Could you tell me a time you felt alone?

From a personal perspective, until recently Mental Health had never been something that I had ever given much thought to. I had spoken to friends about feelings that they had in an attempt to be there for them but I always found myself not properly being able to relate or understand. I’d imagine this made any advice I gave them not particularly helpful.

Then about nine months ago, two different things happened weeks apart that I’d imagine will continue to have both positive and negative effects on me for years to come. The first of these was an accident on a football tour that led to me having relatively severe concussion for a number of weeks. The result was that for quite a while I struggled to sleep and became anxious in normal social situations and particularly in busy London streets (Brixton to be precise!). As these symptoms began to fade, I joined friends for a curry followed by a night out. I have no idea if the concussion played a part (probably didn’t) but I got too drunk and tried to make my own way home. I fell asleep on the underground and had my phone and wallet stolen. By the time I came to my senses, got home and managed to call my bank thousands of pounds had been taken from various accounts. How they gained access to my phone I still don’t know, I can only presume they used my thumb to unlock it.

What followed was hours and hours of discussions with the police, action fraud and a couple of banking institutions and a betting company that the fraudsters had moved money to. I was lucky to have many supportive people around me however sadly their words meant little to me, I felt that no-one really understood what I was going through. I became increasingly paranoid to the point that I’d think people were following me home so I would take different routes to try and get them off my scent. On reflection, I am not sure why I thought any would be following me home but thinking rationally was a struggle during this period!

Trying to get the money back was a pain staking ordeal where it felt like it was me against the corporate world. This again led to problems sleeping, but worse feelings of isolation and a lack of focus when it came to everything else in my life. I recovered most of the money with help from some of those around me (shout out to those guys!) but to this day am still £800 out of pocket. The reaction when I tell people that is that it’s a lot of money and how could I give in. Trust me, I tried. Ultimately I got to the point that for the sake of my mental health I wanted to close the chapter on the story and move on.

Nine months later, the knock on effects of these two events have largely faded but I still have flashbacks that cause me pain (regarding the latter) but these are fading. However, mental health is something that I’m now very much aware of and something that I think about day to day. All in all, could I say that I’m happy these two things happened because of what I have learnt about myself as a result? No, I don’t think I could. However, there are certainly positives. One of these is that I feel more able to open up to my friends and utter the words “mental health” when speaking of my own emotions, something I wouldn’t have done before. Equally important, I feel much better placed to speak to friends about their own experiences and to try and help advise on their situation and what may help based on my own understanding. I also feel much more confident in asking friends how they are feeling under the surface when feels appropriate. Finally, I am also a big believer in Kelly Clarkson’s “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” and that these experiences will make me better equipped to deal with the future obstacles that life throws at me.

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 time?

A time I needed time was the 31st of January 2020. That day started when I jumped into an Uber at eight in the morning with my head feeling the size of a balloon, a headache that could break through mountains and my mouth as dry as Tesco own brand rich teas. 

I got to my course and did a day of marketing and sales. By the end of the day my head was spinning with information in which I was going to go home and collect into notes on my computer. 

When I got to the bus stop however, my girlfriend messaged me to let me know she was just round the corner visiting friends at a social club. I decided to join them as I hadn't seen her all day and I wanted to say hello to her friends and wind down after a busy day of learning.

I was only 15 minutes in the premises when I got the phone call. The phone call I never wanted to ever receive. A phone call I'll always remember to my dying day.

On the other end of the phone was my best friends sister, I took the call in the hallway as it was unusual of her to make a phone call at such a time. It was my best friend’s sister who informed me that my best friend had passed away that morning. 

After the phone call, my head seemed as if it had turned into cotton wool, my legs gave way and I slid down the wall and to the floor, my head in my hands with only one thought. My best friend is dead. My best friend is gone. 

A flood of tears began to stream from my eyes, I started to cry hysterically, I was in a living nightmare that I will never wake from. 

The memories started playing like a movie tape in my mind, I started to hear his voice and his laugh then my girlfriend appeared in front of me. 

She asked "What's wrong?, what's happened?" As she trys to lift me from the floor and keep me standing upright. 

I just couldn't believe it. 

A time I needed a time was after my friend died. People were trying to support me and be there for me, tried to visit me and encourage me to go outside. But no. At that time, all I needed was time. Time to get my head straight, time to grieve the boy I grew up with, time to process how hard he tried to come off the drugs but...never quite made it. Time to think about my life and what would happen if I died tomorrow? What would I leave my girlfriend and what would I leave my family?. Time to cry into pillows and on my girlfriend's shoulder, time to drink and get so drunk to realise the next morning actually...this isn't helping. Time to heal. Time to remember. Time to celebrate those who's life had gone far too soon, but time for me to realise how fragile life is. Time to be grateful for who is in my life and time to take the time to say hello.

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 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 took a step back?

Around 2 years ago, at the age of 27, on a holiday with some friends in Sète my mental health reached a melting point. Looking back, I realise now that it was mostly likely years of escaping my negative self-beliefs through various avoidance strategies that led to this event where my complications with mental health became self evident. At that moment in time, and for the weeks that followed, I experienced a complete loss of self esteem and confidence. I felt embarrassed, confused, stupid, useless and ashamed of myself. I found it impossible to concentrate from having severe brain fog and had a deep rooted un- comfort and stress around my friends. As a result, I chose to isolate myself which led to me then slipping in to a dark depression.

I remember the exact moment when I reached breaking point. I was assisting my friend making breakfast one morning. Usually what would be a simple task became an overwhelming experience. Finding it difficult to concentrate, I needed him to guide me through the process as I feared making a mistake and embarrassing myself over the most basic task. Once we had finished preparing food, I felt severely stressed from how difficult I found this everyday routine. My friend, unaware of my negative thoughts at the time, made a passing joke about me only having half a brain that morning. Unfortunately this solidified the negative thoughts I was having about myself and my worries that my insecurities would become noticed by friends was confirmed. I felt completely embarrassed and useless. As a result, I couldn’t even stay to eat the breakfast we had prepared - I sat down and started to profusely sweat in the sun. My friends conversed and I focused on trying not to embarrass myself further so I sat there in silence trying to persevere over the negative thoughts I was ruminating over. My situation did not improve and I eventually started to feel like I was going to have a panic attack so I said I needed to go for a walk. I rushed out of the house and sat by the canal worrying about what was happening to me and fearful of returning to the house. All I could do was ruminate over what had happened and catastrophize what was going to happen in the future. At this moment in time, I thought that I would never be the same again. I began to identify with these new feelings and believed that the happier less anxious me of the past was actually an imposter that had had his day and that circumstances had finally exposed the real me that would remain for the rest of my years.

At this time, I was very unfamiliar with the complexities of Anxiety and Depression. Even though I had probably been experiencing such symptoms for years I never felt like they were severe enough to warrant much attention. I was told by one friend that I could be suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) as result from traumatic life experiences. At the time, I couldn’t believe that my symptoms were solely caused from this and convinced myself that it must have stemmed from a biological failure in my body or a physical accident. Despite experiencing these symptoms in the past they had never been so crippling so I thought that they must have been worsened by some recent development. I then started my own research and became obsessed with getting to the route cause of my psychological complications. My first diagnoses was that I had an Over-Active Thyroid and I was experiencing Hyperthyroidism.

Once I returned to the UK from Sète, I became obsessed with trying to discover what was causing my condition. As a result of ruminating over my negative thoughts, my symptoms remained and I began avoiding social situations and not answering phone calls from friends. I continued to diagnose myself with all sorts of illnesses online that continued to make me feel even more hopeless about the future. I began to believe that there was no chance of improvement. My condition got so severe that I even contemplated suicide. After visiting the doctor and having various blood checks, it was clear that it wasn’t a overactive thyroid that was causing my symptoms. Through diagnosing myself online (the worst thing a hypochondriac can do in this situation), I then developed a new theory that I had experienced Brain Damage caused by a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) which had triggered my anxiety and depression. Besides various minor knocks to the head, something which is probably common for skateboarders, I’ve only ever had one major knock that resulted in a concussion. Despite having scans at the time of the accident and being given the all clear from doctors without much sign of concern, I continued to worry about this long after the injury. My worries were not necessarily unjustified as I have seen the affects of Major Brain Damage in my father who had accident when I was in University and now requires 24/7 continuous care. After revisiting the doctor with this proposal, I was told that it was unlikely that my psychological state was the result of a previous bang on the head. This scepticism from the doctor was due to the nature of my symptoms, as they quite often come and go. I was then given a prescription of Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors (SSRI’s) called Citalopram to see if this would improve my condition. I started the course of SSRI’s and simultaneously began Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) to satisfy the notion that my condition could be improved and was not irreversible.

Once I started CBT I learnt a lot more about my mental health. I was told that to improve my mental hygiene I would have to retrain my brain through various mental exercises to transform my negative thoughts cycles about myself in to more positive ones. After a few sessions with my therapist I stopped taking antidepressants and began to believe that my symptoms were not the result of Brain Damage, but were the result of a form of mild Social Anxiety Disorder (SAD) and could be resolved through therapy. My therapist reaffirmed that my hypochondria had got the better of me and through self diagnoses I had found something to explain my condition that would only allow my negative thought cycles to continue. I began to understand I was suffering from very low-self esteem that most likely resulted from negative core beliefs about myself that I had developed throughout my entire life. I began to understand that some of the traumatic events surrounding my upbringing were most likely the cause of my negative thought patterns. I could see the patterns of my thoughts that had been developing for years and the ways I would ruminate over negative thoughts and begin to identify with them. I began setting my self challenges to break my negative thought cycles. Most of the exercises I worked on came from a book by Dr Melanie Fennell called ‘Overcoming Low Self-Esteem and Overcoming Low Self-Esteem Self-Help Course’ and the website www.getselfhelp.co.uk. After about a month of starting CBT I slowly started to feel a return of my old self. My symptoms began to dissipate and I was able to carry on with things with a new sense of empowerment over my thoughts. Although there are times when my symptoms have returned, I have stopped obsessing about what is causing them and instead focus on things I can do that can make me better in those moments. Overtime I have noticed many other triggers that have an impact on my mental hygiene. I’ve seen that my symptoms sometimes worsened during;

- Periods when I am idle and don’t have much to concentrate on.

- Times when I have been travelling a lot and not sleeping properly.

- Mornings after drinking alcohol.

- Weeks when I have been eating a lot of sugar and drinking a lot of coffee.

This has led to me avoiding these triggers at times when I can feel my anxieties returning which definitely benefits my mental hygiene. I have began to accept that there is not necessarily a singular reason to explain my condition and understand the fact that I can only hypothesize what brought on my break down in Sète and that obsessing about previous injuries only allows my symptoms to persist. There are most likely various environmental and biological causes for my symptoms. Fortunately, I now have the tools to help prevent me from ruminating over them so they persist and instead I can carry on with life as normal.

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 a time you needed time?

When you’re loud, it’s hard to be quiet. I have a big personality. Always cheery, always smiley and cracking jokes. I’m a people person. A massive extrovert. I definitely love nothing more than spending time with others.

But recently I got rejected from a job that I had worked hard to have enough experience for, and one that I had wanted for a while. I’m lucky. I have a job that I love, friends around me and supportive family. But still, it has really hit me. My confidence has been knocked, I’m disappointed, embarrassed and more than ever I’m doubting myself, rethinking my abilities and what I want to do next. I currently live in a fantastic place, where there are always things going on. I live with other people, people come over, and people invite you round to spend time with other people. Usually, I love it, but recently it has meant that it has been hard to take time for myself. If you’re an introvert people expect you spend time on your own. You can take an hour, an afternoon, a day out, to spend doing whatever you need to. But if you’re not, any time that you try to take is interrupted by a barrage of texts and phone calls, knocks on the door to check that you’re ok. People think you are being rude if you don’t fancy going along to an event, for the first time since they’ve known you, if you want to go for a walk by yourself or just fancy a day watching Netflix (other streaming platforms are available) in bed. They worry, constantly ask if you’re alright and you say yes, because, despite acting out of the ordinary, you are. But when you’re loud people don’t expect you to want time to be quiet. They expect you to bounce back. To constantly remain the life and soul, to crack jokes. If you say no it sounds too dramatic for the way that you’re feeling. They try to help, to fix it, to get you out, give advice, to hang out with you, when all you really need, is a little bit of time. 

I won’t be sad forever, or probably even for very long, but I do need to be allowed to be sad and disappointed and sometimes, that’s ok. I need time to figure out what I can do differently, where I might want to go next, what steps I need to take.  

When you’re loud, being quiet can be a battle. But I think that we all need to be afforded some time to think every now and again. 

Luckily, today, I’ve been able to take a minute for myself for the first time in a long time. And it’s given me time to write this blog, which I’ve been meaning to do for a while. 

If you ask me again next week, I’ll write a post about feeling happy - about how funny I am (or think I am) and how much I love a good boogie at a party, because that is me, most of the time.

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 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.