraid. Worried. Helpless.


I’m sick. I’m really really sick. And for a girl who doesn’t get sick, that’s extremely scary.

I’m waiting for the bus to guides, but The waves of nausea are almost too much to handle. Fatigue, diarrhoea and sickness is tricky, and I’m not sure what’s ongoing issues and what is new. I don’t know what to worry about, and what is normal for me.

I’m struggling to even stand for any length of time, and I can’t keep food down. Oh, and it’s a ‘food festival’ at Guides. Even better. My neck hurts, and my stomach is getting shooting pain after shooting pain.

So why am I going to guides tonight? Because I have a genuine fear that when I go to sleep tonight, I might not wake up. But nobody knows. And nobody can know because I’m probably just being silly.

I’m ill, I’m really ill. And I don’t think this is ‘just’ low iron and an ongoing stomach issue anymore.

A tear slides down my cheek, and my fears are just making my stomach flip faster and faster and faster. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know where I should go, and I don’t know who to ask.

When Thank You Isn’t Enough

It can be tricky to say thank you, sometimes. It can be hard to find the words to express what we really mean, because so often, when we say thank you, what we mean is so much more than that. Someone holds the door open for you, you say thank you. Someone’s says ‘bless you’, and you say thank you. Someone tells you that you look pretty today, you say thank you.

People always say that actions can mean much more than words. But in this case, that’s still not right, is it? Because holding the door open for someone is an action, but yet they still get the same response as those who spoke. That’s because it’s not about the actions just being actions, it’s about the meaning behind those actions. Someone holds the door open because they’ve been told it is the polite thing to do. When someone helps you confront your biggest fears, the sentiment is very different. For me, that’s a little tricky to cope with, because I want to say thank you. But thank you isn’t enough. But I struggle with words, and don’t know what to do, so I say thank you again and again. Now thank you means nothing anymore. It’s in the rut, with sorry.

But this time, thank you wasn’t enough. And I tried saying it again and again. But repeating the words didn’t make them mean any more. But maybe I can explain myself now. I hope so, because I need to say a proper thank you. And I need to explain why that thank you means more than any that I’ve said before. Because she deserves that much; what she did for me was really special.

A few weeks ago, my best friend allowed me to confront my biggest fear. For anyone who’s been around here for a while. They’ll know that I’m largely terrified of alcohol. Whilst I’ve come to university and learned slowly to cope and ignore, the idea of getting drunk was, and still is, very much a no go zone. But this friend promised me a long time ago that we’d do it together. And my lord, we did. Big time.

She’s always helped me with alcohol related fears. From just after we first met when she saw my terrified face at the concept of being asked if I’d like a drink by her mother, to an hour or so later on that same night, when in a room on our own, she made me take just a sip of that drink. A few years later, we ordered wine in a restaurant in London. Both under age (although me only admittedly by a couple of days), they handed us the wine menu, so I let her order, and I drank my first glass of wine. A few days later, I let her mix cocktails on my eighteenth, and feed them to me on the presumption that she’d look after me. My parents told her to watch over me. It was fine, I didn’t get drunk. I was too ruled by fear. Ironically, a few months later at her eighteenth, her parents said the same to me. Little did they know that the situation would be completely reversed. That night, her eighteenth, was the first time we got tipsy together, or as I kept saying ‘I’m just a little bit drunk’. My first ever jager bomb was bought by my favourite teacher, and we well and truly danced the night away. We crept into her house much later than we were supposed to and ate birthday cake before heading to bed, and waking up very early, and rather hung over the next morning to revise. There’s been ups and downs since then, which we won’t mention. But a few weeks ago, she came to visit me. She stuck to that promise that we made that when the visit happened, we’d get drunk together, and she’d keep me safe.

It’s fair to say that I was absolutely bricking it. Well, truly, and completely shitting myself. Somehow, she forced me to hold it together, and we made it down to prees and pizza. The rest, as they say, is history. Mainly because I can’t remember that much of it. From what I’m told, I danced like a complete idiot, was VERY stubborn that I would NOT get onto the strip pole, we stayed later than my course friends, asked for our favourite friendship song to be played – twice, and I spurted a lot of microbiology (I’d had the exam that day). Microbiology wasn’t all I spurted, either. I was six approximately six times over the course of three hours, and she made me change into a new set of pyjamas. We didn’t get to bed until half five, and I woke up at 8.30am shitting myself because I couldn’t remember what I’d done. Subsequently, I woke her up to ask, too. I was so so scared, it’s too difficult to explain.

But now, I can laugh about it. Whilst I’m in no hurry to tell my parents, it’s the kind of thing that happens to teenagers all the time, and I’be been told that it happens to everyone at least once. I’m just glad it happened when my best friend was there to carry me home, remove my necklace, put me into bed, and tie my hair back. And it sure as hell won’t be happening again. It’s the kind of thing that will be completely forgotten about until I ask her to make a speech on my wedding day. Which I will be asking her to do. My lord, she’s got better stories than anyone else!

And whilst I have begun to confront my fears, it’s plain to see that thank you is just not enough. She may be training to be a doctor, but this girl hates sick. Yet she propped me up at the toilet, and she made sure that I was okay. I know for a fact that I cannot think of one other person who would do that for me.

But she knew I was afraid, and she knew that I feared that I would get hurt, or do something that I would regret. But she made it safe. She made it okay, and she allowed me to do something that a year ago, I didn’t think that I’d ever be able to do. I’m so grateful for that, you cannot even imagine. She’s the only person that could make me safe enough to not worry about what I was drinking. Nobody else will ever manage that, I’m certain. I always struggle with words, and to say exactly how much it means to me. But it does mean the world. If she didn’t truly love me, she wouldn’t do that for me. They say that our friends are the family we choose, but it’s not just that. I don’t think we chose this friendship, because when we met, we seemed the most unlikely pair. We were thrown together on a school trip that left our worlds colliding, and we’ve simply never looked back. I’m proud to say that she’s the sister that I never had, and I’m finally confident that she will support me and care for me until the end of the world, no matter what choices I make or fears that I have.

And I’d do the same for her. Always and forever.

So thank you. And I really mean that, more than ever, and more than anything else in the world.

Coping with Alcohol

It’s 3am and I’m very much mid panic attack. Tonight has been a whirlwind of emotion and I’m not sure how to take it. There wasn’t plans and boundaries, there was change and the unknown. It doesn’t matter how much I’ve had to drink, that’s scary even when I’m sober. Combined with alcohol, it can seem almost impossible.

And now it’s 10pm the following day, and I’m laughing at myself. Because last night, I was okay. In fact, last night, I enjoyed the majority of it. 98% of last night was absolutely awesome. Except a near panic attack as I passed from sober to tipsy, an ‘I can’t breathe’ situation in the club with no inhaler, and a panicy 3am comedown.

But I did okay. Alcohol has always been tricky for me, and with people I don’t know that well, it’s even harder. But one day, I’ll enjoy the whole night. I’ll know my limits and boundaries and I’ll cope without reassurance. It may take a long time, but I’ll get there, because I deserve to be able to let go and have fun, just like everyone else. Right?

It’s not long now until my birthday, and if I know and plan beforehand, I can drink as much as I want. It’s about control and understanding of limits. I don’t really have those yet, except I did the sick thing last week with my best friend and swore never again. I know I don’t panic now when the alcohol comes out, but I do still panic when I feel it affecting me, and when I stop the adrenaline fuelled dancing. I need to address that and cope with that, and right now, my way to cope is to know EXACTLY what I’ve had, EXACTLY what I’m planning to have, and EXACTLY where we’re going.

The problems started last night when the plans changed from quiet drinks in the spoons to ‘let’s go to a nightclub’. I hadn’t had enough to dance, but I didn’t want to miss out, so I sped up, and I certainly didn’t pour all my own drinks. For me, that’s crossing a boundary of not okay, and that made me panic.

I also struggle to see my friends drunk. If they’re drunk, they won’t be able to help me, and they won’t be able to help themselves. That’s why I hate alcohol, because that’s when people get hurt.

But I’m learning and I’m growing and one day it will all be okay. I just need supporting in my venture. I don’t know just yet what the stages are, but by my hen do (which I hope is AT LEAST ten years off, yet) I know that I want to be able to drink what I want, with who I want, plans to change no questions asked, as much as I want, and not have to question those around me, or even myself, because I want to be able to trust myself to be safe, and not need to rely on anyone else. That’s going to take a long time, because I’m so far from that right now, but talking and planning will get me there. I made a resolution to be positive, and I want that to stretch to every single aspect of my life.

Alcohol makes me miss you though, and it’s definitely harder when I miss you. Everything is harder.

I’m really not alright.

‘I’m alright and I’ll be alright.’

That’s such a lie. If there’s one thing that I’m not right now, it’s alright. After days of waking up several times a night with nightmares, I had only two hours sleep last night. I’ve had a headache all day, and now I really want nothing more than to be sick. I haven’t been hungry for ages but I’ve been forcing myself to eat. I’ve just spent the last hour in tears and haven’t really done any productive revision since lunchtime.

My first university exam is tomorrow and there is absolutely no way that I’m coping. The lie that has been my positive mental attitude has come down in one huge swoop and knocked me flat onto my face. Of course you can’t just change completely in a week, and in trying to do so, and not allowing myself that five minute stress each day, I’ve potentially ruined my chances for tomorrow.

I’m angry. I’m angry at myself. Why did I let this happen? Normally now, I’d want to talk it out, but I don’t know if there’s anybody that I want to talk to. I can feel myself reverting back to the old me, the me that used to play the game of happy smiley masks and locked in my room with tears.

I can’t stop the crying, and I don’t know what to do. I’m not even sure that I want to cry, or even really why I’m crying, but I just can’t control it. I tried distraction and deep breathing, but the second I moved on and did something else, it started again. My eyes are getting sore and the salty tears are irritating my face.

It’s times like this that I can’t cope on my own. There may not be one name that I can give right now who I want to talk to or spend time with, but in my heart of hearts I know that what I need is someone to march in here, or someone to call me, and sort me out. I need someone to give me a list of what to do and when to do it by. I need someone to give me a hug and then shake me up and tell me to man up. While all of that sounds horrifying, I know it’s all that can fix me when I get myself into a rut like this.

I don’t want to talk to anyone. I don’t want anyone in the real world to know. I’m weak, and I’m a failure, again. I’ve not even sat the exam, and I’ve failed.

The scariest bit? Even if I do pass, I won’t get the first that is required to make my parents happy. I’m simply not that clever.

Or is that the scariest bit? Or is it worse to watch myself be consumed by the demons and tied by the chains which I thought that I’d broken free of?

I just want it to be over. But then there’s only another exam to come.

Security Blanket

Sometimes it’s best to pull people into a false sense of security, to assure them that you’re okay, and that it’s okay, and that there’s no need to worry. Sometimes it’s safer, and it’s easier, and saves hassle and questions.

But if that person really knows you, they’ll never truly believe it. Perhaps for a while, in a wasted attempt to be free, they’ll try to trust you, and allow you to cover them with the security blanket, too. They will allow themselves to believe that you are okay, because they don’t want to fear for your life every day.

But when that person has the revelation once more that it’s not true, it’s a shock. If that person knows and loves you, it won’t be long before they realise the lies. Actually, you’re not okay. And I should have been worrying about you.

It’s then, when that person realises that they’ve been missing the truth, that they are crushed.

It’s when they notice that things aren’t right.

It’s when they hate themselves for believing the lies, and allowing the security blanket to envelop them.

It’s only then that the person feels guilt. When the blanket is ripped away, they scream from the pain.

It’s when they feel like a hot dagger has torn through them. They stopped helping. They thought it was okay.

It’s then that they become emotionless, fearful, and afraid.

It’s then that they realise that they should have predicted it all along.

It’s only now that I realise how stupid I’ve been. I let her pull the blanket over my eyes, and now the reality has hit me with one big THWACK.

Once more, my fear for her is deep in my chest, and even if it may be one thing too much right now, nothing can make the ache go away. I love her, I can’t be blind anymore. Even if she wants to be blind, I won’t. Because I fear for her life.

Fear of the Future

I’m paralysed by the memories of the past and fear of the future. I’m afraid to step forward and move on, to concentrate and to apply myself, because I’m absorbed by less than happy happenings. I’m ready though. I’m ready to talk, I’m ready to let go, and I’m ready to move on. I’m ready to ace this university course and make the most of the future.

I just need someone who will listen to me, and they don’t always exist. They’re busy, they’re in pain, and they’ll probably let me down. They might not have the time, and I’ll be left to wait again. But I don’t know how much waiting I have left in me. I don’t know if I can wait another day. My hopes are built, and I’m not sure how I’ll react if I’m let down this time. Now I’m afraid of trying to let go, and surely that’s backwards?

Alone with the Darkness

I may have told everyone around me that I’m exhausted and I’m going to sleep. It’s a lie though.

I’m in physical and mental pain, and no matter how hard I try to be alone, the darkness and the silence is torture because often my own thoughts are worse than the present reality. I hate it, and I fear it, yet at the same time, I crave it.

Tonight however, it’s only destroying me more and making my pain worse. I wish there was someone I could turn to. If there was anyone right now who I thought I could ring, or who could ring me and talk me out of this, I’d take it without thinking.

I don’t want to stay up all night crying. I’ve been crying for hours and hours already. I should have exhausted myself to sleep, but I simply cannot.

Whilst I want to talk soon, I want that moment to be specific, and that moment will not be tonight. I wish that tonight I could just hear comforting words, and find someone to help me turn on the light, but there’s no one. People have lives and priorities, and I don’t blame them for that. I don’t want them to feel guilty, because they’re not guilty. There’s nothing to be guilty of.

But it’s scary, and with nobody to tell me that it’s going to be okay, and just under twelve hours until I need to get up, it’s going to be a long night of staring at the ceiling. If there’s no comfort at 9pm, there certainly won’t be any at 3am. I wish I wasn’t alone.

Morning will come though, and the light should bring a few moments of peace, forgetfulness, and laughter. That’s what I pray for, but I fear it may no longer be the case.


Today is a big day. In fact, today is a very very big day, and I’ve been rather worried about it since I found out it was going to happen.

Last night, after a night of tears and pain, and heartache as some things happened that I know have disappointed my best friend, and more importantly, myself, a few really good and exciting things happened in the last fifteen minutes or so before I tried to sleep. I slipped into sleep easily, and for once, my sleep (until now at least) has been easy, deep, and dreamless.

Now, it’s 4am and I’m staring at the ceiling with a racing heartbeat. I’m feeling a little sick but that’s probably because I’m hungry. I don’t like to put a word or the name of an emotion to my current feeling, because I’m not sure there is one. I’m just feeling rather empty. Blank, I suppose you could say. It’s black, it’s dark, and nothing’s moving around in my brain.

I’m not trying to come to terms with today. What’s the point? It won’t make things any easier. It’ll just make me cry again, and I can’t afford that, with a 9am lecture.

Whilst I don’t like to think about what I want either, those thoughts are much harder to keep from my mind. It has always been easy to just build up my wall, and pretend it’s all okay. One of my friends once told me that life is just a big mess of pretend, and whilst at the time, I didn’t think I could lie to myself, I’ve come to realise that actually, I’ve been doing it for quite a lot of my life. Wants however, are much stronger than feelings. You must remember that feelings are colours and patterns to me, and I must try to convert that into words. Wants and desires are very different, I don’t have to concentrate, and so it’s much easier for those to invade my mind.

Right now, I want only one thing. I want someone to appear out of the darkness, and I want them to crawl under the duvet with me, wrap their arms around me, and whisper that it’ll all be okay. I want that person to be someone quite specific. And it’s not going to happen. It’s sadly, an impossibility.

So, I’ll wait out the hours till I must get up, and face the day. If I’m lucky, sleep will wash over me once more, if I’m not, I’ll simply have to lie here, staring at the ceiling, and wait until my guard breaks, and one by one, the emotions prod, poke, and stab me, until there’s nothing left.