Could you tell me a time you let go of someone you love?

Snippets of time

that came and went,

in and out of our lives,

like the waves crashing at our feet.

Moments in squares,

never to be added to our scrap book

that’s been rehoused,

from your book shelf,

to an old cardboard box.

I cast my mind back to our travels

to the individuals in the photos,

obliviously momentarily,

in love.

And my chest throbs.

A tight feeling in my throat.

I swallow back the lump hard

but it rises like the tide

And I’m hit by the realisation

that there’s not enough time.

And my eyes sting

as I stare straight ahead,

An attempt to fight back the tears.

But they’re already there

and they fall,

my eyes and mind

flooded by salt water

and memories.

Could you tell me a time you needed someone else?

It was a day I nearly lost. Waking up early in my, suddenly, messy room, again. I'm locked into bed demanding why things persistently tumble from order to chaos. It's too late, before I realise I'm wasting my time. A day off is a day off, the only one I got. I'm finally feeling lazy enough to get out of my bed, and it becomes clear this is how every day off goes. So to motivate myself I make coffee, cigarettes and food. Essential things to do before leaving the house, but perhaps a little distraction before too. Watch some videos and read some news, make attempts to reach out of this loneliness. If no one close is free, I'll happily go further and further until I'm talking to robots. Before long I realise I'm wasting my time again.

Frustration pushes me to get out and leave for a walk. I suit up, grab the lead and get in the car, I'm going north. Perhaps this beautiful part of the country is bad for my soul, at the drop of a hat I can disappear up a hill, through the woods, along the coast. Perhaps this is why I give myself so much time in the morning. I still hadn't decided where i was going, I had a memory in my head, of a place I wanted to reclaim, but without a clue where it was. This is sometimes why the voice in my head tells me I'm crazy, busy looking for something to reclaim, stumbling around like a fool without that clue.

After over an hour of driving, the pin I dropped in the map was wrong, the road is leading me through a pretty flooded Ford, so I stopped. For all this stressing about relaxing, I achieved little more than wasting petrol. Brilliant, a nice accompaniment of guilt to join the laziness and foolishness this morning has already brought. This is when it hit me the clearest, I'm only here wasting my time again. More time spent in my head justifying, apologising and arguing myself to myself all the while wasting my time from things more productive. I'm impossible, there's a hole in my bucket and I'm annoying myself, out for a walk but not finding one, out for myself and all I do is argue.

Resigned I was about to go home. I put the car in gear and notice someone is walking towards the car from theirs. Suddenly, this woman had arrived at the window of the car and knocked. I had a moment, while I fumbled to open the window, to notice this women must have been in her 50s, with a well worn jacket and that this is the first person I'm going to actually speak to today. As the window opens the lady leans down and arrives at my level. Well this is it, I'm going to have to talk and connect with a stranger.

She asks me straight "do you want to move my car forward so you can park behind mine?"

I'm hesitating, trying to quickly arrive back to the present to reach out and give my response.

"Oh, you know, it's ok, I havent decided where I'm going just yet, dont let me put you out" I finally replied, quietly hoping she didnt notice the vulnerability I'd woven through the words. I'm caught in her friendly face with a feeling that shes looking right through whatever mask I've put on to hide my internal voices. I'm left asking myself, just who is this woman?

Her face breaks into a smile, causing my defences to begin to dissolve, and she tells me I should park and leave for a walk from here.

"There's an old woodland that goes up the valley, it's perfectly quiet and has indications that people from a time long ago lived and worked within this woodland. If you are looking for a walk this is the one to do" she finally said through her smile.

This strange woman, who appeared from nowhere and has an apparent ability to talk straight through the feeble defences I normally put up between strangers, was using all the words that would persuade the child alive within me to get out and really explore. I dont need to hesitate anymore, the idea has been firmly sold, or maybe I'm just happy someone has come and told me what to do.

I move my car and fill the space this woman has created for me, I take a moment to roll a cigarette and process all these unusual feelings meeting this woman has stirred. I've already imagined her as a magical gatekeeper, loitering around the entrance to these woods to encourage, or discourage, individuals on whichever path they need to take that day. I know I'm back wasting time, but I'm inspired into a world that I love wasting time in. This has been what I've been waiting for all day and I feel it.

I'm ready to set off and make sure I thank this woman once again because my gratitude has grown considerably since parking the car and catching up with my thoughts. I confidently stride towards the gate and it barely slows me down as I open it to let me and the dog through. Already, after the first few steps I feel like I've moved far away from the world I woke up in. I find a rocky outcrop, that worked as a quarry at one point in history, and I'm straight up climbing to the top. Ok, it's raining, and my shoes are not appropriate, but it doesnt matter. I've long left the self loathing that would have seen these as hindrance, completely removed from the hindrance the ford presented to me. Completely removed from the guilt, laziness and foolishness that was accumulating within.

With this new spirit and perseverance I was able to take the good with the bad. One became the other and this motivation encouraged me to ditch my unsuitable shoes and to trust that wet and muddy feet are more practical to me than wet and muddy shoes. This symbolic act of removing my shoes and walking muddy trails and through muddy puddles rescued my fragile mind in a significant way. It represented to me that being ill-prepared is solvable.

My mind is a labyrinth of endless corridors to get lost down, this is something I cannot change. However, it's a dynamic place which can transform in a moment and learning to trust the corridors I find myself roaming through is difficult. Knowing how I see these corridors is never permanent and that fills me with reassurance. I'm learning that the lonely corridors are sometimes the most difficult places to roam, without physical company it can feel impossible to experience the perception change that can inspire or debilitate. So loneliness is not a choice, it's a situation many people find themselves, and if you are open to connection, and willing to let your path cross, even the slightest moment of company can be enough to transform your perception.

So thank you again, wonderful strange lady. I might never get the chance to tell you to what extent you changed my day, or my life, but I'll pass on your intuition to people over again. If it can happen once, it can happen again. You're likely to never know how much you mean to other people, whether close friends or complete strangers, but every day a stranger makes someones world less lonely. Here's to hoping that this wonderful strange lady knows this, I find her worth talking about again and again.

Could you tell me a time you felt alive?

Suddenly, my chest was collapsing. My eyes, wide open in panic, looking for a way out. At this moment, I don't know which way was up or which way was down. My body was rapidly losing the battle not to inhale underwater. I'd been pulled under for too long, one too many times. I went limp; there was no fight left in me. Immersed in the beauty that I admired so much; it abruptly took an ugly turn. 

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I began surfing in 2013; it was a frigid, dull, late December day - the furthest image away from the luxurious, sexy feed of photos we too often see on Instagram. 

Neoprene covered almost every inch of me - other than my puffy cheeks squeezing out of the hood. A friend was kind enough to lend me her surf gear - from wetsuit to board - allowing me to try a new sport I was desperate to attempt. I was apprehensive, excited, and fucking cold. 

There was no one in the water - a telling sign to an accomplished surfer that the waves were nothing to be excited over. Even still, we ran in with joy and the biggest smiles we could manage in our tight hoods. 

I had no idea what I was doing, but I didn't care. The power of the white waves, hitting against my body, pushing and pulling me in all directions, relinquishing all of my control felt exhilarating. My skin was tingling - brought alive with the cold water seeping into my suit. The frigid water even causing my brain to freeze. These new sensations were more than invigorating; they were addictive.  

I always felt like something was missing in life - if only I'd known sooner that it could be replenished with salt water. My life decisions now revolved around the ocean, the tides and the swell — the search for my next opportunity to be submerged in the sea was constant. 

It became a place of solace, prayer and mindfulness; calming my nervous system, quieting my busy brain as it reminds me to be present. Each time I entered the water, it felt symbolic. I worship the beauty and purity of the ocean and the natural environment. 

Having suffered depression for many years, the fact that something brought so much pleasure and desire into my life was liberating. On some of my darkest days, the only thing that would bring equilibrium into my life was surfing. As it washed away my sadness, it gifted me with a new lease of life. 

There's no place for doubt, in the sea. You must always be alert, aware, focused. Sometimes I feel as though it awakens a new sense in me; I explore and observe the vibrations and energy of the water. Like braille, she speaks to me in a language I was never taught, and somehow, instinctually, I understand. Other times, she enjoys laughing at me, challenging me beyond my limits, pushing me into every uncomfortable corner of my body and pulling me under waves when I get too cocky — crudely reminding me of her power and depth. 

A couple of years after my first immersion, I took a solo trip to Morocco - doing my best to escape reality. My skills had been (slowly) developing over the years, and this is where I experienced my first point break. The feeling of nervousness and apprehension, along with excitement filled me again, just like the first time I entered the sea with a board in Wales' bleakness. 

I was in complete awe; the waves were beautiful, peeling, perfection - much closer to those tropical pictures on social media, that I'd long been pining to experience. I couldn't believe how lucky I was to experience this moment.

I paddled out to the break using the rip to assist my journey there. I attentively listened to the ripples and energies the ocean was whispering to me while admiring the striking cliffs and landscape that surrounded me on this desolate beach. 

I needed to be more alert than ever on this point break. You can't fuck up on these kinds of breaks. The conditions are not forgiving. One wrong move and you can get caught in the impact (or danger) zone, where the waves break heavily on your head with the likelihood of rips. It's messy, and it's unpleasant, it's scary - especially if you are still learning to master the craft, like me. 

On what felt like the wave of my life, someone unknowingly dropped in on me - causing me to dodge them and fall off the wave. I was in the danger zone. 

Wave after wave, I was beaten down. Their force and impact were far too powerful for me to get back out to the back. I tried every method I could to get back to safety with the other surfers. But she, the mighty ocean, was too fierce. 

There was no time for rational thought; adrenaline filled every cell in my body, fight or flight was activated. I ditched my longboard and dived beneath each wave - fighting my way through. I had mere moments to catch my breath before the next one would hit me. My energy levels were quickly depleting. The waves were so powerful and strong, sucking me under and tumbling me around before spitting me out again, and again. Each time I surfaced, I was only able to catch a small amount of air before I was pulled under again, and again.  

Suddenly, my chest was collapsing. My eyes, wide open in panic, looking for a way out. At this moment, I don't know which way was up or which way was down. My body was rapidly losing the battle not to inhale underwater. I'd been pulled under for too long, one too many times. I went limp; there was no fight left in me. Immersed in the beauty that I admired so much; it abruptly took an ugly turn. 

Then, a moment of calm. As if weightless, I surfaced - just in time. I notice a break in the set; this was my chance to seek refuge. I wanted to cry from relief, but there was no time. I grabbed my board, hopped on, and with every ounce of energy I had left, I paddled away from the rocks, towards the beach. 

I got myself into a safer position and caught a wave into the beach, riding it on my belly. I flailed my way out of the sea, reaching the sand - the sanctuary I was begging for moments before. I wanted to collapse and howl on all fours - I needed to release some of the adrenaline still coursing through my body.

I looked around, dazed and confused by the ordeal. I was seeking support, a hug, something! But everyone around me was oblivious. 

I almost fucking died, and no one even saw it. 

I sat on the shore, facing the water that had just digested me and spat me back out. A few tears rolled down my cheeks while my mind processed the experience I'd just endured. I took some deep breaths, more consciously than ever, appreciating every molecule of air that entered my body - grateful for each breath. While unconsciously, my body worked on regulating my heart rate and neutralising the hormone imbalance.

I never leave the ocean the same person I was when I walked in. Perhaps it's a rebirth of sorts. However, this felt far more significant and poignant than ever. I allowed myself a few more moments on that beach to reflect. Everyone and everything around me was the same; nothing had changed externally, yet here I was - a fresh, new me. 

As my mind and body returned to the present moment, I noticed people having fun, playing around in the white water ahead of me. I smiled gently to myself - finally accepting the unexpected gift mother nature had just given me. There was little hesitation before I decided to pick up my board and join the others. 

The experience made me realise that this is why I surfed; to feel alive, to experience all of life, not just the divine, but the terrifying and challenging, too. 

Now, ready and willing for every opportunity the ocean has to offer me - I continue my quest for the perfect wave. Only now, it's not merely a way to seek refuge from my own, inner turbulence, but to embrace all the lessons the ocean has yet to teach me. 

Could you tell me a time you hit a wall?

In the year of 2016, I entered what would ultimately be an unsuccessful year of education but from which I learned some valuable lessons about myself and my approach towards other people. It was to be a victory lap on what had been a vastly enjoyable experience at university where I studied the field of Physics. I had glided through my penultimate year with relative ease and I was comfortably swimming in safe familiar waters with a final year ahead that was a stage set up for its final act, a predictable but happy conclusion. I entered my Honors year brimming with confidence and a keen interest to explore new territory. All through life I’ve maintained an awareness of the issues that our planet's environment is facing and like many others I’ve experienced frustration for my incapability as an individual to influence change on a large scale. In the brainstorming for my thesis proposal, I was presented with a rare opportunity to do just that and it was an easy choice. I was offered the opportunity to study the intake of microplastics in marine life; an issue that was rapidly becoming more prevalent and headline-worthy as people become aware of the damage that their favourite facial scrub was doing (another topic for writing in itself, but in short… the oceans are a mess). I recklessly bowled into it like an electrician attempting heart surgery, so eager to help without fully assessing my suitability. As you may have realised (unlike me) there is little overlap between a physics degree and the study of plastics in fish and it was already a stretch but my mind had been lit up with possibility at the prospect and after meetings where the possibility of having results published there was no question of me not choosing it.

Ironically with the field of marine biology, I found my self stranded in deep water. I was placed in a new building away from all the students and colleagues I’d been working with from the beginning with a laboratory I had no familiarity with.The apparatus was all new and I would have to repeatedly ask strangers for the simplest of advice. I’m sure in retrospect they were all welcoming of a newcomer in their departmentbut from my perspective I could feel eyes rolling back behind closed eyelids and imaginary disdain in their every tone. I hit my first stride a week or so in, finally being able to produce some results I could show to my supervisor. When presented, however, I was told of the irrelevancy of the results and lambasted for wasting valuable time with inconsequential research. I felt a significant knock to my confidence that day, but I still felt driven to correct my mistake. I would wake up with determination, pack my bag for the day, lunches prepped and all, and walk to university with the intent of spending the whole day making drastic breakthroughs and uncovering newground-breaking results. But I’d reach the front door and I’d pause, hesitant to step in from the cold. I’d do a small lap of the block maybe picking up a coffee as if that was the answer to everything and head back only to slow down again outside and be hit with a sudden overwhelming urge to just go home. Try again tomorrow! Something’s just not right today. I conceded and fell into this awful pattern, only rarely making it across threshold only to be met with further frustration and perplexity and every day I’d return to bed another rung down the ladder. Numerous times this frustration reduced me to the verge of tears and I’d make a hushed exit stage left so I could be alone before I had a breakdown in public. After a while, this solidified connection was formed between the work I was expected to complete and being unhappy. I knew every morning looking up at the modern architecture of the department building that if I was to put myself in that small dark optics room on the third floor I’d just feel like a failure. I’d have more ease scaling the side of the building than overcoming this unsurmountable wall I’d constructed in my mind.

Eventually, after weeks of repeating this awful pattern and dodging emails, I met with my head of year (after the previous experience of meeting my supervisor I’d rather avoid a repeat of that). I explained my situation and was greeted with welcome sympathy but rather than accepting the unfeasibility I was told to endure it and keep going. I am very fortunate in life to of had my mental wellbeing in good health for most of my life, never having to experience to horrible realities of clinical depression or anxiety but I feel like I understand a little more the extent of this inability from this experience. Stories of people who suffer depression and struggle to get out of bed in the morning are not to be dismissed. Whenever somewhere, someone is suffering from a resistance that their own brain can pose when faced with the simplest of tasks you should treat it like you would a physical illness. I’d like to emphasise that my experience doesn’t fall in this category but to the senior staff in my department, it was probably like asking a primary kid to learn his times tables. They may have understood the difficulties but its far from an insurmountable problem, just a learning curve to be overcome. What’s far harder to fathom is the pure impossibility of a task. For me this was impossible. Nothing was going to change that. I didn’t care about trying again. I didn’t care about graduating. I just didn’t want to step in that laboratory every again and I feared that forcing it would only jeopardize my wellbeing. Forcing out of idle is almost never the answer. It only exacerbates the feeling of failure.

I firmly believe that a far more consoling and productive reaction is to try a new avenue. One from which you can gain just the same sense of achievement. Criticising a person’sinabilities can often feel for them like they’re just digging a bigger hole for themselves. For me, I took the following summer for myself and returned with a project that played to my strengths. I don’t mean to dissuade from exploring outside your comfort zone but going in with the understanding that sometimes it just might not work out and that’s okay is very important. Realise that you can still learn and grow from such experiences. I returned to blue shores where I completed my degree with a superb final result that I will always be extremely proud of and attended my graduation ceremony that had felt light-years away only a year prior.

Could you tell me a time you felt insecure?

Insecurity is something that is always there, small and almost inconsequential in the back of my mind. I think that must be the case for almost everyone, you have to be a certain kind of confident to never compare yourself to anyone else and get that feeling you’re not-quite-as-good. I find social media can be a world that exacerbates this problem, there is always going to be someone more attractive/sportier/confident on your timeline that makes you feel lacking. For me I particularly struggle with feelings of insecurity in social situations or stressful times, it takes one lack of an invitation to feel like you’re nowhere near as popular as everyone else going, but that’s where perspective and rationalisation come into play. Yes it is a difficult and frustrating situation but if you take time to think about all the good things that are going on (which are always there, if not always big things or particularly obvious), then the feelings of self-doubt slowly ebb away.

One of the hardest things to do, but something that I’m slowly learning makes an enormous difference in everyday life, is to try and not be envious or compare yourself to other people who appear to have everything easy. I am one of the biggest over-thinkers I know, less than I used to be, but still constantly unsure of myself, and yet I think many people who meet me would be totally unable to see this aspect of my personality. I like to think that is the case for most other people too, so if you are ever feeling insecure for not being quite as good as someone in one aspect, never forget they are probably comparing themselves back against you and thinking they aren’t as good for another reason.

A time recently that I have felt insecure was just a few weeks ago when things got on top of me at university. It got to that point at the start of winter that you’re feeling run down and ill, and deadlines stack up. When I’m tired I find it so much harder to think rationally, and for one particularly challenging piece of coursework I just couldn’t work out what I was supposed to do. I felt like every single other person in my module could understand so much easier and I was in the wrong place, insecure in my intelligence. I felt like if I reached out to my friends and said I was really struggling they would judge me and dismiss me for not understanding it like they did. Reaching a point of overwhelming panic, I had to sit down with one of my friends and just admit I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. She was EXACTLY the same. We sat for about an hour just non-stop complaining about how difficult the module was and how we felt everyone else understood while we didn’t. Next we started actually tackling the questions and while it was still difficult, we made a lot more progress than I had been able to before, and had the confidence to text more friends to help us, some of them who are super bright who got it straight way, but many more others in similar situations.

When it comes to insecurity about things like this, or about your looks, or popularity etc., it is so important to bear in mind that there are so many others who feel the same, and if you reach out to a close friend a problem shared can often be a problem halved. You could spend your whole life comparing yourself to others that appear to be better-off in a whole load of different ways, and it’s so difficult not to, but the more you put yourself out there and stay active – keeping your mind off things that make you feel less-than – the more I find you can start to be grateful and positive about other unique aspects of yourself.

Could you tell me a time you felt optimistic?

Optimism is a hard emotion, in my opinion. Its not just like feeling happy or sad, its deeper than that. It’s telling yourself that you believe you can achieve something. In a lot of situations, I let other emotions push that feeling out of my mind. I’ve recently realised that tapping into that optimism can make me feel better about something that’s happening in a completely different part of my life. It gives me focus and excitement.

Optimism for me, at the moment, is directed towards my future and career. It feels great knowing that I’m doing everything possible to set myself up for success in the future. I’m not focussing on only one thing; I’m trying to set myself up with options through my studies and work experience. It may be hard work, but it gives me that belief for the things to come and distracts me from other things that may not be going so well right now.

There is always something that can get in the way of feeling optimistic, but there is always room in life to do something that can give you that feeling and its worth every minute. Giving myself time to think about what I am doing well so I can focus on feeling optimistic isn’t something that comes naturally to me, but I hope I can keep doing it in more parts of my life.

Could you tell me a time you felt connected?

I recently moved The Hague in the Netherlands from my home in London to study for a year. An experience that has turned out to be far more challenging and lonely than I ever pictured it to be.

When I’m waiting at Centraal Station for a train one of my favourite things to do is to sit on the steps next to the piano where commuters sit and play. I love watching people sitting down playing, so absorbed in what they are doing and so connected to everyone that is listening to them. I like observing the smiles it puts on people’s faces and the people just jumping up when they have finished playing and continuing on their way!

Doing this reminds me that everyone is kind of alone, but connected at the same time. I gain a lot from taking time out of my often hectic day to sit down and watch people walk to where they have to be, whilst listening to someone play the piano. I think it’s little things like this that you need to appreciate when you’re feeling lonely or anxious and this really lifts my mood on a blue day. It would be easy to sit on my phone or have both headphones in, but I feel so much more connected to people when I’m looking up and not plugged into a device. This is so important with regards to my generation. I was born in 1998 so have been exposed to technology and social media since the beginning of my teenage years. Social media can make it really difficult to get a realistic picture of life, when all you see is the idyllic visions and social personas that people present on Instagram. Something I really struggle with and that gets me down is constantly comparing my reality abroad (which can be pretty miserable at times) with the life my friends at home are having.

But, right now I feel present and content, which is something I’m really trying to feel more often; through doing yoga, running, reading more and spending time outdoors disconnected from technology. Growing up is hard and I’m still trying to figure out how to live well and be happy, but baby steps! Memo - written sitting on the steps of Den Haag Central station next to the piano!

Could you tell me about a time you felt anxious?

Ah man, all the time. 

There’s a familiar expression of mine that my friends and family recognise almost instantly – a furrowed brow and eyes growing wide in concern as my hands starts to softly poke at my face while I’m thinking. A sudden silence and drop of energy after a lot of conversation and animation, as it becomes apparent that I am clearly musing over something. It can be triggered by almost anything – I can be my happiest and relaxed self without a care in the world, and the smallest and most insignificant inconvenience can send me into a downwards spiral of anxiety. 

‘Don’t worry’ is what people say to me the most in life. But as I’ve grown older I’ve come to realise that being worried is a part of my permanent state of being.

As a child I would frequently lie awake at night worried out of mind, my heart racing and a million thoughts circling around my head. Back then it was things I’d only long to worry about now – having said something embarrassing in class, getting in trouble when I had forgotten to do my homework, going into school after an argument with a friend, and wondering where I would sit at lunch. Acne, boys, fashion, exam results. How I looked, how I acted, who I was friends with. Every time I would start at a new school, I would cry to my mum the night before as I didn’t know where I would be able to hang my coat.

As I grew older, the things I would worry about as a child seemed almost insignificant compared to the things you have to worry about as an adult. Suddenly there’s bills to be paid and monthly budgets to be planned, job interviews to attend, bosses to please and life decisions to be made. And amongst all the normal adult worries - like money, health and relationships - comes another string of worries that are specific to you and your life. 

I bit the bullet and went to the doctor about my racing heartbeat and tight chest that I would get when someone at work asked to talk to me, or the dizzying thoughts of having done something wrong if a friend replied to my text in a slightly different tone than usual. The diagnosis of anxiety was a relief, but it manifested itself into something far more dangerous as I tried to take control of it, to find a distraction. During the deepest darkest clutches of my eating disorder last year, my worried thoughts at night would not be on whether my health would deteriorate further or the people in my life I was hurting, but on whether or not the 600 calories that I had consumed that day were ‘too much.’ The irony was that when my body and mind was consumed with anorexia, the things I would have usually worried about once upon a time were the last things on my mind. So, in a sense, I had achieved what I wanted. 

But I made the decision to remove myself from the place I became sick when I realised I couldn’t heal there, and now, six months later, my mind is occupied differently. For the first time in a long time, there’s relative peace in my head. I now spend most of my time thinking about the French language, dog walking, Zumba and the absolute joy of hot Belgian fries on a Sunday evening. I find myself in a loving relationship with a wonderful guy, and there’s now another person floating about in my thoughts, and not just me. My spare time is now filled with exhibitions and cinemas to go to, parks to visit and cobbled streets to cycle over. I have the mental, and physical, capacity to travel to new countries and dance at concerts again. I’m working somewhere where all the responsibility doesn’t fall on just me, and when I go home at 5 o’clock, I truly do go home. I’m able to sit down and read a book without my thoughts rushing off somewhere, finishing it from cover to cover and giving it my full, undistracted attention. I can watch new TV shows and films with my boyfriend without thinking about what I had for dinner. When I make a mistake or something goes wrong, I’m able to view it rationally and know that these things happen, and it won’t always be bad. 

The worry is still there, of course. The familiar drop in my stomach when presented with something foreign and unusual. And it will always be there – I am an anxious person. I care too much about what people think, how my actions directly impact those around me and the decisions I make in life. But I have come to realise now that life doesn’t have to be perfect and free of anxiety for it to be a happy life. And that’s what it is – a happy life, with bits of anxiety in it, and not the other way around.

Could you tell me a time you felt motivated?

I am a lazy person. My family, friends and most people who know me will probably back me up on that. If there are things that need done, they will most likely be done at the last second or later than I had planned. This is not because I set myself too many things to do in a short amount of time, or because I’m going out and doing other things instead – I am just lazy. I’d rather sit down and do nothing than to get up and do the things I need to do.

The biggest problem with this is that I never really got motivated to do things because I was able to be lazy and get away with it. I’d be able clean my whole flat in the couple hours before a flat inspection or whip up a decent essay the night before. I was able to get good enough exam results to get into Uni on the very minimum of effort. But as time went on and assignments and exams got harder and I took on more responsibilities the little effort I put in wouldn’t take me far enough. As I got more of a handle on other things, I just started shifting the lazy. Assignments would be done well and in exchange the flat would be a mess and I would eat rubbish. I would clean the flat and eat well and I fell behind on Uni work and was less organised for work. Not because I didn’t have enough time, I am just lazy.

I used to view being motivated as a predetermined factor, a personality trait that I was born without. I’ve gone through phases of being highly motivated towards things such as going to the gym or studying but found it difficult to maintain. I realised recently when I was wallowing in laziness and not feeling motivated about anything that I was looking at it all wrong. I was looking at motivation as an on-off switch – you were either fully motivated and active or not at all. I realise now that its more like the accelerator pedal in a car, you can increase and be more motivated or ease off, take time for yourself and be a bit lazier. The reason I was struggling to stay motivated is because I felt like I had to be fully motivated all the time when that’s really not the case. I’m still trying to find the right balance between being motivated to do the things I need to do and my lazy nature but I’m getting there. Some days I’m lazier than I should be but that’s fine - motivation is a marathon, not a sprint.

Could you tell me a time you felt lost?

It’s incredibly easy to look at yourself and never be satisfied. It’s incredibly easy to reflect on what you haven’t achieved. It’s incredibly easy to become comfortable. It’s incredibly easy to suffer in silence.

It’s not easy to change who you want to be. It’s not easy to push yourself. It’s not easy to move your comfort zone. It’s not easy to admit your suffering.

Why should you settle for easy? – I asked myself this question on Boxing Day 2017, the day I admitted to myself that I wasn’t okay.

Since that day I started creating change, making more mistakes, trying to learn from them and ultimately trying to make myself feel better, make myself feel happy. I tried to tackle everything head on, I tried to tackle a few big factors in my life that didn’t make me feel happy, I struggled, eventually I broke the biggest factor down and tried to fix it one day at a time – making positive choices consistently. I had bad days, I had good days, I had great days and I had days that I don’t want to remember – but ultimately they were the days that shaped me.

I put one foot in front of the other and repeated, repeated and repeated. 

Set myself progressive goals that I never thought would be possible and then… I put one foot in front of the other and repeated, repeated and repeated.

I’m over 18 months on from when I first started and I find it hard to reflect on what I have achieved but so far: I’ve lost over 8 stone; I’ve ran a marathon; ran 4 half marathons; ran over 500 miles in 2019 (so far..); I’m due to run, run cycle and kayak the width of Scotland in a couple of months and ultimately I have begun to like the person I am becoming. I have ups and downs and no two days are the same but I am positive that my best is yet to come.

Do something today that will make you smile tomorrow.

Could you tell me a time you felt alive?

When you think about it, like really think about it, our bodies are pretty incredible. Home to everything that we need to survive; full of lots intricate workings ticking along, that we are usually blissfully unaware of (you can tell I didn’t study biology). It’s amazing and I definitely don’t appreciate it enough. To say that everyday I recognise that my body is “alive” would be a lie. Yet each and every time I step and submerge myself in the sea, I become acutely aware of all of those intricate workings; my heart beating (sometimes racing), my breath sharp and icy; my legs and muscles and every joint and connection within them awaken and I definitely feel alive. 

 Over the last few years I have really come to appreciate the incredible effects of sea swimming on both my body and head. There really is no feeling quite like it. You could have had the worst day in the world and a splash in the sea will clear everything away, even if only for a short while. Swimming in the sea doesn’t allow for me to focus on anything that has been all consuming in myhead. As the cold water moves up my body with every step, or sometimes leap that I take, I become focused only on the shock of the cold water on my skin (and sometimes the screeches of pals also taking a dip). There is no space to think about anything else and it is great. Once my head is under (which can sometimes be a challenge), my hair wet, my eyes softly stinging from the salty water and I come back up for air, I absolutely feel alive.

 Whatever day I’ve had, if a swim in the sea can be fitted in, it’s always going to be a better day.  It doesn’t need to be a long dip, sometimes it’s only three minutes before my body says, “okay I feel alive but I’d like to get out now” or on other days it could be over twenty, swirling and swimming away. Whatever the length of time the effects are just the same, you feel invigorated, refreshed, awake, alert and bloody brilliant.

 Living where I currently live has made the sea unavoidable, with beaches and swim spots in abundance and for that I am very fortunate. Wherever I head next, I will need to make sure that there is some form of open water not too far away as I know my body and head will need regular check-ins. It’s addictive and in my eyes one of the best ways to feel alive. 

 Next time you’re near the sea, just jump in. 

Could you tell me about the last time you cried?

The last time I cried was a few weeks ago when I was on a busy Easyjet flight on my way home. After a stressful few months in both my personal and academic life, I was listening to a voice message from a close friend who was being supportive and lovely - it all felt too much in that moment.

I never used to be a ‘cryer’. Not much moved me to tears.. so much so that my friends would joke about my seemingly detached and emotionless exterior. But these days, the tears hit me at unexpected and sometimes inappropriate moments.

I have struggled with episodes of anxiety and depression over the last two years. These feelings sometimes manifest themselves in uncontrollable crying.

There is nothing worse than feeling your eyes welling up and your throat catching - especially when you are in a public place surrounded by strangers. You feel embarrassed, you feel like people will look at you. Your ultimate fear is that someone will ask you what is wrong.

I have nothing against crying - I think that it can be cathartic and liberating. Often you feel better after a good cry!

But, if you feel that you are crying uncontrollably and without an obvious reason, it is probably worth checking in with yourself, and considering how your mental health is doing. This is something that I used to push to the very bottom of my internal to-do list - thinking about your state of mind is quite a difficult thing to do, as you might have to admit to yourself that something isn’t right.

But pausing from your busy life to reflect on how you feel is incredibly important and something we should all be doing more often I think.

After going through some particularly difficult periods of mental health, I know the signs to look out for in the future. When I feel that the tears are falling more often than usual and without any particular reason, I know that it’s time to take a step back and consider how I am really feeling.

Could you tell me a time you took a risk?

I’ve found that living with a big vision of the future you wish to create brings some doubt and anxiety about the details of the how, when and where of it all — And the way we’re brought up in society hasn’t allowed us to live with these creative tensions — suggesting that we always need to have control over these things — so when we don’t, we stress!

It’s nice to have things under control... it’s nice to see the full view... and I think that’s why most people stay at their ‘control towers‘ in life. Unless you sense or know there is a much deeper river of life out there waiting for you to experience, I’ll be the first to admit that it’s pretty hard to let go of the control!

But learning to live with the mystery, the unknown, the doubt — is one of the most rich and purposeful experiences Elise and I have had. 
I remember this time last year just before Elise left her job to pursue our dreams, I asked her if she was sure she wanted to leave the comfort of the job (that she loved!). She just simply looked at me and said, “we weren’t created to be comfy.” Probably the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard someone say ha! But I think that’s so real — because we don’t ever arrive at a place where this all comes easy — it’s a real journey — but I believe if you listen to the voice of encouragement deep within, and simply trust and believe that this inner voice is not your own but the voice of your designer/creator/divine encourager/God — you’ll find overwhelming peace amongst the unknowns of life — and you’ll be able to step into the fullness of the journey you were born to explore and enjoy.

You’ll be able to let go of the exhausting fight for control and find rest and joy in not knowing the full picture. 

So, if you’ve read this far, know that it’s okay to figure things out step by step. It’s a journey — and there’s no beauty without mystery.

Could you tell me a time you felt pressure?

Pressure is usually synonymous with external factors; friends, finances, relationships etc. However, the times when I have felt under the most pressure, have been where these factors aren’t really apparent. It has been in everyday life, putting pressure on myself to act in a certain way, be a certain person. 

These internal forces , were especially felt as I started at university in first year. I felt very lucky and excited to start. I had in mind exactly what I thought the university experience, my course and generally how I wanted my three years to go. Without realising it, I was putting pressure on myself to live up to these expectations. Coupled with the inevitable pressures of weekly essay deadlines, tutorials and regular tests meant that first year was a bit of a rocky one. 

Being surrounded by brilliant people was amazing but equally led me to feeling incredibly out of place, although this was well known as imposter syndrome - I didn’t know it at the time, and just thought they had made a big mistake in my admission process! This gradually led to physical manifestations of pressure. I initially overworked, just in order to not appear as out of place as I felt, before applying to a different university at the end of term 1 in the hope of moving. 

I was incredibly lucky to meet someone on my course who felt very similarly to I did. Perhaps the most surprising and perhaps comforting, thing was that I wouldn’t have expected her to feel this intense pressure to fit in and do well, as she seemed to be calm and bubbly on the outside. This really emphasised to me that many people are experiencing similar challenges, and many are hiding behind trying to appear on top of things, or laughing off doing badly – I know I was. Talking to her was helpful beyond words, it allowed me to talk to my tutors and open up about the pressure I felt. Long chats, rants and sharing tips were all conducive to a much improved second year. Pressure will always be an inevitable accompaniment to experiences you care about, however, I have gradually learnt (through talking and learning) to not let this pressure distort the way I looked at things.

Could you tell me a time you felt proud?

As a gay woman, I feel I should open this passage about pride with a nod to my fellow queers. Whatever shape and size they come in, the majority of those who identify with the LGBTQ+ community will understand, unfortunately, what it is like to feel embarrassed, ashamed, uncomfortable, or simply: not proud.

It took roughly two years for me to get from point A (it’s a phase) to point B (it’s definitely not a phase) of my sexuality. And for the most part of this time, I felt pretty disgusted in myself. 

But this confused me. What reasoning did I have to feel this way? The people I surrounded myself with were supportive and loving. Scotland, the country I was born and raised in, was leaps and bounds ahead of the rest of the world in terms of LGBTQ+ rights. I’d even spent most of my teenage years speaking up about the LGBTQ+ community and the importance of acceptance. It just never occurred to me that I was speaking up for myself. 

For the first few months, I woke up most nights in sweats. I asked myself over and over why it had to be me. And as I began to understand the weight behind spitting out a certain three words, I wanted them to disappear. But instead, I saw them everywhere. 

The words ‘I am gay’ felt like acid on my lips. 

It took me two years to say those words. Even though they danced around my head every minute of every day, I let twenty-four months pass me by without uttering them. I admit, I crept around them. I used alternative phrases like “I like girls,” “I’m not straight,” or “I’m experimenting.” But I knew what I was doing, and I knew that I was pretty much in a state of denial. The expressions I was using left room for interpretation. They were true, but they still left much up to the imagination; I wasn’t straight and I did like girls… maybe I was just curious! Maybe this way, I didn’t have to be gay.

As a straight-passing, Edinburgh-born, white, well-educated female coming out in the 21st century, I can really see why some might find my story questionable. Why on earth did I find it so difficult to come out, when nobody even cares these days?! To explain:

Because people still care.

My internalised homophobia did not develop itself. It was taught and it was learned. Sometimes it’s the small things. A stare that lasts just a moment too long; a simple assumption that I have a boyfriend and not a girl. But other times, it’s the big things. Like being taught sex education for eight years through school and barely a mention of homosexuality. As a child every book, film, TV show; filled with straight characters and straight plots. Dreaming about my future honeymoon carefully because I want to be able to hold my wife’s hand on the street. When I used to think about being gay, I felt dirty. 

But I dealt with it eventually. I am gay. And I told my friends, my family, told colleagues and strangers. I am a lesbian. Looking back, I can’t remember if the words practically jumped out of my mouth, or if they were forced. I think it was a mixture of the two.

And this is where pride comes in. All the sweeter because I pushed it away for so long and because really, it’s nice to feel proud of something that you used to hate. I am proud of being a gay woman and I have grown to love saying those words (if you couldn’t tell). I join millions of others who represent a different kind of normal and we are lucky to be able to come together in celebration of this.

But, I want to recognise that my story certainly does not encompass that of everyone. Only this month did MPS vote to legalise same sex marriage in Northern Ireland. In 2019, a Boston group plans to march in favour of straight pride. The sultan of Brunei implemented stoning to death under stricter anti-LGBT laws earlier this year and there are still a handful of countries that uphold the death penalty for homosexual activity. My nightmares are many people’s truths, and for this reason, I understand the importance of recognising my privilege and being proud of being gay. Not everyone can be. 

Could you tell me a time you felt fear?

The word fear is often associated and thought of with negative connotations. I guess in the last year the feeling of fear has hit me in many ways, admittedly negative, but also in a more positive way, a way that has made me feel scared, but determined at the same time. 

Throughout my life I have been faced with fear: fear of losing, fear of trying too hard and failing, fear of my own thoughts and ambitions and even a fear of something that may not ever happen to me. But the fear of the unknown in your own life has to be one of the most significant and for me the largest and newest emotion I have felt in the last year. Whilst entering the last year of my university experience at this stage of my life, I came across large challenges, some that I knew eventually I would get through, but many I had no idea what the impact or the outcome of such actions would be. I was aware that I had so many decisions to make in the near future, the fear of the unknown and not knowing what will happen if I choose a certain pathway of life hits you hard, not only is it constantly on your mind: as you are weighing up such choices and consequences of choosing a certain route to take, but also you know that ultimately the ownership is on you and only you for making such decisions. Throughout the year I have tried to weigh up and think and really try and engage with how and what I want my life to be like, and as a 22-year-old female that is hard. Once you reach adulthood the expectation of you being brave and fearless really is a myth, if anything, when you become an adult that is when you really start to experience consequential fear. When making the decisions I have made (and I am still yet to make more) I have decided that going with the moment and what you feel at that precise moment deters the fear that you may be feeling and simply makes you feel like it is a small decision you are making that day. The fear of the unknown will never leave, it will also never get easier as I get older and ultimately have to make even more decisions and regulate consequences. At the beginning I stated that not all moments where I have felt fear this year have been negative, in fact many things I have feared have turned out to be some of the most amazing things I have experienced this year. Fear is not to be feared; fear is to be negotiated with: for example, whatever you are scared of now, will you still be scared of that in a month, year or even two years’ time? The fear of the unknown has definitely developed me into a stronger minded individual, not only that but I have learnt that the fear of the unknown is normal, positive, natural and healthy.

Could you tell me a time you felt self love?

Self Love is a journey.

It’s impossible to talk about that journey without facing up to what came before. Self loathing.

I’m sure it’s a familiar tale to plenty of people. Tearing myself to shreds, overly critical about my abilities, about my body, about myself as a person. Imagining the worst things people could think about me and taking those to be truth. I’d try to take control of how I was feeling. To manage it in all the wrong ways. I was punishing my body by withholding things I like and need, like food and space to heal, and overindulgence in the household numbing agent of choice, alcohol. Strictly controlling my diet wasn’t making me any happier. My body got smaller but it wasn’t good enough. The workouts got tougher and became daily and were not to clear my head but to punish myself, to push my body to the brink. They didn’t help either. The booze helped. When I was drunk I didn’t give a damn about what anyone thought about me. I could stop the nonstop criticism in my head and just relax. It was wonderful. And then the morning would come and I’d be a wreck. But not from the hangover. It wasn’t the physical effects of the booze that left me crippled. It was the psychological effects. I was far more anxious than I previously had been pre-drinking. What had I said? What had I done? I’d probably made a tit of myself. People probably thought I was a terrible person because I’d have revealed that I actually am a terrible person. I’d want to hide and outwardly pretend it never happened whilst inwardly destroying myself. So I’d restrict my food, or kick my ass in a workout and punish myself to balance it all out. And it all worked out and I lived happily ever after in this healthy cycle of self loathing, numbing and more self loathing.

The one thing I was fairly sure I was good at was my job. When I was at work I was fine. The worry and bullying would mute and I’d spend my days helping other people solve their problems and helping them overcome their anxieties. Before I knew what had happened I had thrown far too much of myself into my work and I had a serious burn out. My mental health hit rock bottom and I couldn’t work. I couldn’t do much at all. I felt like a shadow of a person, vaguely human shaped but completely unable to function. The self loathing took on a whole new level and all hope escaped me. I would look at old photos of myself laughing and smiling and think ‘Why can’t I be THAT woman? She was actually pretty fun. She laughed. She has friends. She knew what she wanted in life. She was pretty cool. Why didn’t I appreciate her when now I am THIS wreck?!’ This was retrospective self love accompanied by the greatest self loathing I’d ever felt. Self loathing which convinced me that the world would be better if I wasn’t in it. It was dark. And hard. And I wanted to be the woman I used to be. I wanted to have a second chance and to appreciate her and tell her I loved her, show her the affection that she needed and deserved so that she’d never leave me again. No wonder she’d left when all she’d had from me was shit.

I made some drastic life changes, quit my job, took a considerable amount of time off and worked only on projects I was passionate about but that I could manage, promising myself I’d duck out if I started noticing those patterns of downward spiral again. Steps towards self love can be big or small. Talking to people about my breakdown and what had happened reduced my anxiety. I realised I wasn’t alone. Then things like curating my Instagram feed and removing anyone who made me feel bad or critically compare myself to.

I stopped drinking alcohol. That alone has been the single biggest act of self love, the biggest step, and one of the toughest parts of this journey. When I have a bad day all I want is a large glass of wine (or five!), evidence that to me it is a numbing agent, a way to avoid facing up to my issues and communicating how I feel. Instead I’ll have a lemonade and open up about how I’m feeling. Shock horror, it’s far more effective than deadening my emotions! Sobriety has shown me that I’m good at conversation, can make people laugh, can still tell a good story, can dance and sing and be in the moment completely stone cold sober. This woman can still be life and soul and be sober. It’s a great feeling. So is the sweet joy of waking up hangover free! I’ve been embracing my body. It’s changed since I started to allow myself to eat what I wanted. I look in the mirror and see how far I’ve come. I see the curves and wobbles and feel proud that they’re there because they show me how far I’ve come. A year ago I’d have bullied this body away.

I’m still growing, getting to a stage where I’m ready to work out again but my fear of obsessive exercise in the name of faux self love is still there. My body needs me to move but it doesn’t deserve to be punished. I’m not confident I can get back into a regular workout routine without slipping back into old habits. I know i’ll write this and send it over and then worry that it’s not good enough. I’m still learning and that’s ok. Baby steps. Self Love is a journey.

Could you tell me a time you laughed until you cried?

I was in Hamburg a couple of months ago with two friends, James and Kyle. One of the highlights of the holiday was a trip to ‘Miniatur Wunderland’, the largest miniature museum in the world! Instead of a model village it’s like a model world you can wander round. We tried to go early afternoon but due to the overwhelming popularity of tiny stuff we had to book tickets and come back later. The man in the ticket office told us there would be a wait time of 100 minutes, a perfectly normal and often used interval of time. We decided to spend our 100 minutes in the pub and returned for our miniature experience full of beer and excitement. Every five or ten minutes the lights would fade on and off, allowing us to enjoy the wunderland scenes at both day and night. After a while exploring miniature scenes from around the world, talk turned to souvenirs. After much daring and false protesting, we started competing to see who could pocket the best miniature figurine. We waited for nightfall. Things started small with James picking up a stray barrel the size of a peanut but escalated quickly. Emboldened by our early success I made off with a tiny dog, bike, car, cow, tree and sunbather. Things got interesting when James shared the exciting news that he’d managed to grab Spiderman. Unable to show each other our spoils until we’d left the museum, the big reveal was left till we sat down for a beer. Initial disappointment in Kyle’s poor haul of one guy was blown out the water when James emptied his pockets. In his anxious haste to snatch a miniature superhero he had overshot. I laughed until I cried looking at James forlornly clutching not tiny Spiderman, but just a man in an orange jumper grabbed with such force that his legs had been left behind.

Could you tell me a time you felt love?

Okay, well I was scared and anxious all throughout my pregnancy. I had all sorts of problems and scares, one after the other and spent nine months feeling a constant dread that something was wrong. I didn't know what, but I just convinced myself that something was wrong.  The emergency C-section didn't help when the baby was born and afterwards, it was almost like it had happened to someone else.  I had to stay in the hospital for a few days and I would look over in the crib and I would think, yeah that's a nice baby, but he could have been anybody's. I didn't feel like he was mine and there was certainly none of that mother/child connection which I thought would be there automatically. I certainly didn't do any doting, I remember even sitting reading a book, which I thought was a bit odd at the time. Anyway, day four was discharge day and I remember a nurse.....I think it was a nurse, or it could have been a health visitor came to collect the baby.  Because all babies have to have this heel prick test before they leave the hospital. So I just handed him over and I waited and I was sitting there waiting....I remember it being really sunny. I remember the sun coming into the room, the sun landing on me and I suddenly realised that the lady who had taken the baby didn't have a nurses uniform on. I remember thinking it was okay because maybe she was a health visitor and then the more I thought about it the more I thought maybe she wasn't either.  Maybe she was a stranger and had stolen my baby. So I got myself in a complete tizz and I was running up and down the corridor looking for this women and looking for the baby. I got myself more and more panicked, then I think I saw her walking down the corridor towards me and I ran up to her and I grabbed my baby back. My baby who was completely red in the face, screaming like a banshee and so cross because he had had his heel pricked. It's hard to explain, but something inside me shifted. I literally hated the doctor who had hurt my baby with this tiny needle in his tiny little heel and I could have actually stabbed the doctor with something a lot bigger than a needle.  I just felt so protective, this wave of protective emotion and love I suppose, just swept over me.  It's hard to explain, its almost visceral it comes from somewhere inside you, near your stomach. It's hard to describe.  I don't think a mother's love is any different from a father's love. Although, I think the love that you feel for your child is very different from that which you feel for a partner, friend or parent.  It's different, and all I can say is that it's been there since day four, it's never left and it never will.